The Swan Syndicate – Chapter One

Baywood, Oregon – Present Day

Stella Caldway sighed with pleasure as she pulled her red convertible, top currently up, into her driveway. Twinkling white lights wrapped around the small fir tree near the brick walkway leading to the front door. Another string ran along the roof line of her bungalow-style home.

She could have sworn she’d turned the Christmas lights off last night and must not have noticed when she raced out of the house that morning, already ten minutes late for her meeting with Alexis, another local Realtor.

Several months before, she’d returned to Baywood after a man from the past had kidnapped her and taken her through the fog to 1805 England. She’d known about time travel before it happened. Her best friend AJ had been taken to the past by her now husband, Finn Murphy, by way of ancient stones and a Celtic incantation.

Since then, she’d found little interest in her one-woman broker business. It was difficult for anything to hold her attention for long after being kidnapped twice and almost losing the love of her life in a power struggle for the stones. She decided to maintain a few long-time clients and slowly turned over the rest to Alexis.

She stared at the miniature lights until they blurred, wondering why she’d never considered decorating the outside of the house. Christmas was one of her favorite holidays, and she always went a little over the top on the interior decor. She smirked. After the trip to France during the previous year’s holiday with AJ, Finn, and the entire family, the idea of outdoor lights had given her second thoughts.

Her gaze refocused, and she grinned as she tugged on a lock of her wavy auburn hair while viewing the yard. Beckworth, her significant other, lived with her. She wasn’t really sure what to call him—boyfriend didn’t quite fit. Lover?

He didn’t have electricity where he’d come from, and he’d been like a kid in a candy shop when they went shopping for decorations. The sparkling lights weren’t the only items that caught his interest. He fell hard and fast for the whole spirit of the holidays. He’d firmly secured three reindeer and a fat Santa on the lawn. She’d also caught him whispering to Finn, who was an inspiring furniture maker, about building a sled.

Oh, Teddy. What am I going to do with you?

Viscount Theodore Beckworth of Waverly Manor, aka Teddy to only a handful, was a man out of time. A man from two hundred years ago, who had left his hard-fought title and manor in England to be with her. He’d had a mercurial background, once considered an enemy when he’d kidnapped AJ and taken her and the stones to France. But, after helping AJ find Finn when he’d been near death, he slowly earned their trust.

It wasn’t like he was the only one. Finn was also from the past but had lived in Baywood for some time and was well-acclimated to the present day. Three others from Napoleon’s era had traveled forward to spend the rest of their lives in present-day Oregon.

Time travel between the past and present had somehow become common place for their small clutch of family and friends. Though most had agreed that the stones they’d brought with them for safekeeping should remain locked away.

She was still smiling as she entered the house and took a whiff of blue spruce seeping out from the family room. They would have to take the tree down soon, but it was fun to cuddle on the couch and watch old movies with the Christmas tree providing the only light.

After dropping her purse on a side table, she wandered through the house, expecting Beckworth to be in the living room, kitchen, or bedroom. There was an office, but he rarely spent time there, preferring to create his own private study that he’d set up in the guest room. He wasn’t there either.

As a last resort, she glanced through the sliding glass door that led to the back patio. The skies were winter gray, but the air was dry if cool. The enclosed intimate yard was a gardener’s paradise. She’d spent countless hours outside with AJ, gossiping and laughing over a bottle of wine. Even though it wasn’t just the two of them anymore, they still found a way to squeeze in girl time.

“What are you doing out here?” Stella stepped onto the patio and studied the man. He was on his knees, bending over a grouping of hostas. Her gaze landed on his blue jean-covered backside and didn’t think she’d seen anything so sexy.

“I’m cutting off the spent flowers and noticed something had been burrowing, so I thought I’d cover up the hole.” Beckworth leaned back to rest on his heels. He waved to the other side of the garden. “Mrs. Simpson brought over a small cutting of heather. I think she overheard me talking to Mr. Chopra about the wild heather in England. There was an open spot in the far corner. I think it will do well there.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned his cornflower-blue eyes up at her. “What is it?”

She must have been wearing a silly grin because the confusion on his face was priceless. If she only had her phone to snap a picture. God knew he’d taken hundreds of her in the last seven months. Who would have thought this man, who’d mingled with aristocrats in London and had been a dangerous spy for the Crown, would end up tending her garden? “I’m imagining you in that same pose in the gardens at Waverly.”

