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

the citizenry. Deserters are pressed into service at the Tredegar Iron Works to free up factory workers for military duty. The functioning intelligence network is hearing rumors of the prospective evacuation of Richmond.”

“What of Miss Van Lew?” the president asked.

“The Provost Marshal Thomas Doswell initiated an investigation of her.” Braham laughed. “Ye should have seen her. With head held high, she insisted she was a victim of the espionage and treachery prevailing in Richmond. She threw the accusations against her right back in his face. Her cover of respectability remains intact because of her mother. Fine women, both of them,” Braham said.

“The Union is deeply indebted to them. Miss Van Lew has aided the escape of Union prisoners, retrieved and buried dead soldiers honorably, and sends reliable information to Grant through her pipeline. I am still astonished she was able to place a spy in the Confederate White House.”

Braham and the president walked in silence to the War Department building’s entrance. Before opening the door, Lincoln said, “I want you to go back. The Union loyalists need a strong leader to ratchet up their activities. They remain firm in their resolve, but this war has to end soon. I need you inside.”

“I’ll be arrested as soon as I enter the city.”

“Not if they don’t know who you are. We’ll cobble together a satisfactory disguise.” Lincoln slapped Braham on the back. “Hell, we’ll make you thin as a beanpole and ugly as a scarecrow.”

The door opened and a soldier held it while they entered. Lincoln removed his hat and unfurled his scarf. “A man approached me one day not long ago and said, ‘If I ever came across an uglier man than myself, I’d shoot him on the spot.’ I told him, ‘Shoot me, for if I am an uglier man than you, I don’t want to live.’” Lincoln burst into a hearty laugh and exclaimed, “Looks aren’t so important. I got elected president, and I was the homeliest man in the State of Illinois.”

The last place Braham wanted to go was back to Richmond. God help him. Even thin as a beanpole and ugly as a scarecrow, his very survival would be at risk.

29

Richmond, Virginia, Present Day

Two days after Charlotte decided to return to the past she officially went on sabbatical. Surprisingly, her cover story—a six-month retreat in the Himalayas with her brother—was well received. Over the years she had sacrificed nights and weekends to help every member of the department. Charlotte could take the time off, the chairman told her, but she needed to return by summer or the department would be short-handed.

With work issues resolved, Charlotte met with her CPA and established a bill-paying account. Until she returned, a bookkeeper would pay all her expenses from those funds. It was a setup similar to one Jack had established when he became a best-selling author and decided he was too busy to mess with little details like paying the plantation’s electric bill.

Sweating from a long run, she now sat in her home office drinking a protein shake and reviewing her list again. Since her life revolved around work, she had few close friends who needed explanations. No pets. No vacations to cancel. No extracurricular commitments needing to be rescheduled. She didn’t have much of a life outside the hospital. Her lifestyle would change, though, when she turned forty and entered her Procreation Year.

After a shower, she headed downtown to the Southern Lady Sutlery, a supplier of Civil War reenacting supplies, dresses, and uniforms, where she spent the afternoon selecting fabrics and designs for six dresses with all the underpinnings, plus shoes, hats, and accessories. Then she paid a small fortune for a one-week turnaround.

When she told Jack, her dresses wouldn’t be ready for a week, he immediately booked a flight to Los Angeles to pitch his story concept to a producer friend. She was glad to see him leave. He had been driving her nuts with his impatient excitement. She instructed him not to return home before she was packed and ready.

30

Mallory Plantation, Richmond, Virginia, Present Day

“You told me you were ready to go,” Jack said, breathing heavily from dragging Saratoga trunks and portmanteaus down from the attic.

“Everything I’m taking is laid out on the bed in the guest room, waiting for the trunks. And you’re not packed, so don’t give me a hard time.”

“There’s an old valise in the attic I can use.”

“Bring your clothes in here and I’ll pack everything.”

He left to get his clothes and Charlotte went to work, folding her dresses carefully to prevent as many wrinkles as possible. An hour later she closed the trunks and dragged them to the entryway. While she waited for Jack to return, she sat down with her laptop to answer last-minute emails.

Jack entered the foyer jingling his car keys. “Are you ready?”

“Almost.” She finished an email and clicked send. “Everything is packed. You have greenbacks to pay our expenses. What else?”

“The post office is forwarding the mail to our CPA. I’ll set the alarm when we leave. The farm manager will take care of everything on the plantation, including the cat.”

She opened the next email and quickly scanned it. “What’d your agent say in the call you just finished?”

“She was relieved I wouldn’t be pestering her, but made me promise I’d have a draft to her as soon as I returned.”

Charlotte fired off a quick answer to the email and sent a copy to her chairman. Why were her colleagues asking her about the surgical residents’ evaluations? She wouldn’t be teaching for a while, all her required evaluations were in, and they all knew it. What part of the word sabbatical did they not understand? She turned her attention back to Jack. “How are you going to write a draft without a laptop?”

“In case you haven’t heard, pen and paper were invented a few years ago.”

“Ha-ha. Well…speaking of writing, I have something for you.” She dug into her computer case