Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(50)

“Mr. Hendricks from the museum called.”

“Oh?” Chloe’s senses went instantly on guard, knowing this would be about the necklace.

“Apparently,” Allison said carefully, “Luc filed his claim with the Texas Historical Commission.”

“I see.” Just hearing his name made her gut knot with that painful tug-of-war.

“Now, before you get upset, Mr. Hendricks assured me that you have nothing to worry about. The commission hasn’t made it official, but they feel Luc doesn’t have enough evidence to support his claim, since the animated portal in his game isn’t an exact match to the pendant. Chances are good he’ll lose his case.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders sagged as anger gave way to one of those pangs of remorse she’d started feeling on Luc’s behalf, when she was in her wondering-if-she’d-overreacted frame of mind.

“You don’t seem happy.” Allison’s brow dimpled in confusion.

“I’m not,” she said in agitation. Digging past the casual clothes she wore on Pearl Island, she rummaged through the trendier designer pieces she’d bought on a shopping spree with her mother, back when they’d been on better terms. “What the Commission decides doesn’t mean anything. Am I supposed to feel good that they’re going to deny Luc’s claim? They aren’t doing it for me. They’re doing it so they can keep the necklace on display in the museum. Which is something I’ve tried to explain to Diane each time she pressures me to get a clear claim on the necklace. The State isn’t going to hand it over to anyone easily. What makes things worse in Luc’s case is he might have had a chance, until I destroyed the only real evidence he had.”

“Chloe, that was an accident.” Allison frowned at her.

“Maybe.” Grabbing a couple of tops, she laid them on the bed to start building outfits. “The thing is, I’m not sure anymore. I was so mad and hurt, maybe I did throw it in the cove.” She looked at Allison as guilt filled her. “That notebook was more than a sketchpad, it was Luc’s idea book when he was creating his game. The one thing I’m sure isn’t a lie is how Luc feels about Vortal. I destroyed a part of that. Now you tell me that without the sketchpad, he can’t get his grandmother’s necklace back? I destroyed that, too?”

“Oh honey.” Allison smoothed Chloe’s hair back behind her shoulder in a motherly gesture. “You didn’t.”

“But—”

“You didn’t,” Allison said with absolute conviction. “Jack did it.”

“What?” Chloe blinked.

“I’ve been debating whether to tell you this, but AJ told Rory what happened that day. He said Jack saw you fighting with Luc, or ‘the bugger’ as Jack apparently put it.” Allison trailed a hand through the air, laughing lightly. “I guess we should be glad our resident sea captain doesn’t use stronger language around the children, or we’d be getting notes from teachers saying our children have the vocabulary of sailors. Anyway, Marguerite saw that the sketch pad and Luc upset you, so Jack blasted the pad into the cove, then made ‘the bugger’ leave.”

“Oh my God.” Chloe remembered Luc’s shivering. “You’re saying even Luc has felt the ghosts? But not me?”

“Which is why I wasn’t going to tell you. Don’t you see, though?” Allison said. “Captain Kingsley was protecting you. You’ve wanted proof that he and Marguerite accept you, and what better proof than that?”

“Not liking Luc isn’t proof that they accept me.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Allison shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, returning to the closet to grab some pants and skirts to go with the tops. “It shouldn’t be such a big deal to me, but it is.”

“I know. I don’t really understand why it’s important, but I know it is.”

Of course Allison didn’t understand, Chloe thought, because she’d never explained to anyone that she felt like an outsider here. Except Luc. She’d told him, and he’d seemed to get it. Had he only pretended to get it so she’d help him recover the necklace? Her head ached with confusion.

“Either way,” she sighed, “I wish Jack hadn’t destroyed Luc’s sketchpad. Whether Luc lied to me or not, I feel horrible about that.”

Allison remained silent for a while, as if contemplating whether to voice whatever she was thinking. “Have you thought about apologizing to him?”

“I have, actually.”

“And…?”

“I play it out in my head, and every time it ends badly.” Opening the top drawer of her dresser, she considered jewelry options to pull the outfits together. “In one version, he’s just as furious as he was when it happened and repeats that he’ll never forgive me. That would be bad enough, but then there’s a worse possibility. He says he forgives me, and we get back together, but it turns out he’s lying about forgiving me so that he can have revenge sex. Then there’s the scenario where, after he pretends to forgive me, I ask him if our two days meant anything to him, and he says, ‘Of course they did, baby.’” She mimicked the tone of a man who’s obviously lying. “It’s like Ralph telling my mother, ‘Of course I love you, baby,’ right up until the day he finally admitted he’d been cheating for months and wanted a divorce. Or my father saying, ‘I’m sorry I missed your birthday-slash-school-game-slash-whatever, but I promise I’ll make the next one.’ Men lie.”