“Don't close it off.” Coco searched desperately for the proper procedure. Now that something had actually happened, she hadn't a clue. A flash of lightning had her jolting. “Do you think she'll speak through you?”

At the opposite end of the table, Lilah smiled. “Just tell us what you see, honey.”

“A necklace,” C.C. heard herself say. “Two tiers of emeralds flanked by diamonds. Beautiful, brilliant.” The gleam hurt her eyes. “She's wearing them, but I can't see her face. Oh, she's so unhappy.”

“The Calhoun necklace,” Coco breathed. “So, it's true.”

Then, as if a sigh passed through the air, the candles flickered again, then ran straight and true. A log fell in the grate.

“Weird,” Amanda said when her aunt's hand fell limply from hers. “I'll fix the fiTe.”

“Honey.” Suzanna studied C.C. with as much concern as curiosity. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” C.C. cleared her throat “Sure.” She shot Trent a quick look. “I guess the storm got to me.”

Coco lifted a hand to her breast and patted her speeding heart. “I think we could all use a nice glass of brandy.” She rose, more shaken than she wanted to admit, and walked to the buffet.

“Aunt Coco,” C.C. began. “What's the Calhoun necklace?”

“The emeralds.” She passed the snifters. “There was a legend that's been handed down through the family. You know part of it, how Bianca fell in love with another man, and died tragically. I suppose it's time I told you the rest of it.”

“You kept a secret?” Amanda grinned as she swirled her drink. “Aunt Coco, you amaze me.”

“I wanted to wait for the right time. It seems it's now.” She took her seat again, warming the brandy between her hands. “Rumor was that Bianca's lover was an artist, one of the many who came to the island in those days. She would go to meet him when Fergus was away from the house, which was often. Theirs was not precisely an arranged marriage, but the next thing to it. She was years younger than he, and apparently quite beautiful. Since Fergus destroyed all pictures of her after her death, there's no way of knowing for sure.”

“Why?” Suzanna asked. “Why would he do that?” “Grief perhaps.” Coco shrugged.

“Rage, more likely,” Lilah put in.

“In any case.” Coco paused to sip. “He destroyed all reminders of her, and the emeralds were lost. He had given Bianca the necklace when she gave birth to Ethan, her eldest son.” She glanced at Trent. “My father. He was just a child at the time of his mother's death, so the events were never very clear in his mind. But his nanny, who had been fiercely loyal to Bianca,

would tell him stories about her. And those he remembered. She didn't care for the necklace, but wore it often.”

“As a kind of punishment,” Lilah put in. “And a kind of talisman.” She smiled at her aunt “Oh, I've known about the necklace for years. I've seen it—just as C.C. did tonight.” She lifted the brandy to her lips. “There are earrings to match. Emerald teardrops, like the stone in the center of the bottom tier.”

“You're making that up,” Amanda accused her, and Lilah merely moved her shoulders.

“No, I'm not.” She smiled at C.C. “Am I?”

“No.” Uneasy, C.C. looked to her aunt. “What does all this mean?”

“I'm not altogether sure, but I think the necklace is still important to Bianca. It was never seen after she died. Some believed Fergus threw it into the sea.”

“Not on your life,” Lilah said. “The old man wouldn't have thrown a nickel into the sea, much less an emerald necklace.”

“Well...” Coco didn't like to speak ill of an ancestor, but she was forced to agree. “Actually, it would have been out of character. Grandpapa counted his pennies.”

“He made Silas Marner look like a philanthropist,” Amanda put in. “So, what happened to it?”

“That, my dear, is the mystery. My father's nanny told him that Bianca was going to leave Fergus, that she had packed a box, what the nanny called a treasure box. Bianca had secreted away what was most valuable to her.”

“But she died instead,” C.C. murmured.

“Yes. The legend is that the box, with its treasure, is hidden somewhere in the house.”

“Our house?” Suzanna gaped at her aunt. “Do you really think there's some kind of treasure chest hidden around here for—what—eighty years, and no one's found it?”

“It's a very big house,” Coco pointed out. “For all we know she might have buried it in the roses.”

“If it existed in the first place,” Amanda murmured.

“It existed.” Lilah sent a nod toward C.C. “And I think Bianca's decided it's time to find it.”

