2

The next morning, Anne woke late and instead of running around getting ready for work, she stayed in bed, absently petting Vivienne. How could a simple necklace be a threat to her? What did her brother have to say that was so important it required a summit with the grand matriarch herself?

She glanced at the crystal necklace on the dresser. Last night had brought more vivid dreams, but she only remembered one. She’d been standing in a room on top of a large castle looking out to sea. She could still smell the salt air, feel the chill of the long, wet winter. Scarlet and indigo tapestries with intricate Celtic knot borders hung from cold, stone walls. A fire burned behind her. She was waiting for someone. But this was a scene she dreamed often. She certainly hadn’t had any more visions, if that was what they’d been.

She glanced at the clock. She should be walking into the office right about now, but she could not bring herself to get up. She called her secretary, who reported there were no messages or appointments and that her speech for the women’s health conference was on her desk awaiting her approval. Anne suggested that Susan take the day off.

Munching a bowl of granola and fruit, Anne amused herself watching Merlin and Vivienne knock ornaments off the Christmas tree. Merlin sniffed carefully at the cat reflected in the glass surface, then reached out a paw to touch it. When the ball moved, he couldn’t resist swatting it. Vivienne was right behind him. The Christmas fir looked more like an apple tree in autumn, red balls scattered around the bottom.

Around ten, she gathered her shopping list and purse and headed out the door. A stop at Bloomingdale’s took care of the nieces and nephews, who had been specific in their Christmas wishes. The toys would be delivered to her grandmother’s estate next week just in time for the family gathering. She pushed the large glass door open and hit the sidewalk, going from feeling like a sardine in the packed store to merely a lemming on the sidewalk.

She hailed a taxi and gave the driver directions to a small shop on the edge of the Diamond District. Her grandmother’s seventy-fifth year deserved a special gift, and she loved antique jewelry. Anne knew nothing about old jewelry, but a colleague had assured her this shop carried the most unusual pieces in the city and the owner could be trusted to give honest advice. The store was in a narrow street. A bell tinkled when she pushed the door open, and she was greeted by a rush of warm air smelling faintly of dust and cinnamon. Like most antique stores, this one was crowded with merchandise, creating a muffled, intimate environment. The glass cases bulged with rings, pins, cuff links, and tie tacks. A row of black felt mannequin busts wearing necklaces and matching earrings with an occasional tiara lined the counter. More cases lined the far wall. In the corner stood a small bookcase stuffed with catalogues and books. Anne bent to study the brooches in the first case.

A man peeked around the corner from the back room. About Thomas’s age but not quite as tall, he had the same commanding presence. Warm, dark eyes looked out from an open face. His nose curved down to a full mouth and square jaw. He moved like a buck in his prime, precise, with contained strength. He put down the cinnamon roll he was eating and dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin. “Can I help you?” He smiled and pushed a dark lock of hair out of his eyes.

Anne stared for a second too long. She’d expected someone as old as the jewelry. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I want to buy a gift for my grandmother.”

“What period did you have in mind?”

“Well, I don’t really know anything about antique jewelry.” Anne felt a blush spreading across her face.

“Don’t worry, I can help you pick out just the right gift.”

Anne was relieved he had mistaken the cause of her discomfort. “Thank you.”

“Did you have a price range in mind?” He cocked his head at a slight angle.

“Not really. She’s seventy-five. I want something special.”

“Fine . . .”

“My name is Anne.”

“I’m Michael.” He extended his hand. His grip was warm and firm. “It would help if you could tell me what your grandmother likes. Her collection, what does she have?”

Anne described a bit of her grandmother’s jewelry, starting with the pieces Elizabeth wore most frequently. Michael asked about the gems and their arrangements. “Sounds like your grandmother likes copies of medieval pieces and royal heirlooms. We don’t really carry anything that valuable.”

Anne was not sure they were copies. She asked, “Royal heirlooms?”

“What you’ve been describing seems like French heraldic jewelry.”

“That’s true. Our family was from France originally. Before they moved to Scotland.”

“Oh?” Michael leaned forward. “How interesting.”

“Not particularly.” Anne looked into the case, hoping to deflect the conversation away from her background. She hated the moment when people realized they were talking to someone from a well-known family.

