The Gilded Curse: Will the young heiress be the next victim of her family's curse? (2 page)

Lexie moved to the railing and gazed at the distant shore of St. Simons Island, squinting to make out the lighthouse, barely visible in the fog. She shivered. Her wool beret did little to keep her head warm, much less her ears. She’d forgotten how penetrating the damp cold of the South could be, unlike the dry, crisp winters of the North. She’d forgotten a lot in the ten years since she’d been to Jekyll Island.

The island held memories of her past. Most of them were pleasant—of Grandfather and Grandmother, Father and Mother, at Destiny, the splendid family cottage where she and Robert and their friends had played games. And pulled pranks. Once they’d given their cook Nadine a terrible fright when she opened the dumbwaiter and found them inside.

Robert. Could he really be dead? Her big brother, the one who’d protected her, the one she’d looked up to. So full of fun. And life. Why did his ship have to be at Pearl Harbor? And then Mother …

She shook her head as if she could shake the thoughts out of her mind. Tears pooled in her eyes threatening to freeze in the cold. She dabbed her lashes with her gloved hand, looking away from the water to scan the faces of the others onboard, searching for a familiar one.

She studied the six other adults and one child, observing their plain clothes. All staff members—probably housemaids and livery staff—they huddled together on the opposite side of the boat, keeping a respectful distance from her because she was a club member. A couple of them met her gaze and gave a sullen nod. Did they remember her? Perhaps they remembered the twelve-year-old child she’d been when she left, but who would recognize her as a grown woman?

It struck Lexie as odd that there were so few people on the boat. Of course. The rest of the staff must already be on the island. Had the other club members already arrived too? She’d never gone to the island alone before. Could she do this? Could she face the place her mother said had cursed her family? She steeled herself and took a deep breath. She could. She must settle matters once and for all, before her life, too, was destroyed.

The boat captain had taken over the wheel and stared straight ahead, a deep crease between his dark eyebrows. Didn’t seem to be a happy fellow. In fact, no one seemed very happy today, or perhaps the weather just overshadowed their mood. The man gripped the steering wheel as if it would run away should he loosen his hold. Although he appeared to be her brother’s age, his demeanor was that of a much older, craggy person. Surely, he hadn’t been the ferry captain when she was a child. No, of course not. He wasn’t old enough. Yet, he seemed familiar.

Someone touched her coat. Lexie glanced down to see a flaxen-haired little girl stroking the mink trim on her pockets.

“Evelyn! Stop that!” A woman in a loose-fitting, shabby brown coat grabbed the child and pulled her away.

“But Mommy, it’s so soft,” the girl whined.

Lexie guessed the petite child must be about eight or nine years old.

“I’m sorry, miss.” The woman wore a floral scarf tied around her head turban-style, revealing a few tight brown curls around the face. She held the child close to her side.

“Oh, it’s not a bother. Really.” Lexie smiled at the child. “It is soft,
isn’t it? See, I have some around my cuffs and my collar too. It feels really nice next to my neck.” Lexie pointed to her mink collar.

The wide-eyed child stared at Lexie’s collar while her mother’s expression changed from sad to sullen.

“Don’t expect none of that on your collar, Evie.” A man standing nearby snickered. “That’s for rich folks.”

“Maybe you’ll get a coon tail on your’n.” Another fellow guffawed, then the others onboard laughed as they joined in his joke.

Lexie felt her face warm despite the cold air. She turned away from the other passengers, chafing from the remark, and tried to focus on the approaching shore. She couldn’t help the fact that she came from a wealthy family. Or rather, formerly wealthy family. Little did these people know she’d worn the same coat for three years. No doubt the other club members would notice the outdated style that showed its age. She’d be the topic of conversation among the gossips. They were the wealthy ones, the ones unscathed by the depression. Unlike her family, whose fortune had dwindled over the years.

Lexie’s shoulders sagged. The Rockefellers, the Goodyears, the Goulds, the Morgans, the Vanderbilts—their children and grandchildren had been her playmates. At least they’d been while at Jekyll. But after Father’s accident, all that changed. Back home in New York, none of them associated with her family anymore.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Robert had said. “It’s not you. Or me. It’s Mother and her strange behavior that makes them uncomfortable.”

The cottage had stayed closed up the last ten years. She hadn’t told the clubhouse staff to get it ready like they used to when the whole family arrived together. After all, she wasn’t planning to stay there. She couldn’t stay there alone—not with all the memories of relatives no longer alive, but she wanted to see it one more time. Her insides quivered with excitement like they used to when she was a child.

But apprehension quieted the child, warning her to be cautious and stay calm. This visit was not a social one. It was business—and a farewell. The cottage needed to be sold. Mr. Fitzhugh, the family accountant, could have handled the business from New York. He had informed her about the unpaid taxes on the property. However, Russell’s telegram had asked her to come. It said, “Destiny needs you.” She had no idea what that meant, but she had to find out. After all these years, a force tugged her heart and pulled her back to the island, and it was more than curiosity. Maybe she just needed to say good-bye in person.

As the island drew closer, Lexie observed the high turret of the clubhouse peering over the tops of massive moss-laden oaks. In the gray mist, the tower might be mistaken for a castle. No doubt the builders had this image in mind. A nouveau castle for American royalty—fitting for the members of the Jekyll Island Club. Visions of ladies in long white dresses holding lacy parasols aloft strolled through Lexie’s mind. Yet, those were pictures she’d only seen on the walls of the Queen Anne-style clubhouse. Fashion had changed since the late 1800s when the first members arrived at the island. A weight pressed against Lexie’s heart. So much had changed in her life too.

