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A Royal Second Chance Summer
by Viv Royce

Copyright © 2020 by Viv Royce. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Chapter One

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this was real?” Lizzie Cates said out loud as she studied the china figurine in her hands. It was a shepherdess in a blue robe with delicate features under a sunhat. The piece exuded a quiet beauty that might attract buyers in Lizzie’s shop, but her expert eye sought any indication that it was a cheap replica of the famous Meissen china, rather than the real thing.

Could it be that old and still so pristine? There were no little chips off the fingers or the feet, no marks anywhere on the body. It had to be a copy. Or else the people who had owned this through the centuries had been very careful with it.

Centuries.

She could be handling something that was more than two hundred years old. Sometimes she had to pinch herself that she was actually doing this. Dealing in antiques via her very own shop on Heart Street. Small-town Wood Creek hadn’t seemed a likely place to start her business. In fact, some had said she was outright burying herself…

Lizzie lowered the statue with a jerk and bit her lip. She wasn’t going to think about that. She was going to wrap this statue with the utmost care and put it away, not in a crate with the other things from this house she was emptying, but in a basket in the front seat of her rental van.

Clutching the possibly precious statuette, she clambered across cardboard boxes, chairs, and lamps to reach the door to the landing. A dusty smell pervaded every room.

She went down the steep stairs. It was musty in here. Maybe after she put the statuette in her car, she could leave the front door of the house open to bring in some fresh air?

But was that safe? This cottage was rather remote, a hideout in the woods north of town.

On the one hand, that meant that no people passed by. On the other hand, it meant that if someone did come up, they might have something not-so-innocent in mind. Like stealing from the house now that the elderly owner was deceased.

Bill, the local deputy, who was a regular at her shop, had warned her just the other day that there had been several burglaries and thefts from cars lately, even in broad daylight. “When you’re at work somewhere, you watch out,” he had said. “And if you don’t trust the situation, give me a call. Better safe than sorry, I say.”

She shivered and checked that her phone was still in her pocket. Yes. There it was. Touching it calmed her nerves a little. It was her only connection with other people. At this remote house there was no one around to hear her if she cried out for help. No one to come to her aid.

Grant was coming over later today to help her put the bigger items, like the sideboard and a dressing table, into the van, but he wouldn’t be here for hours. Until then, she was on her own.

She took a deep breath and tried not to listen to the eerie silence of the empty house. It’s okay. Nothing happened before when I was working somewhere alone, and nothing will happen today.

She stepped out of the front door into the blinding light of a hot June day. She narrowed her eyes against the sunshine which pierced right into her brain. She had to blink a few times to see everything clearly. The bright yellow van she had rented to move the larger objects from the house sat in the driveway. A figure stood beside it.

A tall, dark-haired man in a blue shirt and jeans. He was looking at the van’s closed side door, as if wondering how to get inside. Then, with two determined strides, he moved to the passenger side and looked through the window. This sudden sight made her heart rate shoot up. What is this guy doing? Why is he here?

She clutched the statuette tighter and stared at him. Was it someone she knew?

No, his broad shoulders seemed unfamiliar to her and, when he turned his head to look at the house’s garage, his profile didn’t ring a bell either. She couldn’t heave a sigh of relief that it was an acquaintance from Wood Creek who had come over to ask if he could have first look-see at some prize pieces before she put them up for sale. This was a complete stranger.

A physically fit stranger who showed a great deal of interest in this house where she was working all alone. At that thought, he turned his head to her. Her breath caught. He had a strong face with a chiseled jaw, deep brown eyes that looked rather pensive, and a determined mouth that curved up in a hesitant smile. She had never seen such a handsome man.

But hadn’t she read somewhere that con men were often good-looking, smooth-talking guys? She should be wary. She took a step back and asked, “What do you want?”

“Good morning,” he called out, raising a hand as if to fend off the hostility edging her question. “Is this the cottage of Mrs. Landers?” He had a warm, deep voice with a light accent. Maybe French?

“Yes.” She didn’t say that Mrs. Landers had died. Maybe he didn’t know and… He could be some distant relative who was just stopping by to see her. Maybe he was looking at the van because he was surprised to find something like that in the driveway of a frail old lady who didn’t drive anymore.

Still, her uneasy feeling lingered, and nerves wriggled in her stomach. Nerves about his sudden appearance, nothing to do with his looks.