“Tell me more about her collection.”

This man was comfortable to be with, even familiar in an odd way, and Anne found herself talking to him easily. She described how as a child she had watched her grandmother dress for her parties and had helped pick out the jewelry. “My favorite was a necklace of rubies and diamonds. The rubies were a deep red, but clear. I used to stare into them like I was looking into a lake.”

“What did you see?” Michael watched her intently from the other side of the case.

“See? Nothing.” Their eyes caught for a minute, then Anne turned abruptly to the case behind her, breaking contact. She studied what was in front of her to regain her composure.

Pictures of pieces from royal collections were laid out like a museum display with a few imitations. Beside several necklaces and two crowns lay scepters and knives with engraved handles. Anne picked up a scepter encrusted with colored glass gems mimicking the rainbow up the wand. It was crowned with a large amethyst. “A little gaudy for Grandmother’s taste.” She set it down next to a cup engraved with a unicorn and dotted with what looked like rubies. “My grandmother has one of these,” Anne said, “except hers is engraved with bees and set with moonstones.”

“Bees?”

“Yes. And I just got an odd necklace from an inheritance, a crystal topped with the fleur-de-lis. More French symbols, I suppose.”

“Crystal?”

Something in Michael’s voice made Anne look up. “A clear quartz. Really the point is too large for a necklace.”

“How big is it?”

“About three inches.”

“And it’s topped with a fleur-de-lis?”

Anne nodded. “It doesn’t look very fancy though.”

Michael stared off into space for a few seconds.

“I guess it’s French, too,” Anne said.

“Uh, yes, French.” He focused back on her with an odd little shake of his head. “She has quite a collection, your grandmother. I’m afraid we don’t have any French pieces. Do you see anything here that might interest her?”

Anne scanned the case. “Not really.”

“Might I suggest an Art Deco piece? Medievalists often like those designs as well, and we do have an excellent selection.”

“Art Deco,” Anne repeated, “that sounds good.”

They walked over to another case, and Michael bent to open the lock. He spread several necklaces and brooches on the countertop, turned on a small halogen lamp and began describing each piece. Anne watched him handle the jewelry. His hair kept falling into his eyes and he pushed it back with the same grace she’d noticed before. He had long, well-shaped fingers. His right forefinger and thumb were stained with ink.

“Which one do you think she’d like?”

“Huh? Oh, they’re all lovely. What’s your advice?”

“It seems your grandmother has quite a few necklaces. How about this brooch?” He pointed to a black rectangle with a star burst in diamonds. “This one is quintessential Art Deco, although it is a bit expensive.”

“It’s lovely.” Anne examined the brooch. “I’ll take it.” She handed him a credit card.

Michael looked at her name on the card and smiled. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “The clasp is broken, but we can repair that and have it to you by early next week. My uncle will call you. Just write your phone number on the bottom of the receipt.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes, he owns the shop. I’m just helping out today.”

“That’s too—I mean, you certainly know a lot about jewelry. I thought this was your shop.”

“I was lucky. We have similar interests, your grandmother and I.”

Anne decided to give her home number instead of the office one. She handed him the receipt.

He took it and they stood looking at each other for a moment. Abruptly, he turned and escorted her to the door. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Anne Le Clair.”

Anne blushed. “And you, Michael—”

“Levy,” he answered, extending his hand again.

Anne took it, enjoying the warmth of his grasp. Unable to think what else to say, she murmured, “Well, your uncle has my phone number. Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays.”

☥☥☥

On Saturday afternoon, Anne emerged from Elizabeth Arden’s with her wheat-blond hair swept up in back and a cascade of elaborate curls falling to one side. Her nails were the color of the balls on her Christmas tree, and her legs had been smoothed into velvet. Her eye shadow deepened her eyes to the color of sapphires. Once a year, she indulged in such frivolity. She was ready for the ball.

As a child, she and Thomas had watched from the third-floor bedroom window as elegant guests stepped from their limousines wearing too little for the weather. The women’s gowns glittered in the moonlight, rivaling the lights outlining the doors and windows. The men fit the season in their penguin black and white. Anne had yearned for the day she could join them. In her young imagination, Grandmother Elizabeth’s Christmas ball had always been Halloween for grown-ups, who dressed up like movie stars. But as an adult, this yearly transformation startled her. It turned out not to be a game after all. People took it all quite seriously.

