Changing Hands (eBook)

Nanette L. Avery (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Auflage
184 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-6995-5 (ISBN)

Infos

Changing Hands is the tale of one opal ring that makes its way through several centuries in the hands of vastly different owners. Multi-layered characters exchange ownership while slices of history dominate its survival and subsequent fate. Those in search of the ring take substantial measures like resorting to murder and robbery to obtain it. Through a forward-moving plotline that ultimately comes full circle, the story explores the transformative power of a single object across time and circumstance. 'Changing Hands is beautifully written, unusual, and undoubtedly captivating.' 5 Stars-Readers Favorite

Nanette L. Avery is a Tennessee-based novelist and short story writer who has delved into a variety of fiction genres, including murder mystery, historical fiction, and Southern Gothic. Her works have received praise from Kirkus Reviews and Foreword-Clarion Reviews, and her historical fiction title Orphan in America was named one of Kirkus Indie Books of the Year. Nanette lives outside Nashville with her husband and orange cat.

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Changing Hands is the tale of one opal ring that makes its way through several centuries in the hands of vastly different owners. Multi-layered characters exchange ownership while slices of history dominate their survival and subsequent fate. The story begins in the mid-1700s when James Newcomb Sr., traveling across the English countryside, ignores warnings by the locals and purchases a silver jewelry box containing exotic jewelry, one of which is a magnificent opal ring. Upon his death, the book journeys to the home of an eccentric artist and the opal's strange arrival. Love and deception lead the reader to the Arctic Ocean aboard an expedition following the transit of Venus. Cast in the shadows of love, morality, and greed, the book follows a story thread from one character to another in a span of several centuries. However, the appeal of the novel is not the reader following one person and exiting to another, but rather the following of an idea: the idea that humans in all times and locations are powerfully enticed and seduced by something we can never possess.

Textauszug

Chapter 2

The Curio Shelf

Electra tapped the egg with the side of her spoon, and as soon as the shell was breached, a yellow goo began to ooze out. “Miss Pepper! It’s too soft!” The housekeeper, who must have been anticipating such an event, scurried into the dining hall before she could be summoned again. “Look!’ lamented the diner, “It’s too, too…”

“Loose?” asked the housekeeper.

“Yes, oh, it makes me want to get sick.”

“I can make you another one, Miss Newcomb.”

“That’s okay, Pepper, maybe another piece of toast.”

“Very well. And you, Miss Newcomb, do you need a new egg, too?” she asked Tally with added disgust.

No, thanks, mine’s perfect.” She hadn’t cracked her egg but didn’t feel like wasting time. She had to finish breakfast so she could get to the studio. The dining hall door shut behind the housekeeper, along with her mutterings. “I’m just wondering if maybe, just maybe, it’s not you who found Hogan, but maybe he found you!” She wiped her mouth on the napkin before pulling her chair away from the table.

“I don’t understand.”

“On more than one occasion, you have worn the ring. So perhaps he saw you somewhere. Maybe this is just a coincidence. We’ll talk of it later; I must be getting along.” She pointed to the window, “The light and all.”

“Wait, you can’t go now! Finish what you were thinking! You think Hogan wanted the ring and not me?” squealed Electra, jumping up from her seat just as Pepper entered the dining room.

“Your toast is ready,” the housekeeper said, presenting the plate with a grin of satisfaction.

“I can’t!” Tally shouted.

“It’s not for you, Miss Tally,” remarked the dejected housekeeper.

“No, wait, you need to sit back down! Just for a moment!” begged Electra.

“I agree; the toast will get cold if you don’t sit down!” added Pepper to the commotion.

Tally yielded to her sister’s urgency, remarking, “You brought that pompous artist into our home.”

“True, so true,” sighed Electra disparagingly.

“You admitted it was his sensual smile, which, I might add, I have not seen.”

Electra shot her a look of dismay. “Oh?”

“All you can say is ‘oh’!” exclaimed the sister.

“What more can I say? You’re right; everything you’re thinking is correct. His charms took me in, stupidly I let him con me out of my ring, which…”

“Which you thought would buy his affection. I understand. But the opal ring from Father’s collection?”

“Mercy!” exclaimed Miss Pepper.

Electra scowled at the nosey housekeeper. The ignominious perils of love. Signs of betrayal seen by one side are defined as a casual affair by another. “I can’t bear the shame of him keeping the opal. And I can’t ever see him ever again.”

“Because?”

“Because if I do, I might regret what could happen. You must steal it back. My mind is capable of more than you can imagine!”

“So, the romance is over,” laughed Tally.

“More than over, dear sister. Can’t you smell it? That’s the smell of distrust. I’ll never get that odor out of my nose until the opal is returned.”

“I don’t smell it,” exclaimed the housekeeper.

“That’s because you’re not sniffing hard enough,” said Tally, jesting.