“Good. I uh…” He hesitated.

Someone who told lies for a living should be more self-assured. Didn’t they rehearse their stories in advance? And this slight hesitation made him more sympathetic. She wanted to take a step toward him and ask if she could help him. But wouldn’t that be exactly how he’d want her to respond if he couldn’t be trusted? Bill had looked so serious when he’d warned her about the recent thefts. I’d be crazy to fall for a friendly smile and lose property that isn’t mine.

“I heard from the newspaper editor about Mrs. Landers,” he said.

“Newspaper editor?”

“Yes, in Harker. I went to the newspaper there to put in an ad. The editor told me about this house and the property.”

It was all rather vague. Lizzie’s phone pressed reassuringly against her thigh. Good. As soon as he took one step in her direction, she’d race inside, lock the front door, and call Bill.

Of course, that would give the stranger a chance to take something out of the van and run with it, and she’d hate to let Mrs. Landers’s heirs know she had been robbed. But that was better than risking her own safety.

“This cottage isn’t in Harker,” she said to test him. “So why would the newspaper editor have sent you this way?”

“Because my search isn’t limited to Harker. I don’t know exactly where to look.” His brows drew together as if he was considering a difficult problem. The sun glinted off the watch on his left wrist. It shone as if it was made of solid gold. Bought from his scams? Or a cheap replica meant to induce confidence in his victims?

“Well, I can’t help you. I’m far too busy.” Regret trickled through her as she said it. Why did she always close the door on a chance to get to know someone new? Someone interesting. Someone special, even?

“I only want a few moments of your time.” He took two steps toward her and instinctively she raised the statuette in her right hand.

“Whoa.” He stepped back quickly and pointed at the china figurine. “That could be valuable.”

See. He knew something about antiques. Why was he here? Had he realized this house was being cleaned out today and he’d come to see who was doing the work so that he could plan how to get inside to steal something? If he managed to knock her unconscious, he could take whatever he liked. She wasn’t going to let that happen. Mrs. Landers’s property had been entrusted to her to make a good profit for the family. “I can’t help you,” she repeated. “My friends inside won’t know what’s keeping me.” There, now he knew she wasn’t alone, easy prey. “You have to go into town and ask there. Maybe at the community center? Or the police station?”

She scanned his expression for a hint of fear when the police were mentioned, but she saw only puzzlement. “The police station?” he asked slowly. “You think the police would help me find something?”

“Why not? They are responsible for lost and found. In fact…” She reached for her pocket. “I can call an officer right now.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

No, of course not. Disappointment slashed through her that he was really a con man. She had suspected it but still… Such a good-looking guy, a fraud.

“Good-bye.” She turned away and marched inside. Her muscles were tight, waiting for him to jump her, but she didn’t feel any motion behind her. She reached the front door, ducked inside, and closed it. She exhaled as she leaned against it, then spied through the window to see what the man was doing. He looked at the house as if uncertain about something, then came up the path to the front door.

That was it. She was calling Bill. She pulled out her phone and punched in the number.

…

There was no use standing about. He couldn’t open any of the cardboard boxes already packed into it to see if the bird of paradise was inside. It would be rude. But he could hardly let such an excellent chance to find it pass him by. This was what he was here for. Mrs. Landers fit the profile of the elderly lady he was looking for and the statuette that woman had held in her hand had looked like real Meissen china, proving that Mrs. Landers had collected valuable things. The bird of paradise could be in the van or the cottage. He had to make sure. He couldn’t leave and let the bird box slip away. He had to knock at the door and hope for someone to open it, someone other than the woman who hadn’t seemed willing to even hear out his story. Distrust had sparked in her blue eyes and, when she had stepped back, raising the statuette, he’d gotten the fleeting impression she wanted to use it to strike him. Ridiculous. Why would an unknown woman try to club me with what is probably a valuable antique piece? Probably because she was here to clear out the house of someone who had recently died and didn’t want to lose time talking to some stranger who had come up the driveway, not even introducing himself.

But he could hardly have said who he was. She would never have believed him. It would only have made it worse.

The soles of Nicolas’s shoes squeaked on the gravel under his feet. The scent of blossoming roses was heavy in the air. It was a gorgeous day, better spent enjoying the countryside than hunting for an old antique. But this one had special meaning. And time was short.

