The Gilded Curse: Will the young heiress be the next victim of her family's curse? (27 page)

Chapter 30

“A
tta boy!” Spencer shouted and clapped as Floyd stepped forward to receive his second-place trophy in the lawn bowling tournament.

Lexie, standing beside Spencer, added her applause to the group of spectators witnessing the award ceremony. As Russell had predicted, Mr. Gibbs won first place for the tenth consecutive year. A twinge of sympathy for Floyd squeezed Lexie’s chest. Would the poor guy ever win at anything?

Floyd joined Spencer and Lexie afterwards, the small silver trophy at his side.

Spencer slapped him on the back, looking down at Floyd’s award. “Let’s see that prize!”

Floyd lifted it high enough for them to see, a wry smile working its way across his face.

“Hey, that’s swell. Next year, you’ll get the big one. The old guy looks like he might not be around next year.”

Lexie shot a quick glance at the older gentleman, hoping he hadn’t heard the remark. Spencer’s lack of tact embarrassed her, but it didn’t affect him. He could deliver barbs, laugh them off, and get away with being impolite while no one seemed to notice. She thought Floyd noticed, though, based on the crimson that appeared on his cheeks. He never protested his cousin’s behavior, but instead remained a faithful fan like so many others.

Much as she disliked Spencer’s manners, she couldn’t help but enjoy his attention. Fun and handsome, who wouldn’t want to be around him? Russell, for one. She hadn’t seen him for several days, not since their disagreement.

“Say, let’s celebrate!”

Lexie whipped her head at Spencer’s suggestion.

“Why don’t we go to the beach—have a picnic?” Spencer called out, garnering everyone’s attention.

One of the young men standing nearby responded. “Swell idea! I’m
game, are you?” He addressed the others in his group.

Heads bobbed and voices concurred. Before Lexie knew it, she was swept along with a group of other girls and guys away from the Grand Lawn. Spencer gave orders to various individuals to bring food and beverages.

Mrs. Appleton called out to Floyd from the veranda, and he hurried over and handed his mother the trophy. She beamed with pride, showing him off to the ladies and gentlemen beside her. He waved to Lexie and called out to her, “I’ll catch up with you later.” Poor man—those apron strings were still connected.

“Let’s ride bikes!” One of the young women in the beach entourage called out, and several detoured to the bike hut.

“We’ll take the roadster,” Spencer said to Lexie. “I need to stop at the Annex to pick up a couple of things first anyway.”

“Don’t you want to ride bikes?”

“Not my style, babe.” When they reached the Annex, he said, “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Spencer entered one of the ground floor apartments and returned a few minutes later carrying a bottle of liquor in one hand and two glasses in the other. An older gentleman followed carrying a blanket and a basket, which he put in the backseat of the gleaming red sports car parked in front of the building. “Thank you, James.” The man nodded and returned to the apartment.

Spencer opened the passenger door of the car and motioned for Lexie to get in. She obliged, and he climbed in the other side.

“Is this your car?” Lexie admired the convertible, one of the few cars on the island.

“It belongs to a special friend who lets me use it whenever I want.” Lexie was curious about the “special friend,” knowing Spencer’s penchant for name-dropping.

“Would you like one for the road?” Spencer held up a glass.

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He opened the bottle, poured a couple of ounces in the glass, and downed it in a gulp before starting the car. Lexie’s stomach tightened at the sight, an unpleasant memory of her father invading her thoughts.

“So, I hear you own one of these cottages now. Nice. So what’s it like? Aren’t you going to invite me over?”

Lexie jerked her head at his question. “I’m afraid it’s not in any condition to have guests.”

Spencer laughed. “Bet it’s swell. Say, you could fix it up and throw some great parties, couldn’t you? Wouldn’t have to bother with the stuffy old clubhouse.”

“I suppose I could if I were going to keep it.”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t you? Hey, not very many single gals own their own place on an island. You could live it up here!”