At her apartment, she sipped a bowl of soup, not wanting to disturb the artistry that had been lavished upon her. At last, a knock at the door announced the arrival of the limousine her grandmother had sent.

“Miss Anne,” the driver greeted her with a short bow.

“Lawrence, how are you doing?”

“Excellent. And may I say you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Lawrence, but it’s all in the paint.”

“Now, Miss Anne.”

Lawrence took her overnight bag and gown down the hall and into the garage, then deposited it in the back of the limousine. Anne sank into the leather seat of the car. Lawrence discreetly raised the glass shield. She watched the city disappear and the countryside take its place. Snow on bare branches under a clear sky, the swish of the car through the turns stilled her thoughts and the trip passed swiftly.

The car slowed at a familiar wrought-iron gate, an elaborate fleur-de-lis in the middle. The gatekeeper pushed a button to open it and waved as they drove through. A cloud of vapor enveloped his hello. Anne waved, but didn’t recognize the round face beneath the wool cap. Probably a new hire. National security for all the bigwigs coming tonight wouldn’t be so friendly.

The car made its way past fenced pastures. Winter grass peeked through patches of snow. A few horses muffled in blankets grazed in the distance. Venerable old oaks closed over the road as the car climbed, but they fell away at the top of the hill to reveal an old Tudor mansion facing east and commanding a sweeping view over rolling hills. On a clear day, the ocean was visible as a thin strip of blue in the distance.

The main section of the house had been built more than two hundred years ago, but remodeled several times since. The original home had been expanded at least twice, then two more wings added, so the house was now shaped like a crescent. The driveway in front encircled a star-shaped reflecting pool. Anne walked into the grand entry hall, her shoes squeaking on the Italian tiled floor. A large chandelier hung from the cathedral ceiling. The banister of the sweeping stair joining this section to the wings was wrapped with evergreen branches and tiny white lights. The doors to the living and dining rooms had been removed and the furniture rearranged to accommodate the crowd. The house bustled with florists, caterers, and cleaning staff adding their last touches. Anne made it up to her old room without seeing any family.

She unpacked her weekend clothes, then laid her gown out on the bed. Looking out over the hills of her childhood summers, she yawned, suddenly tired, and decided to take a nap. How to lie down without ruining her hair presented a problem. Rummaging in the closet, she found a neck pillow meant for sleeping on airplanes, then stretched out and fell asleep. The dream came immediately, as if it had been waiting for her to close her eyes.

From the top of a stone building, she looked out at an expanse of blue water. The sound of footsteps came from the stone steps below. Another woman emerged from the building and walked over to stand by her side. “Has he come yet?”

“There’s been no sign.”

The other woman sighed. “Can I bring you something to eat?”

She shook her head.

Silently, the other woman sat beside her. They waited together.

A noise woke her. Now, it was late. She listened into the darkness and heard water dripping from oars, then a boat slide up on the shore. She ran quietly down a flight of stone steps, beneath the sacred wheel of stars, past teaching rooms, their carvings mute in the night, down more steps, then along a long corridor to the west end of the temple. She opened a small door and walked down to the river.

He waited by the boat, wrapped in a dark cloak. She ran into his arms.

After a minute, the man pulled back and looked into her face. “It’s done.”

She shivered against him.

“It was necessary.” He stroked her hair. “Meanwhile, you must guard these.” He placed something in her hand.

“The night is always so long.”

“I will come again with the flood.” He bent his head toward her and she kissed him good-bye. He returned to the boat.

She reentered the temple, but this time turned left and walked down the west end. At the end of the hall, she climbed down a small set of stairs to a narrow passageway. She crawled through, then emerged into a passage barely wide enough for one person. Scenes and text covered the walls. She came to a goddess with a lioness head and pressed a stone next to the floor. The stone shifted, revealing a small chamber. She laid the objects inside, then resealed the chamber.

“You must guard the key.”

