The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

plastic chair, fidgeting because Jack’s flight had been delayed thirty minutes. She tapped her foot and cursed under her breath with her mobile phone in the left hand while typing one-handed on her iPad with the other. Communications from staff filled her in-box, but nothing from Braham. She laughed then. He couldn’t send her an email. He didn’t have a computer, and he didn’t know her address. And what would he say?

Hi, Charlotte. I stole your car and drove to Kentucky.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. “You ready?”

She jerked her head up to see her brother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know your plane had landed.”

His eyes widened in frank appreciation. He hadn’t shaved yet, and the stubble rasped when he scratched his chin. “So, what’s up with the dress? I haven’t seen you in anything other than jeans or scrubs in months.”

She shrugged. “Thought if I was going to pay for a private plane, I should at least look like I could afford it.”

He held out his hand. “You can afford it. You have millions and never spend a dime. But give me the bill. I’m working a story angle, so it’s a business deduction for me.”

She slapped the receipt into his hand. “Gladly. It’s all yours. You make more money than I do.” She snapped her iPad cover shut and shoved it into her bag, and they headed over to the car rental office. “Do you have a plan for today? Are we going to treat Braham like a recalcitrant child?”

“Wouldn’t work,” Jack said. “We’ll have to play it by ear. It depends on what he’s told them.”

“I doubt he’s told them the truth. He’ll probably tell them his ancestor and Meredith’s ancestor were business partners, and he was in town visiting and wanted to meet her. At least it’s what I’d say.”

As usual, every woman they passed gave Jack a once-over. He was movie-star handsome, but he could be a jerk.

“Slow down before I twist my ankle.”

He glanced down at her feet. “You’re wearing four-inch heels. You’re liable to not only twist your ankle but break your neck.” Jack’s phone beeped with a text message. He read the message and returned the device to his inside jacket pocket. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Braham when you see him? Probably not. Which is why you’re all dressed up.” Jack eyed her closely. “You’re even wearing mascara. Charlotte has a boyfriend.”

Her face heated. “Stop it. Why do you like to embarrass me?”

“Because it’s fun.”

“I think it’s bullying. And I didn’t dress up for him, but I do have a few well-chosen expletives written down.”

Jack held the door to the car rental office open for her. “Your vocabulary doesn’t extend beyond two four-letter words—damn and hell. Maybe you should practice them on me first. Let me hear them. Give me your best shot.”

She gestured with her middle finger, hiding it behind her purse so only he could see.

Jack threw back his head laughing.

Fifteen minutes later they were pulling out of the airport in a rental car. “What’s the address?” Charlotte asked.

He handed her a sheet a paper. “Enter this into your phone and tell me where to go.”

They followed the directions to New Circle Road and exited on Old Frankfort Pike. “This road is beautiful. The rolling hills and white plank fences remind me of Virginia.”

“Until 1792, it was Virginia.” Jack drove slowly so he could enjoy the view along with her.

“How long has MacKlenna Farm been in the family?” she asked.

“It went bankrupt a few years ago and Fraser bought it out of bankruptcy.”

“How sad it’s not in the family now,” she said.

“Well, it still is, sort of. Fraser’s ten-times-great-grandfather was the illegitimate son of James Thomas MacKlenna, who founded the farm.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “How’d they ever figure it out? They had to at least go back to the seventeen hundreds.”

“The article I read last night said Meredith discovered the connection while she was doing genealogy research in Edinburgh. James Thomas MacKlenna immigrated to America and fought in the American Revolution. He was given the land as payment. He then returned to Scotland, where his brothers and sisters lived. He married and had a son, Thomas, who came to America and started MacKlenna Farm.”

“I wonder if there’re any records in Ireland about the parents of the Mallorys who started our plantation.”

“If anyone ever traced the family, I never heard about it, or never heard anything other than the Mallorys were Ulster Scots.”

“What are Ulster Scots?”

“Presbyterians from lowland Scotland who settled in Ulster and subsequently immigrated to America.”

“Hmm. You know what we need? An Aunt Mimi.”

“A what?”

“I have a friend who has an Aunt Mimi. She’s the family genealogist and has given all her siblings a binder with their entire family history. It’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe you can hire her to trace the Mallorys.”

“I’ll ask.” Charlotte’s phone beeped and she checked the message. The office was confirming she’d be back tomorrow for her appointments. She responded quickly and turned off her phone. She didn’t want any interruptions when she met with the Frasers. She rolled down her window to breathe in the cool, crisp air. “If I can’t hire Aunt Mimi, let’s go to Ireland and trace the family.”

“Sure. When are you going to take time off?” Jack pulled up to a security gate and leaned out to address the guard. “My name is Jack Mallory. I’d like see Elliott Fraser. I don’t have an appointment.”

The guard pushed a button and the gate opened. “Follow the road. You’ll end up right in front of the mansion.”

Charlotte frowned, gave her head a single shake. “This doesn’t make sense. Why have a security guard if you’re going to let everyone in?”

Jack looked at her and arched a brow slowly. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“How would you explain it in a book?”

He gave her a brief snort. “I’d say the people in the car were expected.”

Charlotte turned and glanced back at the guard. “He’s on