Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2020, look forCaroline Delacroix’sstory in
- About the Author
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- Back Cover
His gaze tracked to the spice map tacked on the wall, and a helpless smile curved his mouth. Where was Annabelle at this very moment? With all his heart, he hoped she would find something wonderful in his greenhouses in Windover Landing. It would thrill him beyond words if one of the hundreds of specimens he’d shipped home over the years proved to be of value to her.
He wished she wasn’t so obsessive about pleasing the Smithsonian. She didn’t need to be. If she would marry him, he could keep her and Elaine in the lap of luxury. He’d always been decisive, and after a proper courtship, he had every intention of marrying her. A proposal at this point would be premature, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t begin planning for it.
It was still an hour before the banks closed, and he wanted to get his mother’s engagement ring out of the vault. After decades of sitting in a locked bank vault, it was time for that ring to shine on another woman’s hand.
He retrieved the tiny key for the family’s safe deposit box and handed it to Otis. “When you deliver the next round of Pelican contracts to the bank, please get my mother’s engagement ring from the vault.”
It was time to start planning.
Fifteen
Annabelle asked the housekeeper for a tour of the farmhouse at Windover Landing. “I didn’t get a chance to see much of it the last time I was here,” she explained as she arrived at the house.
Lester and Tabitha Jenkins lived year-round in the farmhouse. Lester was tall and gangly, with leathery skin and deep grooves along the side of his mouth. He was a man of few words, but his wife was the opposite, a short magpie of a woman who chattered from the moment Annabelle arrived.
“This place is so big with just me and Lester rattling around most of the year,” Tabitha said as she led Annabelle through the ground floor. “Old Mr. Delacroix used to come out a lot. Loved the plants, he did. Don’t see so much of Mr. Gray, but he usually pops in once or twice a month, mostly because I suspect that I’m a better cook than that woman he’s got cooking for him in town.”
Tabitha rattled on, but Annabelle was all eyes as she scanned the interior. Simple white wainscoting lined all the rooms, which boasted tall ceilings and sparse furniture. The only exception was a library with an entire wall of well-thumbed books and maps. There was no desk, no filing cabinets, and no locked cupboards.
Annabelle smiled as she took a few steps into the room. “I suppose you must have plenty of time for reading during the winters.”