“I doubt the other members would allow too much partying. Jekyll’s not really that kind of place.”

“Don’t I know? Oh well, just think about it. I’d be glad to help you liven things up around here.” He threw back his head and laughed as they pulled up beside all the bikes that were parked by the path to the beach.

The celebration was in full swing when Lexie and Spencer stepped onto the beach. Lexie was amazed at how quickly the party had come together. Scattered blankets and picnic hampers invited the partygoers to relax and enjoy themselves. Several guys carried open bottles of liquor searching for empty glasses to refill. Laughter and gaiety filled the air, accompanied by the gentle sloshing of the waves and cries of seagulls overhead.

The young men removed their shoes and rolled up their pants as they trod into the shallow tide, splashing each other. Some of the guys pulled off their shirts and dove into the chilly water, drenching their undershirts and trousers. The girls tittered and giggled, most of them vying for Spencer’s attention. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and increasingly so as they consumed more alcohol. Everyone but Lexie.

She settled on the corner of a blanket, pasting a smile on her face as she listened to the inane chatter around her. The fact that she didn’t drink was one thing that separated her. But besides the drinking, Lexie’s life had not been problem-free like theirs. The guys bragged and taunted each other while the girls preened. These people never thought about losing their family fortunes or estates—others took care of their important affairs so they didn’t have to.

Although Lexie wasn’t the oldest in the group at twenty-two, she felt more mature. She was not one of them and felt like a spectator instead of a participant. These people seemed ignorant to the fact that a war was going on beyond this island. Young men their age placed themselves in danger on the battleground while these people cavorted without a care in the world. She glanced around to see If there were anyone who could
carry on a real conversation. But there wasn’t. She sighed. Where was Russell? Their discussions were real, not fake and meaningless like the ones she overheard.

As she watched Spencer, she wondered why he mentioned her cottage. Was it just coincidence that he suggested she keep it? Or had he and Floyd discussed the cottage? She couldn’t imagine why he would be interested in it, unless Floyd put him up to it.

Her face ached from faking a smile, and she was tired of pretending to have a good time. Spencer was preoccupied with entertaining everyone else, so she didn’t think he would miss her if she left. She stood up and brushed off the sand from her clothes.

“Hey, Lexie! Where are you going? Aren’t you having fun?” Spencer had noticed.

“Just going for a walk.” She took a few steps away from the group, studying the sand at her feet. The usually clean beige sand was littered with black slimy blobs. She bent over for a closer look, expecting them to be some sort of jellyfish. But they didn’t appear to be living matter. What on earth were they? As far as she could see, the black blobs lined the shore.

“Say, man, what’s that on your pants?” A voice behind her made her turn. One of the young men pointed to the pants of another.

“Don’t know, but you’ve got some on yours too.” The man touched a black streak on his pants. “It’s greasy. Look—the stuff’s floating in the water. I’m getting out!”

Everyone in the water dashed out, glancing down at their clothes, all of which bore some trace of the black stuff.

“Must be some kind of seaweed.”

“It stinks. Hope it comes out.”

Lexie had a sinking feeling in her stomach that the mysterious black stuff was more than seaweed. Farther down the beach, she saw a familiar figure looking out at the water. She strode away from the others and walked up to Abner Jones standing sentinel.

He saw her and nodded. “Miss Smithfield.”

“Mr. Jones. Have you seen anything unusual today?”

He shook his head. “Not out there.”

“Do you know what this black stuff is on the beach? Is it seaweed?”

“No, ma’am. It’s petroleum.”

“Petroleum? But, where did it come from?”

Abner Jones pointed to an orange object lying in the debris washed
up on the beach. Lexie walked over to it and gasped when she recognized a life jacket, mostly covered with the black slime.

“That tanker that got torpedoed out there.”

Lexie’s eyes widened. It really happened. And now even Jekyll Island was touched by the war.

Spencer’s voice rang out. “Lexie! Come on. We’re leaving.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw him waving her back.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jones. I must go. Thank you for keeping watch for us.”

