The Pagan Stone by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

fluttered her bangs. “Fox says it’s a slam dunk. I have references from him, Jim Hawkins, my former boss from the boutique in New York. My finances are—hah—modest, but in good order. And the town wants and needs businesses. Keep revenue local instead of sending it out to the mall and so on.”
    “It’s a good investment. You’ve got prime location here—Main Street only steps from the Square. You were raised in the business, as your parents owned a dress shop. Work experience, a canny sense of style. A very good investment. I’d like a piece of it.”
    Layla blinked at Cybil. “Sorry?”
    “My finances are healthy—not bank-loan healthy, but healthy enough to invest in a smart enterprise. What have you projected as your start-up costs?”
    “Well . . .” Layla named a figure, and Cybil nodded and wandered. “I could manage a third of that. Quinn?”
    “Yeah, I could swing a third.”
    “Are you kidding?” was all Layla could say. “Are you kidding ?”
    “Which would leave you to come up with the final third out of your modest finances or the bank loan. I’d go with the loan, not only to give yourself breathing room, but for tax purposes.” Cybil brushed back her hair. “Unless you don’t want investors.”
    “I want investors if they’re you. Oh God, this is—wait. You should think about it awhile. Seriously. You need to take some time, think about it. I don’t want you to—”
    “We have been thinking about it.”
    “And talking about it,” Quinn added. “Since you decided to go for it. Christ, Layla, look what we’ve already invested in each other, and in this town. This is only money—and as Gage would probably say, we want to ante up.”
    “I’ll make it work. I will.” Layla brushed away a tear. “I will. I know what we are to each other, but if you do this, I want it all legal and right. Fox will . . . He’ll fix it, he’ll take care of that part. I know I can make it work. Now, especially, I know I can.”
    She threw her arms around Quinn, then opened up to pull Cybil into the hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
    “Not necessary. Remember what else Gage might say,” Cybil reminded her.
    “What?”
    “We could all be dead before August.” With a laugh, Cybil gave Layla a pat on the butt, then stepped back. “Have you thought of any possible names for the place yet?”
    “Again, are you kidding? This is me, here. I have a list. In fact I have three lists, and a folder. But I’m tossing them because I just thought of the perfect name.” Layla held her hands out to the sides, palms up. “Welcome to Sisters.”
     
    THEY SEPARATED, LAYLA TO THE OFFICE, QUINN to have lunch with Cal’s mother to discuss wedding plans, Cybil back home. She wanted to pursue the bloodstone-as-weapon angle, and push deeper into the idea of it being a fragment of a larger mystical power source.
    She liked the quiet and the solitude. It was good for thinking, reshuffling thoughts, for moving them around like puzzle pieces until she found a better fit. Because she wanted a change of venue, she brought her laptop and the file of notes she’d printed out that dealt specifically with the bloodstone down to the kitchen. With the back door and windows open to the spring air, she made iced tea, fixed a small bowl of salad. Over lunch, she reviewed her notes.
    July 7, 1652. Giles Dent (the Guardian) wore the bloodstone amulet on the night Lazarus Twisse (the Demon) led the mob it had infected to the Pagan Stone in Hawkins Wood, where Giles had a small cabin. Prior to that night, Dent had spoken of the stone, and shown it to Ann Hawkins, his lover and the mother of his triplet sons (who would be born on 7/7/1652). Ann wrote of it, briefly and cryptically, in the journals she kept after Dent sent her away (to what would become the O’Dell farm) in order to birth their sons in safety.
    When next documented, the stone had been divided into three equal parts, and was clutched in Cal Hawkins’s,