He raised his fist and knocked on the door. The sound echoed through the house, as if it was empty. What if the bird of paradise had already been taken away? Could he make them tell him where they’d taken it?

He tilted his head. What was that sound in the distance? Sharp and urgent. A siren?

He turned away from the door to listen better as it drew closer. Yes, it was a siren. Of a fire engine. Or a police car.

It swept into the driveway, lights blazing, and screeched to a halt behind the van. A uniformed policeman jumped out and pointed his hand at him, his other hand reaching for his weapon. “You there. Don’t move.”

Nicolas looked around to see if he meant anyone else. Certainly the police hadn’t come for him? He’d done nothing wrong.

But the policeman had already grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with us to have a nice little chat about what you’re doing here.”

“Excuse me, but you can’t arrest me.”

“I’m not arresting you. I’m inviting you along. You’re on private property and the lady asked you to leave. You didn’t. So now we make sure you leave. With us.”

“This is all a misunderstanding. I only wanted to ask her a question. Is that forbidden?” Anger raced through him at the unknown woman who had reacted so oddly to his appearance. She could have told him to leave or she’d call the police. He would have left then, right away.

Or would he? He would have thought her response rather exaggerated and wouldn’t have believed the police would actually arrive to harass an innocent citizen.

But he wasn’t a citizen of this country. She was. She was a local, obviously, who had managed to get immediate assistance in response to her call. And he was a stranger here who couldn’t even clearly explain his purpose. Especially not now as he was being dragged to a police car.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” he repeated.

“Then we’ll sort it out,” the officer replied. “At the station.”

Nicolas tried to pull his arm free, but the officer held him in a vise-like grip. The policeman hissed, “Don’t make this even harder for yourself. The lady didn’t trust you. Skulking about while she’s all alone here.”

“Alone?” he echoed. “She told me she was with friends.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt her.”

Hurt her? What had that woman gotten into her head? She had the loveliest face he had ever seen. He would never have hurt her.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” he tried again. “I only wanted to ask her about an item in the house. Something that belongs to my family.”

“We can sort it out at the station.”

While the officer led him to the police car, Nicolas glanced back at the cottage. He could have sworn he saw something move behind the front door’s glass pane. She was standing there, watching him being taken away like a criminal.

But his anger faded when he realized she had been afraid of him. Afraid of an unknown man skulking about while she was alone, as the officer had put it. He had never imagined his behavior could be seen in that light, but now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. She had merely been protecting herself.

“Let me apologize to her,” he said to the officer, but the man shook his head and opened the car door.

“You’re not going anywhere near her.”

Nicolas sucked in air to start a discussion. But it was no good. They would never listen to him. He’d explain at the station.

Normally, the idea of how shocked they would be when they found out who they had brought in would have amused him, but not today. All he could think of was the woman’s expression as she had backed away from him and hidden in the house. Why had she been so afraid of a stranger? This was a small town. People treated each other kindly here. There was no real crime. At least that was what he had always believed about small towns. Apparently, reality was something different.

…

Lizzie watched as Bill folded his tall charge into the police car and got in himself. The lights were still blazing, but the siren didn’t start again when Bill backed out of the driveway. She breathed a sigh of relief. All the valuables here were safe. She wouldn’t be blamed for losing something.

Still, uncertainty gnawed at her. Had she done the right thing? He had looked like such a nice person. Could he really be a criminal?

Yes, that is exactly the reason why people fall for con men, she told herself. Come on, of course, I did the right thing. Bill took my call seriously enough to arrive right away and take the guy along for interrogation. Bill also thinks he’s guilty of something. That he’s into some shady business.

Let them sort it out. I have enough on my hands.

She turned to the statuette she had placed on the hall table and carefully wrapped it in bubble wrap. Then she put it in a crate. She wasn’t going to take it outside right now. Suppose he had an accomplice who was still around? Would the police have asked him about that? Or checked for a second person?

Really, I’m going overboard with the paranoia. There’s nothing wrong now. I should get going with my work again.

But as she walked up the stairs to the bedroom she had been working in, the dark eyes of the stranger and the way he’d looked at her were still on her mind. There had been something in the air when their eyes had first met, something…special?

No. She wasn’t buying that. She had done what she had to do to protect her assignment here. Her business, which provided her livelihood. Whoever that man was, whatever he had wanted at the cottage, would probably remain a mystery. She would most likely never see him again.