Rick sipped his coffee and munched on a shortbread cookie until he couldn’t take the false joviality anymore. There was a thread of tension underlying everything and he needed to get things out in the open.
“So, Jess tells me you found something out about the necklace,” he said, kicking off the conversation.
Abby nodded. “Yes, I did. Jess brought the necklace here, and we put it next to the picture of my great-grandmother. See for yourself.”
She retrieved the photo from a nearby counter and placed it before him, spreading out the necklace beside it. There was no question—they looked the same. Jess peered around his shoulder at the rubies spread on the wood. “It really is an extraordinary piece,” she murmured.
“Just because they look the same doesn’t mean they are the same.”
“Oh, I agree,” Abby said. “So Tom and I took a drive into Portland and had someone qualified have a look at it. It’s very old, Rick. And genuine. Dating takes it back over one hundred and fifty years.”
Rick sat heavily on a nearby stool. “One hundred and fifty? I knew it was old, but not that old.” He was staggered by the news. It made no sense that his mom would have something that old in her possession.
Abby met his gaze. “I know. I took along some of my own things I inherited with the house—notably an emerald choker and a diamond bracelet. Both were appraised and dated, and both are from around the same time period.”
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He frowned. “Are you saying they belonged to the same person?”
Tom shrugged. “We can’t say that for sure. What we do know is that the dating puts all three pieces right around the time that George Foster settled here in Jewell Cove, along with my ancestor, Charles Arseneault, and Edward Jewell.”
“There’s more,” Abby said quietly. This time she took out a yellow envelope and removed photocopies of pictures, laying them out precisely.
Rick didn’t recognize any of the people beyond Edith Foster, but the woman in each picture was wearing the same necklace.
“Where did you get all of these?” He stared at the pages, some of the pictures very faded and a bit grainy.
“In the attic. I ran across some old albums when I first cleaned it out and I went looking a little closer.” She pointed at the first picture. “This is Edith, of course. Then we have this one—Amelia Foster, Elijah’s mother and wife to Robert. Then we have Martha, wife to Jed, who built this house. And finally, this one, dated 1864. George’s wife, Elizabeth. Right at the end of the Civil War. And that’s the last picture I have of the necklace. Not that we’d find pictures much earlier than that, anyway.”
Rick’s head was spinning.
“So how on earth did it happen to get into my mother’s possession?”
He stared at Abby, who turned her attention to Tom and the two of them shared a significant look.
“This is where it gets a little bit complicated,” Tom said quietly.
“What do you mean, complicated?” Rick asked, his voice low. He was dimly aware of Jess’s hand resting reassuringly on his forearm. She’d been very quiet during the exchange and he turned to her now. “Are you believing all of this?”
He could see in her eyes that she did. “I don’t think Tom and Abby would be telling you any of this if they weren’t sure.”
Which he knew. And which made his heart feel like it was sinking straight to his toes. Good God, had his mother stolen it? It seemed the only thing that made sense. But he couldn’t believe that. She would never have done such a thing.
“I hired someone,” Tom was saying. “To look into what might have happened.”
“Hired someone,” Rick found himself parroting. “Like a private investigator?”
Abby nodded. “Yes, a private investigator.”
Everything inside Rick went cold.
Abby and Tom shared a meaningful look. Rick’s temper bubbled. “Will you quit looking at each other that way? What aren’t you telling me?”
Jess’s voice interrupted. “Rick, calm down. I know it’s a lot to process…”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he bit out. They’d hired an investigator? Like his mother had been some sort of criminal? Did they really think she was capable of stealing?
He ignored the hurt look on Abby’s face. “Well?” he asked Tom.