He pushed his ash-blond hair back before giving her a smile that made her heart skip a beat. “Don’t tell anyone, but during fall cleanup, when most of the manor believed I’d gone to Eleanor’s, I dressed in the gardener’s livery and tilled the soil in the far side of the garden. Sometimes, on the way back from Eleanor’s, when the flowers were in bloom, I’d been known to cut a dead flower here and there.”

She clapped her hands together. “As Dame Ellingsworth would say, how marvelous.” It was crazy to think about what they were about to do. “I’d like to see that when we go back.”

His smile faded. “Are you sure you want to go? I’d understand if it’s too much to ask. It’s just that I feel a responsibility to check in.”

She marched over and held out her hands. He took them, and when he stood, she pulled him in for a long, slow kiss. He wrapped an arm around her lower back and tugged her closer. It was a couple of minutes before he let her go.

She wiped a touch of lipstick off his lip. “I can’t deny I’m nervous, but I trust Maire. She’s the best at deciphering and rewording the incantations. And I don’t want you going anywhere that I can’t go, too. Well, not unless it’s like a guy’s weekend or something like that. Then it would be okay.

Unless you were going to Vegas. Or one of those resorts for singles. I suppose that would obviously upset me. What?”
His grin matched the humor in his gaze. In fact, it was likely he was ready to burst with hysterical laughter.

She grinned. “Sorry. I got sidetracked.”

“I believe that means you have the normal jitters of anyone who’s purposely traveling back two hundred years for a short holiday.”

Her throaty laugher escaped. “Exactly.”

His tone became serious. “How is AJ dealing with this?”

She stepped away and picked up the garden tools, rinsing them off at her garden workstation. She set them down to dry, then wiped her hands on a towel.

“Stella. You’ve told her—right?”

She kept her back to him. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t found the right time.”

“We leave in three days. Don’t you think you should say something before Maire or Sebastian let it slip?”

She shrugged then fussed with cleaning off the workstation. His grip on her shoulders forced her to stop, and she blinked away tears that came out of nowhere. Good grief.

He didn’t turn her around to make her face him, instead he massaged her shoulders. “What’s this all about?”

When she didn’t answer, he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze then kissed her cheek.

“Do you know what I’m in the mood for?”

She rubbed at her eyes. “What’s that?”

“One of Donna’s pies. The sisters made their own pies when I lived with them. Then AJ had to bring home one of those pies from Donna’s. Now, I can’t think of a better pie. I like the Dutch apple the best. I’m going to change and then we’ll go get one. How’s that?”

He was up to something, but it was impossible to tell what it was. The sisters were Louise and Edith, widowed for several years, and they lived together in a quaint coastal neighborhood a couple miles south of town. A year or so ago, when Beckworth had been pulled from the past to the future, he’d fallen into their driveway—dazed and confused from an injury and the effects of traveling through the fog to a different time. They pampered him to the point of irritation, yet Beckworth had forged a strange friendship with them that remained strong even now.

He met her in the kitchen in jeans and a dazzling blue shirt that matched the color of his cornflower-blue eyes. His dark brown blazer and a scarf finished his look. Even in this modern time, Beckworth retained his fashion sense.

“I’ll drive.” He grabbed his keys from a blown-glass dish on the counter and patted her backside.

He was definitely up to something, but she couldn’t see any reason to complain or argue, so she inwardly sighed and grabbed her purse on the way out. He chattered about everything and nothing on their way, and, once they were at Donna’s, which she had to agree, had arguably the best pies she’d ever tasted, and she’d tested quite a few in her life, they both got lost in staring at the numerous selections.

They bought a Dutch apple, a strawberry, and a Marionberry because they lived in Oregon, and everyone had to have the best blackberry pie. He put the pies in the car then took her for coffee.

“I know Mary and Hensley will be able to join us at Waverly for a hunting weekend, but I’m not sure about Elizabeth. She tends to make plans several weeks out.”

Stella loved Dame Elizabeth Ellingsworth. She scared the bejesus out of AJ, but Stella found her to be a woman out of time. Basically, not one to mess with. She knew all the ways of manipulation and machinations to get things just her way. Stella snickered to herself. A skill all young women should learn.

“I’d miss her if she weren’t able to attend, but a weekend with Eleanor and Mary will be just as fun. Eleanor will come, right?”

“In the past, it’s always depended on her mood and whether she felt like company. But if we’re there, she’ll want to catch up.”

“Does the hunting take up the whole day?”

