tidy sum of money, though it was nowhere near the size of Myra’s fortune. Not to mention Annie’s. The Countess Anna Ryland de Silva was thought by many to be the richest woman in the world.
Charlotte had had a few best sellers early in her career, and toy manufacturers had licensed some of the characters. She’d been able to put her daughter through a pricey prep school and an equally expensive college. She had also established a trust for her grandson’s education, but this still left more than enough money for her to lead a very comfortable life. Her lifestyle was not really extravagant, but she could travel when and where she wanted and could play a round of golf whenever she felt like it in Aspen during the summer. She usually spent the winter months visiting friends in Florida, Arizona, Saint Thomas, and Barbados, and she made regular trips to the UK, where her daughter, Maryann, lived with her husband and Charlotte’s grandson.
Several days after she had sent the letter, she received an e-mail from Charles, husband and confidant to her friend Myra.
Greetings from across the pond. Myra and I
have arranged for you to join us at Pinewood.
Please review the attached itinerary and let me
know if it meets with your satisfaction.
Charlotte could almost hear the British accent in Charles’s e-mail. And she wrote back:
Sounds divine! Hope I am not putting anyone out?
Absolutely not! We are very excited to have you as our guest. Please let us know if there is anything else you need before you embark. Happy landings. See you in two days.
Charlotte reviewed the itinerary:
9:00 A.M. Private car pickup at 1223 Mulgrave Rd., Croydon
12:00 P.M. United Flight 919, first-class ticket from Heathrow to Dulles. Open return. Private car service to greet at airport and take to residence. Driver’s name Edward. Cell: 703-555-1987
Charlotte smiled as she read the e-mail. “Leave it to Myra and Charles to take care of everything.” She immediately felt a weight lift from her shoulders.... Or was it from her mind?
Chapter 2
Myra gushed on the phone to Annie. “Guess who’s coming for a visit?”
“Knowing you, Myra, it could be the queen of England,” Annie teased.
“Well, at least you have the country correct, smartypants. But it’s Charlotte! She was visiting her daughter in London and is stopping here on her way back to Aspen.”
Annie had first met Charlotte when they were young teenagers, when Charlotte’s family had lived on Myra’s parents’ farm. The last time the three of them had been together was when they took a trip to Sedona, Arizona, to “sit on a few rocks.” They still giggled over how sore their backsides were after climbing Bell Rock and perching on the Schnebly Hill Formation to experience the sunrise at the summer solstice. They would often debate about what hurt their bottoms more: the red rocks or sliding down the banister of Myra’s farmhouse.
“It will be nice to see her again,” Annie replied. “What brings her here? Besides to visit with her girlfriends?”
Myra fiddled with her pearl necklace, a habit she had developed many years ago, when she would be lost in thought after the death of her daughter, Barbara. “Hmmm . . . I—”
Annie immediately interrupted her. “I know that ‘hmmm,’ and I bet that right now you’re clinging to those pearls.”
“Oh, aren’t you the clever one?” Myra shot back.
“Maybe it’s because I know you so well. Spill. What’s going on?” Annie could be a relentless interrogator when she wanted to get to the heart of the matter.
“I received a letter from her yesterday. She seemed . . . out of sorts, you could say.”
“We all feel out of sorts from time to time. How out? And what kind of sorts?” Annie often said it was like pulling teeth to get Myra to talk about her feelings or something she wasn’t sure she could share.
“She’s having some . . . How did she put it? ‘Foggy moments,’” Myra replied.
Annie kept prodding. “That’s not unusual. What else is going on?”
“I’m not sure.” The sound of Myra’s voice told Annie that she was worried.
“My dear friend, if I know you—and I am sure I do—you will get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later.”
Myra chuckled. “You do know me, don’t you?”
At that moment, Charles appeared with a tray of freshly baked scones and tea. “How about a little break?”
“Annie, I have to go. Charles is plying me with those luscious raspberry scones. Oh, I want to have a dinner party for Charlotte.