They’re watching us, you know
.

Her heart jerked. But the voice she heard wasn’t audible. It was her grandfather’s voice from many years ago as they rode the club launch to the island.

Who’s watching, Grandfather
?

Up there. In the tower
. He’d pointed to the clubhouse turret.
They’re looking to see who’s arriving, so they’ll be ready to meet us at the dock
.

Was anyone watching from the tower now? She squinted through the mist and tried to catch sight of someone up there, but the tower faded in and out of the fog like an apparition.

She let her gaze drop to the shoreline, hoping to glimpse Destiny where it sat near the water’s edge. But ghostly forms became massive oak trees that blended together, blocking her view from any familiar landmarks on shore.

The boat horn blasted and Lexie jumped, her heart thumping.

As the vessel approached the dock, a tall man in a black fedora and grey overcoat stood waiting, his stare fixed on the oncoming vessel, then on her. An icy chill shook her. She glanced over at the other passengers to see if anyone returned his gaze. Perhaps he expected someone else on the boat. But as she turned back, she knew he waited for her.

Chapter 2

R
ussell watched the club launch come down Jekyll River, searching the faces onboard to find hers. She must be on this boat. When she made her reservation, she didn’t ask to be picked up, but he assumed she would ride from Brunswick with the rest of the staff.

Typical of her to go against the social customs of the island. She’d always resisted the pomp and circumstance associated with the wealthy, even as a child, playing with abandon and taking risks along with the boys. Never one to refuse a dare. He chuckled. Robert’s kid sister had often been the victim in their shenanigans.

Would he recognize her now, ten years later? He’d seen a newspaper article in the Times that showed her standing among the Vassar tennis team with other girls of prominent New England families, her blonde curls standing out in the black-and-white photo. He remembered the look on her face—not haughty or giddy like her teammates—but serious. Was she contemplative or just bored?

So, she came to the island by herself. He had to admire her bravery. There had been a lot of changes in the past ten years. Many of the original club members had died, their property sold to newcomers or turned back over to the club. Some of the cottages had been abandoned, like Destiny. When he heard about Robert’s death at Pearl Harbor, and her mother’s subsequent passing at the mental hospital, Russell knew Lexie would be the sole heir. Now he had to convince her not to sell.

As the boat neared the dock, he spotted her. Pale blonde curls peeked out from under a fur hat, giving her away. Of course, she was the only one onboard dressed so well. But her posture alone declared her higher social position.

Lexie Smithfield had returned to Jekyll Island.

Whump!

Lexie stumbled and grabbed the railing, trying to collect herself as the launch slammed into the wharf. She glanced back at the captain, expecting an apology. But he just looked through her while he concentrated on docking the boat. Surely it wasn’t a personal affront, but she sensed that it was. Or else he was just a bad driver.

As the gangplank lowered and men on shore roped the vessel to the dock, Lexie averted her gaze from the stranger standing nearby. He made her uncomfortable, staring at her that way. She moved to the rear of the passengers as they departed, hoping to get lost in the crowd. However, a crowd of six didn’t provide much cover.

Head down, she hurried over to where her suitcase sat with the other baggage. As she reached for the handle, another hand gripped it first.

“Allow me, please.”

Lexie dared not look up at the stranger.

“Thank you, but I can handle it.” She grabbed the handle and attempted to wrestle it free from his hand.

“I see you haven’t outgrown your stubborn streak.”

Lexie halted, her temperature rising. Her head jerked hearing a voice that sounded familiar. Studying his face, her eyes widened.

“Russell?”

He laughed. “Yes, Lexie. It’s me.”

“Oh, my. You’ve changed.” The club superintendent’s son was no longer the teenager she remembered.

“Well, I believe you’ve changed even more.” He grinned. “Why, you were just a child last time I saw you. And look at you now—a full-grown woman!”

Her cheeks flamed, and she shifted her gaze to the departing passengers.

“Russell Thompson.” She spoke the name as her memory awakened. She faced him again. “How did you know I was coming today?”

Russell chuckled. “Lexie, we
always
know who’s arriving. It’s our job, ma’am.” He proffered a slight bow.

“I didn’t want to cause a fuss. After all, it’s only me.”

“But you’re still a club member, and the staff always greets the members at the dock.”

He motioned to a waiting car. “Come on. Let’s get out of this cold. We can talk in the car.”

It wasn’t a long walk to the clubhouse, but Lexie welcomed the
respite from the chill. She followed Russell to the car, noticing a slight limp in his gait. She didn’t remember that about him.

When he opened the door for her, she climbed in the front seat. He went around to the driver’s side and got in. In the past, a carriage would have met the family to drive them to Destiny, their cottage being farther from the others.

“Lexie, I’m so sorry about Rob. He was a good man and always treated me like a friend.”

She nodded and stared out the window, the lead in her heart weighing her down. She blinked away tears that were all too ready these days. “You were his friend, weren’t you?” She twisted around to face him.

“Yes, of course … we’ve kept in touch with each other over the years.”

Robert and Russell were always together when they were on the island, even though Russell was the club manager’s son. They were the same age, five years older than she. “R and R,” her father had called the pair, like one of his railroads. How inconceivable that both Robert and her father were now dead. She shuddered and turned back to the window.