He laughed. “No. Just a few hours, and sometimes we come home with nothing to show for our efforts.”

“So, it’s kind of a guy thing to get away from the women?”

“Not at all. Women join the hunt as well. Mary and Eleanor wouldn’t be interested, but you could join us.”

She shuddered at the thought of racing around the countryside on a horse. Though, surprisingly, her skills on horseback had improved since the first time when she had to share one with Beckworth during their escape from Gemini.

“Let’s wait and see how that goes.”

He chuckled and gave her a swift kiss before picking up her empty cup and tossing it in the trash. “Let’s get these pies home.”

When he missed the turn for home, she didn’t question him. He liked to take the long way, still getting familiar with the streets. It was instinctual for him to want to know where he lived. He grew up a street urchin in London, working for the gangs, which required knowledge of the city and quick escape routes. Not something he needed now, but when he’d been in Baywood previously, he’d been the enemy. It was a habit he couldn’t shake.

He didn’t make any other turns, and the city began to give way to the coast. Her knee began to bounce.

“Where are you going?”

“You didn’t think we were going to eat all those pies with the few days we have left.”

“You tricked me.” Her fingers played at the edge of her sweater, and when Beckworth glanced over, he smirked. “What?”

“I should have brought some paper for you.”

“You think making a few swans will make up for this?” She glanced out the window as he made a turn into the driveway of the Westcliffe Inn, the non-functioning bread and breakfast hotel that AJ and Finn called home. She suppressed a smile, reminding herself she should be angry with him. Her penchant for making origami swans was widely known among her friends both in this time period and in 1805. She made them when she was nervous, bored, or working through problems. So, pretty much all the time.

She didn’t just create swans. She could fold a single sheet of paper into a crane or a fish, but she preferred swans and could make them with her eyes closed.

Charlotte, AJ’s niece, had become adept at making origami figures, pushing Stella to learn more shapes to satisfy the youngster, who’d begun to idolize her “auntie.”

“I simply thought it would be an easier discussion with family.” Beckworth didn’t seem fazed by her grumpy attitude.

She understood how important it was for him to see Waverly. For a kid raised in the harsh streets of London, he’d worked hard and, admittedly, had performed some unscrupulous tasks while working for the Duke of Dunsmore. It paid off with the acquisition of Waverly Manor and the title of Viscount.

Most might consider the manor to have been bought from tainted money, but how else was someone from the streets able to rise above their station? Besides, Beckworth, the bastard son of the duke, had tried to make a connection with his father, only to have it all thrown back in his face. If Finn hadn’t killed the man, she would have done it—just on principle.

When he gently squeezed her hand, she had to admit this was the best way. She expected AJ and Finn to push back on their crazy idea to call the fog. It wasn’t like time travel was a science. The mysterious stones and secret incantations, discovered in an ancient text written by paranoid Druids before the time of Julius Caesar, would be considered outlandish, if not a downright immediate path to a sanitarium, which should make most people question their actions.

But AJ and Finn had traversed the mysterious fog several times—not completely by choice—and lived to tell the tale.

“This will all work out. You’ll see.”

Stella had expected Beckworth to call in the entire army, but the only other car besides AJ’s and Finn’s was the large black SUV Ethan drove. The small group was, as expected, sitting around the dinner table in the kitchen. The French doors that led to the wrap-around deck overlooking the Oregon coast were closed against the chilled air.

Though everyone appeared to be drinking coffee, except for Sebastian, the elderly monk from France who preferred tea, there was a new bottle of Jameson whiskey in the center of the table with seven short glasses circling it.

Something told Stella, AJ and Finn might have an inkling of what was going on. She should have known Maire wouldn’t be able to keep a secret from AJ, and while she should be mad, she was grateful someone else had dropped the bombshell.

Now, all Stella had to do was pick her way through the remaining shards of AJ’s anger.

It wasn’t that she’d been scared to tell her. It was that AJ would harp every day until they left about how dangerous it could be, that they wouldn’t know what they would be walking into, and all the worrisome things AJ had dealt with when everyone was chasing the stones. Those days were over. Most of the stones were in this century now as was The Book of Stones. But still, best friends shouldn’t keep these types of secrets.

All eyes turned to her as she walked through the entry to the kitchen. She took a step back, but Beckworth was right behind her, blocking a quick exit.

“The beans have been spilled,” AJ growled. “You might as well sit your ass down and explain what the hell the two of you are thinking.”