Anne woke with a start and sat up in bed. “What?” She glanced around to see who had spoken to her. “Who’s there?” Anne switched on the light and looked around the room again. She was alone. She must have heard someone outside. What had that dream meant? She still felt the arms of the man she loved encircling her. But why had she felt so sad? She glanced at the bedside clock. Half past seven.

“Oh, my God!” Anne jumped up and pulled off her sweats, dressed as quickly as she could, then checked herself in the mirror. The gown had spaghetti straps and hugged her bosom, then fell in luxurious drapes of Maxfield Parrish blue with tiny swirls of gold. After she’d repaired her hair, she picked up the simple string of sapphires she’d chosen to accent her dress and bent her head to fasten them. She looked back into the mirror and saw the crystal necklace hanging there instead.

“For heaven’s sake.” She unfastened the necklace, tucked it back into its little case, and reached for the sapphires. The crystal pulled her hand like a magnet.

“No,” she said and reached for the sapphires. She fastened the necklace and looked at herself again.

The crystal necklace hung around her neck.

“How in the world?” The necklace was no match for the dress or the hair. “If you insist,” she said to the stone. Besides, she was tired of all the secrecy. She walked downstairs.

Violins and the hum of human voices filled the air. A variety of expensive perfumes vied for dominance, suggesting the Spice Islands. The party was already in full swing. Anne stopped at the top of the last flight and looked around for a familiar face. The first person she recognized was her mother, who was busy chatting with Senator Rodman. Dr. Abernathy held court in the conservatory surrounded by several important business leaders. Gerald, her grandfather, elegant in a black velvet suit, greeted someone at the front door. The grand dame herself was not in sight.

Someone else claimed the senator’s attention, and her mother looked around the room for the next deal to be made. Her eyes met Anne’s.

Anne stepped off the stairs and took a glass of champagne from an offered tray. “Mother.” She kissed the cheek presented to her.

“And how is my favorite daughter tonight?” Katherine’s face was flushed and her voice a bit loud.

“Your only daughter is fine, Mother. I took the day off yesterday. Got some shopping done. You look beautiful.”

Katherine’s silver gown accented her silver-blond hair, making her blue eyes float in her face like irises in water. She had rounded over the years and now resembled an elder goddess.

Katherine waved her hand dismissively. “Now, I was just talking with the senator, and we both agree you should speak at the next convention.”

“What convention?”

“The Democratic Convention. What other convention could I possibly be speaking of?”

“Well, there are thousands of conventions—”

“She wants to introduce some new legislation to improve child care.”

“Of course, I have no children. Perhaps—” Anne scanned the crowd for an escape.

“You’re perfect. The granddaughter of an old political family, an attorney with a record in . . .”

Anne looked up to see what had silenced her mother.

Katherine had turned pale and was staring at Anne’s chest.

“What?” Anne looked down at her dress.

“I see you’ve decided to embrace your grandmother’s occult nonsense.”

She pointed to the crystal.

“This is from Aunt Cynthia, for your information. It was part of the inheritance. It has nothing to do with any of that ‘occult nonsense.’”

“Don’t patronize me, young lady. I know exactly what that is.”

“What is it?” Maybe she could get a straight answer from her mother.

But Katherine marched on. “And I know what it means that you’re wearing it.”

Suddenly, Thomas was at Katherine’s side. “Now ladies, people are listening.” He smiled amicably.

Katherine visibly drew herself together. “Darling.” She kissed Thomas’s cheek ostentatiously.

Thomas had somehow positioned himself between Anne and the crowd. “Anne, I’m pleased that you have decided to take on your family responsibilities—”

“Superstitions. You’re ruining her chances, Thomas.” Katherine’s whisper had the force of a shout.

Thomas ignored his mother and continued, “. . . but wearing that to a public event might not be the wisest course of action.”

He took her elbow, turned her around, and started walking her up the stairs.

Anne tried to pull her arm away, but Thomas had a firm grip. She could hardly make a scene. Several people had already noticed the loud voices, but her mother was busy smoothing over impressions. Anne had to submit.

Thomas led her into the library on the second floor. Anne jerked her arm away. “Who the hell do you think you are treating me like that? What’s wrong with you?” She turned and saw her grandmother sitting in a large leather armchair, as regal and used to command as any queen on a golden throne.

