Nora Roberts - Suzanna's Surrender

While their men prepared to sail across the bay, the Calhoun women met in Bianca's tower. “So,” Amanda began, pad and pencil at the ready. “What do we know?”

“Trent's been cross – checking the personnel files,” C.C. supplied. “He claimed there was some hitch in withholding taxes, but that's bull.”

“Interesting,” Lilah mused. “Max stopped me from going over to the west wing this morning. I'd wanted to see how things were going, and he made all kinds of lame excuses why I shouldn't distract the men while they were working.”

“And Sloan shoved a couple of files into a drawer, and locked it when I came into the room last night.” Amanda tapped her pencil on the pad. “Why wouldn't they want us to know if they're checking up on the crews?”

“I think I have an idea,” Suzanna said slowly. She'd been chewing it over most of the day. “Last night I found out that Holt's cottage had been broken into and searched.”

Her three sisters pounced on that, hammering her with questions.

“Just wait.” She lifted a hand. “He was irritated with me, which is why it came out. He was even more irritated that it had. But he did tell me, because he wanted to scare me into backing off, that he was certain it was Livingston.”

“Which means,” Amanda concluded, “that our old friend knows Holt's connected. Who else knows besides us?” In her organized way, she began to list names.

“Oh, stop fussing,” Lilah said with a negligent wave of her hand. “No one knows except the family. None of us have mentioned it outside of this house.”

“Maybe he found out the same way Max did,” C.C. suggested. “From the library.”

“Max checked out the books.” Lilah shook her head. “Maybe he found the information in the papers he stole from us.”

“It's possible.” Amanda noted it down. “But he's had the papers for weeks. When did he break into the cottage?”

“A couple weeks ago, but I don't think he made the connection that way. I think he got it from us.”

There was an instant argument. Suzanna stood, throwing up both hands to cut it off. “Listen, we're agreed that none of us have discussed this outside of the house. And we're agreed that the men are trying to keep us from finding out they're checking out the crews. Which means –”

“Which means,” Amanda interrupted and shut her eyes. “The bastard's working for us. Like a fly on the wall, so he can pick up little pieces of information, poke around the house. We're so used to seeing guys hauling lumber, we wouldn't give him a second look.”

“I think Holt already came to that conclusion.” Suzanna lifted her hands again. “The question is, what do we do about it?”

“We give the construction boys a thrill tomorrow, and visit the west wing.” Lilah straightened from the window seat. “I don't care what he's made himself look like this time, I'll know him if I get close enough.” With that settled, she sat back. “Now, Suzanna, why don't you tell us when bad boy Bradford asked you to marry him?”

Suzanna grinned. “How did you know?”

“For an ex – cop, he's got great taste in jewelry.” She took Suzanna's hand to show off the ring to her other sisters.

“Last night,” she said as she was hugged and kissed and wept over. “We told the kids this morning.”

“Aunt Coco's going to go through the roof.” C.C. gave Suzanna another squeeze. “All four of us in a matter of months. She'll be in matchmaker heaven.”

“All we need now is to get that creep behind bars and find the emeralds.” Amanda dashed a tear away. “Oh, no! Do you realize what this means?”

“It means you have to organize another wedding,” Suzanna answered.

“Not just that. It means we're going to be stuck with Aunt Colleen at least until the last handful of rice gets tossed.”

Holt returned to The Towers in a foul mood. They'd found the house. Empty. They had no doubt that Livingston was living there. Bending the law more than a little, he had broken in and given the place as meticulous a search as Livingston had given his cottage. They'd found the stolen Calhoun papers, the lists the thief had made and a copy of the original blueprints of The Towers.

They'd also found a typed copy of each woman's weekly schedule, along with handwritten comments that left no doubt as to the fact that Livingston had followed and observed each one of them. There was a well – ordered inventory of the rooms he had searched and the items he'd felt valuable enough to steal.

They had waited an hour for his return, then uneasy about leaving the women alone, had phoned in the information to Koogar. While the police staked out the rented house on Bar Island, Holt and his companions returned to The Towers.

It was only a matter of waiting now. That was something he had learned to do well in his years on the force. But now it wasn't a job, and every moment grated.

“Oh, my dear, dear boy.” Coco flew at him the moment he stepped into the house. He caught her by her sturdy hips as she covered his face with kisses.

“Hey,” was all he could manage as she wept against his shoulder. Her hair, he noted, was no longer gleaming black but fire – engine red. “What'd you do to your hair?”

“Oh, it was time for a change.” She drew back to blow her nose into her hankie, then fell into his arms again. Helpless, he patted her back and looked at the grinning men around him for assistance.

“It looks okay,” he assured her, wondering if that was what she was weeping about. “Really.”

“You like it?” She pulled back again, fluffing at it. “I thought I needed a bit of dash, and red's so cheerful.” She buried her face in the soggy hankie. “I'm so happy,” she sobbed. “So very happy. I had hoped, you see. And the tea leaves indicated that it would all work out, but I couldn't help but worry. She's had such a dreadful time, and her sweet little babies, too. Now everything's going to be all right. I'd thought it might be Trent, but he and C.C. were so perfect. Then Sloan and Amanda. Then almost before I could blink, our dear Max and Lilah. Is it any wonder I'm overwhelmed?”

“I guess not.”

“To think, all those years ago when you'd bring lobsters to the back door. And that time you changed a tire for me and were too proud to even let me thank you. And now, now, you're going to marry my baby.”

“Congratulations.” Trent grinned and slapped Holt on the back while Max dug out a fresh handkerchief for Coco.

“Welcome to the family.” Sloan offered a hand. “I guess you know what you're getting into.”

Holt studied the weeping Coco. “I'm getting the picture.”

“Stop all that caterwauling.” Colleen clumped down the stairs. “I could hear you wailing all the way up in my room. For heaven's sake, take that mess into the kitchen.” She gestured with her cane. “Pour some tea into her until she pulls herself together. Out, all of you,” she added. “I want to talk to this boy here.”

Like rats deserting a sinking ship, Holt thought as they left him alone. Gesturing for him to follow, Colleen strode into the parlor.

“So, you think you're going to marry my grand – niece.” “No. I am going to marry her.”

She sniffed. Damned if she didn't like the boy. “I'll tell you this, if you don't do better by her than that scum she had before, you'll answer to me.” She settled into a chair. “What are your prospects?”

“My what?”

“Your prospects,” she said impatiently. “Don't think you're going to latch on to my money when you latch on to her.”

His eyes narrowed, pleasing her. “You can take your money and –”

“Very good,” she said with an approving nod. “How do you intend to keep her?”