The depth of despair confounds the mind. It wanders through the countryside, evaporates the heart, and opens doors to strangers. Tally understood Electra confused love for passion. The painter was not an artist; he was a common thief. She watched as her humiliated sister bowed her head and began picking at the toast.

“It’s the light; I must get going,” and moving impatiently, Tally grabbed her shawl and coif before hurrying out.

Electra’s head was spinning with her sister’s revelation. Was it possible that she had been tricked? The notion of having been used was more than she could bear! She nibbled her toast before dropping it back on the plate.

“Is there something the matter with your toast, Miss Newcomb?” Pepper mumbled, moving away from the table.

“Oh, no, Pepper, I’m just wondering if anything I eat will ever taste the same again.”

“Miss?” remarked the young woman.

Electra looked up with thoughtful eyes. “It’s just that I’ve got a bad taste in my mouth, a mighty bad taste.”

The cottage hugged the side of the hill. Summer greens, verdant and moist from morning dew, could have seduced the model. But she was not a model. The charm and mystic lured by art did not tempt her. Instead, Tally resigned herself to conclude the mission as quickly as possible. She entered the cottage, slowly walking past the curio shelf. At first glance, the opal was not in view. She stood frozen in place, pretending to use her reflection to fix her hair as she peered through the glass.

“I see you like trinkets,” Hogan said. He approached like a bee to a flower.

“Some are amusing,” she replied, turning her head toward the artist. “Do you have a favorite?”

“I used to be a hoarder but recently gave away many of my treasures.”

“Does that mean you surrendered your favorite?”

Hogan smiled and opened the glass door, removing a leather pouch. “I suppose this is my favorite item. It was given to me by a fair lady.” His eyes sparkled when he spoke.

“Fair lady?” declared Tally. “Was it serious?” The moment of discovery seemed to be in her reach.

“Very,” he replied, still clutching the pouch.

“What happened to her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Hogan cleared his throat. “She died.”

“Died! How terrible. What happened?”

“Influenza.”

The doubts of mankind beg to be challenged, and Hogan was a weaver of lies. “I don’t believe you!” exclaimed the woman. “Let me see what you have in there!” Snatching the pouch, she pulled the string open, accidentally dropping its contents.

“Now look what you’ve done!” scolded the artist as he watched his precious gift roll under the Davenport.

“It’s a coin!” Tally announced.

“What did you think it was?” he complained.

“Well, what about this fair lady? Who is she?”

“If you must know, my sister!”

“Your sister?” Tally laughed, doubting his story.

“Yes,” he exclaimed and crouching on all fours, the coin’s retrieval met with a solemn sigh before he muttered several expletives and secured the pouch behind the glass. “The light, strange goddess; change and meet me in the studio.”

“Sister?” Tally thought. “Electra, how could you have been so stupid?” Tally removed her clothes and slipped the tunic over her head. Her feet, cold on the stone floor, made her walk briskly. Hogan stood with his back to the model as she stepped up on the platform. “I thought you were in a hurry,” she declared. The drafty room instigated her complaint.

“I hope you’re facing north,” he commanded, sharpening the graphite and blowing specks of black dust. He glanced out the window. A flock of swallows flew across the morning sky, “So black, so stealth,” he thought.

A searing rage remained fixed in Tally’s head. The incident of the morning could not be forgotten. “What about the opal?” she asked. Hogan continued without reacting to the question. “What about the opal ring?” she asked again. Still, Hogan remained intent on his work. “The opal!” she screamed. This time, he stopped. His face was blank of understanding. “The one you took from Electra!” Tally demanded.

For a moment, his expression conveyed recollection, and he grinned. “Electra, a lovely lady.” His thoughts drifted as he said her name. “She was not my type.” A pause interrupted his next comment. “Do you know her?” the artist asked. “Tell me, what is she up to?”

Electra’s shamed voice sparked like a firefly, igniting Tally’s instinct to react. The studio revealed more than a room; she wondered if the light could uncover more than she had been told. Hogan fixed his eyes on the model and gestured for her to change her poise. He lifted his hand to the sketch pad; a line traced from his fingers electrified the graphite. Tally remained still; she stayed in a three-quarter turn, hands to her side and neck tilted back. A warm breeze blew in through the open window, lightly swaying the flimsy tunic. He seemed to forget his question; silence consumed the moment as he drew with a feverish pitch. “The opal?” Tally asked.

“Shhhh, you’re not to talk.” He lifted the graphite from the drawing and rubbed the sketch with a rag. “You must not break my concentration.”

“I want the opal ring back,” she said, stepping off the platform.

“What are you doing!” cried the artist. “The light, we have only a few hours.” He dropped the graphite into his apron pocket and lunged toward the model to pull her back onto the platform. She recoiled, suddenly feeling his temper. “Get back up there,” he demanded, grasping the garment. He lunged again, grabbing her by the shoulder and yanked her back towards him. Panic clouded all her senses as Tally slipped from his grip. She glanced around and quickly ran for the stool. His brutality terrified...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.11.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-6995-5 / 9798350969955