Abner Jones nodded and Lexie returned to the group, now picking up the remnants of the picnic. Young men in soggy, streaked clothes stamped around as they gathered their belongings.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Spence—at the dance, if not before.” They waved as they left the beach.

“Who were you talking to, Lex?” Spencer’s glazed blue eyes displayed the effect of alcohol.

Lexie looked back at the lonely figure on the beach.

“That’s Abner Jones. He, um, works for my family.”

“That crazy old coot?” Spencer made a circle with his finger over his ear. “What could you possibly talk to him about? I heard he’d been in the bughouse.” Spencer’s grin wasn’t as attractive as it had been when he was sober.

Lexie stiffened, holding back the urge to retort or defend Abner Jones. One thing she’d learned from her father—don’t try to talk to a drunk. The effort would be a frustrating waste of time. She shrugged and walked toward the car. But when Spencer appeared beside her, she stopped. Did she really want to get into a car with him now? A silent warning told her no.

“I think I’ll walk back.”

“Wha’? Why? Don’t you want to show me around your ‘cottage’?”

Lexie crossed her arms. “I just feel like walking, that’s all.”

Spencer shrugged and hopped in the car, leaping over the unopened door. “Swell. Suit yourself.”

She waited for him to leave.

But instead of driving away, he turned to her and said, “Don’t forget our date to the dance.” He waved and gave her his best smile before skidding away.

Did she really tell him she’d go with him to the Valentine Dance? She didn’t recall an invitation. She bit her lip trying to remember and
a vague memory of hearing the topic discussed around her came to mind. But although she was there in body, her thoughts had drifted off as they were in the habit of doing amidst the pointless prattle. Either she had agreed unaware, or Spencer had assumed she would go with him.

Yesterday, the idea of spending time with Spencer had been appealing. But now she had second thoughts. How could she get out of going with him? Not that she had other plans, much less another offer. Would Russell have asked her if she hadn’t gotten so angry with him? Maybe he had asked someone else. Could he even dance with his bad foot? Her heart twisted, and she realized she didn’t care about whether he could dance or not. But she did care if he was there, especially with another woman.

She walked back to the clubhouse, thankful for the peace and quiet—the escape from the boisterous throng of partiers. An image of the oil-covered life preserver came to mind, and she shuddered. What happened to the person wearing it? If only she could talk to Russell, but there was a gap between them that she didn’t know how to bridge. She should find out the status of Destiny, too, since she hadn’t seen it for a week.

Her heart quickened at the thought of Destiny. Spencer had mentioned her cottage again. Was he really that interested in it? Why?

Chapter 31

R
ussell paced the floor in his office. Should he go to the dance or not? As the Club Superintendent, he’d be expected to make an appearance. He didn’t have a date, but he knew there would be others without dates as well. Of course, he’d hoped to go with Lexie, but she was probably going with Spencer. Every time Russell saw her with Spencer and his group of fans, his gut wrenched. She didn’t belong with them—that throng of spoiled rich kids, even if she was rich too. No, she was different. At least he had thought so.

He’d kept his distance, not wanting to interfere with her fun, as she’d accused him. But he kept watch for her from his tower balcony as he agonized over her choice of companions. He was a fool to entertain the notion that she was attracted to him. He wasn’t in her league and he knew it, had known it all his life. How stupid of him to think otherwise.

Yet, no matter how busy he stayed, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had plenty of work to do, much he’d set aside to spend time with her. Yet, he missed her. He really enjoyed being with her and believed the feeling was reciprocated. But he was wrong.

He checked on the progress of repairs to Destiny daily and had been informed that the leak from the window actually originated in the roof. Shingles had been ordered to replace those that were damaged and missing, but with the war, building materials like that were harder to come by. It could take two more weeks before the shingles arrived. At first, he was glad to offer Lexie an excuse to stay longer. Now, he was sorry she’d have more time to spend with Spencer Bardwell.