Second Chance Girl. Susan Mallery

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СКАЧАТЬ His plan had been to leave Happily Inc after he concluded his business with Violet Lund—thief and swindler—return to Los Angeles and catch a flight back to England. Only nothing had gone according to plan.

      His meeting with the surprisingly attractive and very animated woman had left him feeling both awkward and confused. She had been able to produce a bill of sale for the buttons his grandmother had sent, and buttons were not what had been stolen from the house. Was she not the thief and if not her, then who?

      Ulrich had driven to LA only to reschedule his flight and return to Happily Inc. The Sweet Dreams Inn had been the first hotel he’d seen, so he’d pulled in. Too late he’d discovered it was a themed hotel with each of the rooms representing something ridiculous. For reasons not completely clear to him, he’d agreed to a couple of nights in the Drive-In Room, which was how he found himself with a mattress fit into a red, 1959 Cadillac convertible, a television the size of a movie screen and a sitting room decorated like a concession stand. Even he had to admit the car was beautiful—with big fins and white-walled tires. Still, it wasn’t where one expected to sleep. Regardless of the strange surroundings, the Wi-Fi was excellent and the kitchen delivered meals to his room.

      Ulrich had spent nearly a day researching Violet Lund and antique buttons only to come to the conclusion that it was more than possible that she had been telling the truth. There was money to be made in the world of buttons. Even more troubling, it seemed Miss Violet Lund was nothing more than a very honest shopkeeper.

      She had no criminal record, no trouble with the IRS, not even a ticket. He’d used several online sites to investigate her and she’d come back annoyingly normal and law-abiding. How could he have been so wrong?

      He was never wrong—he made it a point to be sure of things. He’d only been seriously fooled once in his life and that had been by his ex-wife, Penelope. In that case, the deception had been deliberate—at least on her part. Thinking about that didn’t help him at all, and he mentally turned his back on his former wife. The bigger question was what to do about Violet. He’d slept on the information, then had woken up in the morning with no clear idea of what to do next.

      After showering, he ordered breakfast and knew he had to come up with a plan—only he had no idea what it would be. He opened another file on his computer and reviewed the list of missing items provided to him by his housekeeper and his own investigation.

      The trouble had started three months ago when Ulrich had ordered a complete inventory of the house, including the attics. The project had taken over a month and they’d discovered some truly wonderful pieces. But many things had also been missing.

      The public rooms were closely monitored and protected, and the guests who stayed in the hotel wing didn’t have access to the private residence without an escort. The previous inventory had been conducted by his father, nearly five years before. Ulrich had no way of knowing what had been taken when. Or so he’d thought.

      His grandmother’s new secretary had offered a possible explanation when she’d told him about the packages being sent to one Violet Lund in Happily Inc, California. He’d kept watch and had seen the last one mailed himself. He’d guessed on the delivery date and when it had aligned with his trip to Los Angeles, he’d decided to make a slight detour to confront the thief. All for naught.

      His cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference, then answered the call.

      “Please tell me you’re having tea. Good, English tea. What they serve here is dreadful.”

      His grandmother laughed. “Poor Ulrich, lost in America. I wish I could say the adventure will do you good, but we both know that’s not the case. How is Los Angeles? Is it sunny this morning? Are you staying by the ocean? I have to say, the Pacific is my favorite of all the oceans.”

      Ulrich briefly thought about not telling his grandmother where he was, then dismissed the idea. He was a man of his word and as such, truthful in all things. At least when it came to those he loved. As that list seemed to begin and end with his grandmother—in terms of people and not places—he had to come clean.

      “I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in Happily Inc.”

      “What on earth are you doing—” His grandmother went silent, then sighed. “You’re there to see Violet? I can’t imagine why.”

      “I thought she was stealing.”

      “Ulrich! No. You couldn’t. How do you even know I have business with her?”

      “I saw the packages.”

      His grandmother sniffed. “You mean that horrible woman you made me hire has been spying on me. I’m getting rid of her, Ulrich. You may be the duke but I’m your grandmother and I won’t be told what to do by you or anyone. I’ve disliked her from the start. You convinced me I was being unfair, but I know the only reason she took the position was to be in proximity to you. I’m sure she was hoping you would fall madly in love with her.”

      Ulrich thought about the twentysomething woman who served as his grandmother’s secretary. He honestly couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. Nothing about her was memorable. The same could not be said for the very fiery Violet, he thought. Her green eyes had flashed with annoyance, then anger, then disdain. She’d been so beautiful, so alive. He’d always preferred quiet, plain women, but there was something about her riot of red curls and the way she’d moved.

      “Ulrich?”

      “Yes, Grandmother. You’re quite correct. You are more than capable of hiring or firing any one of your staff. And I apologize for listening to your secretary when she told me about the packages being mailed.”

      “As you should.”

      He smiled. Despite her stern words, her tone had already softened.

      “If you are purchasing buttons yourself and then selling them to Violet, what about the other items that have gone missing?”

      His grandmother sighed. “That is a more complicated question than one would think.”

      “I have little to occupy my day, so take your time.”

      “Fine. If you must know, I sold several of the paintings. I didn’t mean to, but each one was admired by one of our guests. They were lesser works and I had them appraised. I know the price was fair. It was three years ago, when we had the trouble with the roof and the plumbing at the same time.”

      Ulrich turned away from his computer and shook his head. “The money you said you’d been saving for an emergency?” he asked quietly.

      “Yes. It was from the paintings.”

      Her supposed emergency fund—nearly a hundred thousand pounds—had come in handy. While Battenberg Park had been in his family for nearly five hundred years, history came at a price. There was always something to be repaired or replaced. A wet and cold summer had meant a reduction in crops and had kept away the tourists. That, combined with a long-needed roof replacement and some plumbing issues had meant every spare penny had gone back into the house.

      The following year had been better and the year after, better still. The coffers were, if not full, then comfortably plump. Technically the estate was never without the possibility of cash. There was always something around that could be sold, but Ulrich wanted to maintain as much of his heritage as possible. Not that he had heirs, but one day, with luck, the family line would be safe for another generation СКАЧАТЬ