The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

the others at Mallory Plantation. He wouldn’t have locked it up in a home safe and left town,” Elliott said. “So we have to assume that he either used Ensley’s, or he’s gone to a reenactment.”

“I found a website that lists the top thirty-five battle reenactments this year,” Tavis said, “and the Battle of New Market Reenactment is this weekend in New Market, Virginia. Maybe he’s doing a weekend thing with a girl.”

“Not James Cullen,” Elliott said. “His friend Ensley is in trouble. I know in my gut that my son has traveled back in time to rescue her.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Tavis asked.

David stopped at a stoplight, checked for messages, sent a text, then put his phone away. “Let’s return to the plantation, call a meeting, and tell the family what we know. We’ll brainstorm the clues, and Kenzie will find the connection.”

“I hope it’s that easy,” Elliott said. “This adventure has the potential of being more dangerous than the last one.”

“We can assume all adventures going forward will be more dangerous than the last,” David said. “There’s more at stake.”

“I’d bet my Apple stock that James Cullen stirred up a hornet’s nest when he was in Asia.” Elliott looked back at Tavis. “Can ye contact Erik?”

“I can go to the Shetland Islands and try, but unless it’s a threat to you or the stones, he won’t answer.”

“Let’s see what happens when the family meets.” Elliott had screwed up by allowing James Cullen to distance himself from the family. In hindsight, Elliott should have found a way to entice his son back into the fold. But he and Meredith agreed to give James Cullen as much autonomy as he wanted. And now he might be in over his head.

24

Mallory Plantation, VA—Elliott

Elliott sent a WhatsApp message to all the adults in the family, and everyone responded except for Austin. If the lad didn’t snap out of it, accept his bone-crushing disappointment, and find purpose in his life again, he’d end up throwing everything away on drugs and what-might-have-been.

And Elliott understood that. He’d been there, done that, and wallowed hopelessly in emotional and physical pain. If not for Meredith, his alcohol and pain medication abuse would eventually have killed him.

Elliott excused all family members who weren’t at Mallory Plantation from virtually attending the meeting, promising a group call later to give them an update. The smaller size would make the get-together more manageable.

At seven o’clock that night, he entered Braham’s recently remodeled green conference room. Instead of creating a more contemporary space, Braham and his designer went in the opposite direction. The room now resembled President Lincoln’s executive office or “the shop” at the White House, but with twenty-first-century lighting and electronics.

The space was somber and humbling. And Elliott was counting on the room’s ambiance to help calm all the participants.

He was the first one there. Before taking his customary seat at the head of the “council table,” he poured a cup of coffee, and it wasn’t decaffeinated, either. Trainer Ted would jump his ass for drinking caffeine at night, but Elliott could use the kick. The six couples coming to the meeting—JL and Kevin, Pops and Maria, Kenzie and David, Rick and Penny, Kit and Cullen, Charlotte and Braham—were a tough crowd, and he’d have to pull the Keeper card to keep them in line.

The couples, plus Meredith, slowly gathered around the table. He’d already brought Meredith up to speed within minutes of his return from DC. If he ever dared to blindside her at a meeting, he might as well pack his bags and go back to Kentucky—alone.

Just as Elliott was about to close the door, Tavis rushed in, making a beeline for the coffee carafe on the credenza.

“Where’s Remy?” Elliott asked.

“He was detained in Richmond and said to go ahead and start. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.” Tavis carried his coffee to the empty chair next to David and placed his cell phone next to his mug.

Elliott knocked on the table to quiet the side conversations. “Penny, do ye want to tell the others about yer call this morning?”

“Sure, boss,” she said. “First, let me start by saying I’m sorry I didn’t share this with anyone except Rick earlier, but Elliott asked me to keep it to myself.”

“She knows payback is hell.” Rick squeezed her neck, and when she turned to face him, he kissed her.

Everything Elliott had hoped for this couple had come true. They worked together, and their joint efforts had resulted in numerous awards for Montgomery Winery: Global Winner: Architecture & Landscapes; Regional Winner: Arts & Culture; Regional Winner: Innovative Wine Tourism Experience; Regional Winner: Sustainable Wine Tourism Practices, and the list went on, including the annual international wine awards.

Besides, Meredith was pleased, and anything that pleased his bride pleased him.

Rick and Penny’s three-year-old son, Jean, was probably the best equestrian out of all the children ten and under, and he was a happy, loving child. Instead of calling Elliott “Grandpa” like all the others, Jean called him boss, which always tickled Elliott.

While wee Jean had never met his namesake, Jean Lafitte, he carried himself with a swagger that befitted the famous pirate. It was cute at three, but at ten, he’d probably get his attitude adjusted by one of his O’Grady cousins. Rick was balancing the swagger by encouraging the lad’s musical talents—voice, piano, violin, and guitar. The preteen girls in the family already thought Jean was a heartthrob. But they were a fickle bunch.

Penny pushed away from the table and stood. “I can’t sit. It’s too uncomfortable.”

“Take yer time, lass. If it’s more comfortable, walk around.”

“I’m okay.” She pressed her fists into her lower back. “This morning, I received a call from a detective in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He was investigating the disappearance of a young woman. When he entered information about her disappearance into a national database, my name popped up as disappearing under similar circumstances.”

“Let me guess,” JL said in a sarcastic tone. “The smell