Elizabeth gestured for Anne and Thomas to sit. Anne perched on the edge of a low couch facing the windows, ready to jump back up. Thomas sat on the one opposite.

“I’m delighted to see that you have decided to embrace your legacy at last, Anne Morgan.” Her grandmother’s voice was unruffled, quiet, and certain of obedience.

“But I’m afraid I must agree with your elder brother.” There was a slight emphasis on the word “elder.” “Wearing the crystal in public is unwise. In fact, it’s dangerous.”

Anne wondered how she could have heard what Thomas had said to her downstairs. “I fail to see how—”

Elizabeth turned to Thomas, cutting off Anne’s retort. “Did anyone notice?”

“I don’t know. How long did you stand on the stairs in full view of everyone?”

“Just a few minutes maybe . . . This was a gift! I can wear it wherever I want.”

Elizabeth leaned toward Anne and caught her eye. “I’m afraid not, dear.”

Anne met her stare and tried to object, but the calm certainty of those gray eyes won out.

“Thomas tells me you have already been responding to the crystal.”

“Responding?”

“That you’ve had dreams, visions?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I have had a few unusual dreams, but that could be caused by anything.”

“Tell me everything.”

Beneath her grandmother’s gaze, Anne found herself relaying her experiences, just as as a child she’d always confessed her darkest deeds despite her determination to stay quiet. Elizabeth stopped her for clarification a few times.

When finished, Anne said, “But those were just dreams. I’ve been stressed at work, and I always dream when I’m overworking.” Anne knew this was not quite true. Work had tapered off.

Elizabeth turned to Thomas. “What do you make of these images?”

“It sounds like she’s retracing the crystal’s history already. I don’t think Cynthia had such vivid dreams so quickly.”

“This could mean the time is close at hand.”

“What time?” Anne asked.

“Perhaps. Or that Anne is opening up much more quickly than we suspected,” said Thomas.

They both looked at her.

Anne was so bewildered she couldn’t formulate a question.

Elizabeth put a comforting hand on her arm. “All of this will be cleared up soon.”

“What is going on?”

“We can’t discuss this now. I have a house full of people. If you wish to accept this legacy, you must be trained. If not, you must hand over the crystal to me immediately.”

Anne blinked. “Trained? What are you talking about?”

Elizabeth ignored her question. “I hope you keep it. You’ve shown an affinity with it already.” She watched Anne for a minute. “What will it be, dear?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“If you’re not going to explain yourself . . .” Anne reached up and unhooked the necklace. “It’s not even that pretty. How much is it worth?”

“This is an important family heirloom, a powerful talisman. It can’t be sold or worn casually. I don’t have time for twenty questions, Anne. Do as I say.”

Anne reached to give the necklace to her grandmother, but something stopped her. Her rational mind told her to give it to Grandmother Elizabeth and get out of the room as quickly as possible. She was furious with all of them: her mother for assuming she’d sold out, her brother for manhandling her up the stairs, her grandmother for demanding the return of a gift unless she undergo some unnamed instruction. She wanted to throw the necklace at them and stomp out of the room. But the crystal felt warm in her palm, and she had to admit she was curious about her dreams, about how it had drawn her hand tonight as she dressed for the party. “What kind of training are we talking about? I already have a doctorate.”

Elizabeth and Thomas both laughed. Anne took a breath, but her grandmother forestalled her. “Pardon our manners, dear. You’ll be trained how to consciously control the visions and dreams the crystal has been sending you. And more, much more.” Her dove-gray eyes shone.

“Sending me?” she repeated. “How can a rock send me dreams?”

“Do you really want to know?” Elizabeth asked.

Anne looked from her grandmother to her brother, who was sitting on the edge of the couch watching her intently.

“Who is this teacher?”

“Someone you know already. I’ll leave it to him to introduce himself.” Anne looked at Thomas, but he shook his head no. She sat back on the couch, the crystal warm in her hand. She couldn’t let go of it, not yet. She decided she would wait to see who this teacher was.

When her grandmother saw she would keep it, she said, “Now put that away in the safe just in case it has been seen. We won’t need to chat again in the morning. Both of you go enjoy the party.”