When everyone began to talk at once, arguments and suggestions bouncing around the table, Trent raised a hand. “Ladies. Ladies,” he repeated, waiting for them to subside. “I realize that this is family business, but as I was invited to participate in this... experiment, I feel obligated to add a calming note. Legends are most often exaggerated and expanded over time. If there ever was a necklace, wouldn't it be more likely that Fergus sold it after the death of his wife?”

“He couldn't sell it,” Lilah pointed out, “if he couldn't find it.”

“Do any of you really think your great-grandfather buried treasure in the garden or hid it behind a loose stone?” One glance around the table told him that was precisely how they were thinking. Trent shook his head. “That kind of fairy tale's more suited for Alex and Jenny than for grown women.” He spread his hands. “You don't even know for certain if there was a necklace in the first place.”

“But I saw it,” C.C. said, though it made her feel foolish.

“You imagined it,” he corrected. “Think about it. A few minutes ago six rational adults were sitting around this table holding hands and calling up ghosts. All right as an odd sort of parlor game, but for anyone to actually believe in messages from the other-world...” He certainly wasn't going to add that for a moment, he'd felt something himself.

“There's something appealing about a cynical, practical-minded man.” Lilah rose to open one of the drawers of the buffet and unearthed a pad and pencil. After coming over to kneel by C.C.'s chair, she began to sketch. “I certainly respect your opinion, but the fact is not only did the necklace exist, I'm certain it still does.”

“Because of a nanny's bedtime stories?”

She smiled at him. “No, because of Bianca.” She slid the pad toward C.C. “Is that what you saw tonight?”

Lilah had always been a careless and clever artist. C.C. stared at the rough sketch of the necklace, two ornate and filigreed tiers studded with squarecut emeralds, sprinkled with diamond brilliants. From the bottom tier a large gem in the shape of a teardrop dripped.

“Yes.” C.C. traced a fingertip over it. “Yes, this is it.”

Trent studied the drawing. If indeed such a piece did exist, and Lilah's drawing was anywhere close to scale, it would undoubtedly be worth a fortune.

“Oh, my,” Coco murmured as the pad was passed to her. “Oh, my.”

“I think Trent has a point.”. Amanda gave the sketch a hard look before handing it to Suzanna. “We can hardly take the house apart stone by stone, even if we wanted to. Despite any sort of paranormal experience, the first order of business is to make certain—absolutely certain,” she added when

Lilah sighed, “that the necklace is a fact. Even eighty years ago, something like this had to cost an incredible amount of money. There has to be a record. If Lilah's famous vibes are wrong and it was sold again, there would be a record of that as well.”

“Spoken like a true stick-in-the-mud,” Lilah complained. “I guess this means we spend our Sunday pushing through a paper mountain.”

C.C. didn't even try to sleep. She wrapped herself in her flannel robe and, with the house creaking around her, left her room for Trent's. She could hear the murmur of the late news from Amanda's room. Then the hum of sitars from Lilah's. It didn't occur to her to feel awkward or to hesitate. She simply knocked on Trent's door and waited for him to answer.

When he did, with his shirt open and his eyes a little sleepy, she felt her first frisson of nerves.

“I need to talk to you.” She glanced toward the bed, then away. “Can I come in?”

How was a man to deal fairly when even flannel had become erotic? “Maybe it would be better if we waited until morning.”

“I'm not sure I can.”

The knots in his stomach tightened. “Okay. Sure.” The sooner he explained himself to her, the better. He hoped. Trent let her in and closed the door. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Too much nervous energy.” Hugging herself, she walked to the window. 'It stopped snowing. I'm glad. I know Suzanna was worried about some of her flowers. Spring's so unpredictable on the island.” She dragged a hand through her hair as she turned. “I'm making small talk, and I hate that.” A deep breath settled her. “Trent, I need to know what you think about tonight. Really think about it.”

“Tonight?” he said carefully.

“The séance.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “Lord, I feel like an imbecile even saying it, but, Trent, something happened.” Now she thrust those restless hands toward him, waiting for him to clasp them in his. “I'm very grounded, very literal minded. Lilah's the one who believes in all this stuff. But now...Trent, I need to know. Did you feel anything?”

“I don't know what you mean. I certainly felt foolish several times.”

“Please.” She gave his hands an impatient shake. “Be honest with me. It's important.”

Isn't that what he'd promised himself he would do? “All right, C.C. Tell me what you felt.”

“The air got very cold. Then it was as if something—someone—was standing behind us. Behind and between the two of us. It wasn't something that frightened me. I was surprised, but not afraid. We were holding hands, like this. And then...”