The Old Cape Teapot

T
HE
O
LD

C
APE
T
EAPOT

B
ARBARA
E
PPICH
S
TRUNA

Booktrope Editions

Seattle WA 2014

COPYRIGHT 2014 BARBARA EPPICH STRUNA

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License
.

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— You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

Noncommercial
— You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

No Derivative Works
— You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

Inquiries about additional permissions

should be directed to:
[email protected]

Cover Designers:

Loretta Matson

& Timothy Jon Struna

Edited by Nicola Burnell

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-590-5

EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-611-7

Bought by Maraya21

kickass.to / 1337x.to / demonoid.pw / h33t.to / thepiratebay.se

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014918193

"Fans of Barbara Struna's
The Old Cape House
will warmly
welcome this delightful sequel. Familiar characters from both the past and present return and find themselves
enriched in new mysteries spun from the legends of Cape
Cod pirates. Struna's historical research and exquisite plotting will keep both new and old readers captivated
and wanting more."

—James Lang, author,
Learning Sickness: A Year with Crohn’s Disease
(Capital Books, 2004) and
Cheating Lessons: Learning from Academic Dishonesty
(Harvard University Press, 2013)

“The legend of the pirate Samuel Bellamy grows with each retelling, and because the real man left no paper trail and little verifiable history, the legend takes on a new shine with each author’s voice. In
The Old Cape Teapot
, Barbara Eppich Struna brings legends and folklore to life through the discovery of artifacts from the past, and reunites them with her own version of this unique Cape Cod
story. It’s an
excellent read for those who enjoy a contemporary
treat—with some history on the side.”

—Elizabeth Moisan, author,
Master of the Sweet Trade: A Story of the Pirate Samuel Bellamy, Mariah Hallett, and the Whydah

To my husband Tim, my soul mate and partner in love, laughter, and eternal optimism.

Present Day

LONDON

ALEXANDER DAMIEN
ended his day in the study with the same ritual. He required a crystal goblet filled with the finest sherry and a tufted Corinthian leather chair in which he reclined to admire his ‘beauties.’ He gazed upon six small alcoves built into a long wall
lined in rich oak wood. Each one glowed with soft lights,
highlighting his priceless collections.

With the flick of his wrist and a light push on a button, the
middle
niche slowly moved towards him then stopped a few inches from his
knees.

“You are exquisite,” he said as he gently spoke to the Fabergé egg, now at eye-level. The oval treasure depicted a sapphire-studded
Cherub pulling a two–wheeled, silver-gilded chariot carrying a diamond-encrusted gold egg. Mr. Damien studied it for several
minutes, almost as
if he expected the cherub to move across the small platform that it rested upon. He sipped his sherry as the beautiful egg retreated backwards into its protected environment, nestled in the strong oak wall.

A second button brought another glass enclosure forward. “And
you, my beauty, will soon have a friend, perhaps to discuss the
intricacies of the diamond process or the pleasures of the royals from whence you came.” He so enjoyed admiring the star and badge of the Order of
Saint Patrick. The rubies, emeralds, and Brazilian diamonds
mounted
in silver were magnificent. The fact that he owned them was even more satisfying. Another button and the front glass disappeared
with a
swoosh. He carefully lifted the bejeweled star and caressed its
dazzling points, then returned it to the display.

As he savored his sherry, each treasure within the alcoves
presented itself to their guardian.

There was a slight rap on the door before an elderly gentleman entered. “Sir, will there be anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Stewart. You may lock up and set the alarm.”

“Has there been any word from Antigua?”

“Very little, but things seem to be in place.”

“Yes, sir. Good night, sir.” Stewart poured a drop more sherry and dimmed the lights.

Alone again, Mr. Damien smiled with relish as he thought of his
secret treasures. Over the centuries, everyone had assumed they
were
lost to the world, never to be found. His eyes moved towards the
only
light in the now darkened room, which came from the sixth alcove. It
was empty.

Present Day

BREWSTER - CAPE COD

THE FRONT PARLOR
of the old Cape house had become my office. It suited my needs and even had a pocket door in case I wanted to
hide from everyone. A manila file holding a hard copy of my
manuscript
was stored in the top left drawer of my desk. My writing was coming along; I was about half way to the finish line. The big
question was whether it was memoir or fiction? I was confident that I’d have time to figure it all out on the plane.

I looked around one last time at the framed pictures of the kids, me exploring the woods of Cape Cod, sailing on a replica of the 17
th
century Elizabeth Tilley, and posing for the newspaper wearing the antique necklace that I’d found among the pirate treasure. The room looked clean enough. I was only going to be gone a week.

I yelled into the foyer, “Martha, make sure Molly gets to camp on time.”

The sound of Danny’s five-year-old bare feet echoed in the foyer
as he slapped them against the wooden floor. “Do you have to go,
Mommy?”

“I won’t be gone long. Your brother misses me just as much as
you would if you were in a far-away place.” After one last check in the mirror, my light blue linen blouse looked nice against my
prematurely grey hair and navy blue cotton skirt. I grabbed my bag and hurried out of the office, ready for a comfortable journey ahead.

“Why did Brian have to go away?” Danny asked as he followed close behind me.

Over my shoulder I said, “He wanted to help people, so he
joined the Peace Corps.”

Martha filled the open doorway wearing a bright red paisley top
and black stretch pants that covered her huge derriere. She stared
out
into the driveway looking for my ride. Within seconds she yelled
out, “Your taxi’s here!”

“Thanks, Martha.”

As I turned to give Danny one more hug, Molly came running down the stairs with a big smile on her face and her eight-year-old arms swinging like a windmill. “Give Brian a big hug for me when you get there.”

Another squeeze for Molly and I was out the door.

Paul emerged from his studio to meet me at the end of the deck.
He put his arms around me. “I hope I don’t get any paint on your
new clothes. You look wonderful in that color blue.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I’m really going to miss you.”

He picked up my suitcase and put it into the waiting open trunk.

I turned to wave at Martha who was now holding Danny.

She called out, “Bye, Nancy. Make sure you don’t get involved with any pirates on Antigua!”

I found myself laughing at her comment as I climbed into the
back of the taxi.

Paul leaned his head into the window for one last kiss. “Nancy Caldwell, please try to have a nice, quiet visit with our son.”

I straightened my skirt, took a deep breath to relax, and sat back in my ride to the airport.

Stately homes and ancient trees flew by me like a movie in fast
forward. I thought of how much I loved living on Cape Cod as I
touched the antique locket around my neck for good luck.