Getting through finally?
“And if I said I took a job with your father?”
“Everyone works with him at some point.” Her grin never wavered.
“I stole a painting for your dad, Jill. I stole it from a museum and gave it to him.”
“My father has plenty of pieces on loan, I’m sure you just got one back he needed.” She rubbed her upper arm with one hand.
Tripp shook his head. “I’m not a good guy, Jill. Not the right one for you. I don’t just wear an earring because it’ll piss your father off … I wear it because it’s me. This star …” He pointed to the spot Lexi would trace with her fingertip, but Jill suggested he remove. “This is a birth mark. I can’t have it taken off.”
“Well, that’s okay. I can live with those things.”
Tripp spun back to the windows. Her marriage proposal, her failure to accept anything he told her grated on him. “You don’t understand.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist though the expression gave him no comfort. “These are just blips in the road, honey. It’s okay to be nervous.”
He peeled her arms away, took her hands in his. “Look up at me.”
She did as he asked.
“I’m leaving New York, and I’m not coming back. No matter how hard you try, you won’t find me. I’m not ready to get married to you, and I never will be. I’ve tried for six months to tell you this. This is the last time I’m doing it. Find a guy your dad will like.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she somehow kept them from spilling over. “But we’ve got a wedding to plan, we—”
“We are not a ‘we’. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Is there someone else?” Her voice turned hard, jealous, burning off the tears. “Because if so, well, I can’t—”
“Yes.”
She spun away, hurt and fury in the set of her eyes. “I can’t live with someone who would cheat on me, Tripp. That’s uncalled for.” She pointed to the door, one well-manicured nail indicating he should leave.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Jill. You’ll find the right guy. I’m just not him.”
He stepped through the opening and closed it with a soft click. As he approached Calvin again on the main floor, Tripp removed the key from his chain and placed it in Calvin’s hand.
“Will you make sure this gets to Lex—I mean Jill, please?”
Calvin nodded.
• • •
“Good mornin’, ladies!”
Lexi blinked half-closed lids as the sun and Janine’s voice carried through the room.
“Heard you guys were camping out in the old Fergs place, so I thought I’d bring breakfast.” She set out a table cloth and a series of plates on the floor.
The smell of eggs with some sugary sauce—perhaps caramel, apple or both—wafted to her.
“Mmm.” Lexi sat up, rubbing her temple.
“Too much wine?” Janine’s level of sweet came in both food and kindness.
“Yes,” Emma said and repeated Lexi’s motion.
As Missy pushed up, Janine walked to her. “I’m Janine. I own Dulces downtown. You must be Missy.”
She nodded. “I am, but how—”
“Would you believe it if I said this is a small town?” Janine asked.
Both Emma and Lexi shared in a laugh before Lexi turned to Missy. “Small towns spread gossip like wildfire.”
From within a picnic basket, Janine produced orange juice, cups, plates, a fruit basket and some of her more delicious pastries. “What she said.”
“Dulces is a restaurant downtown,” Lexi began. “It specializes in the combination of food with a sweet bent.”
“We heard the old Fergs house finally sold, and well, everyone downtown wondered who in the hell would buy the place. We figured a developer snatched it up or something. Then we heard your man bought it, Lex.”
Lexi tried to envision when such activities might have happened and remembered George and Marge’s wild ride downtown which nearly killed them.
She chuckled at the irony.
Had they spilled the beans?
“He did.”
“Where is he now?” She ladled eggs onto plates and passed plates full of breakfast to each of them.
“In New York.” Lexi scooped a forkful. “Oh, god, Janey, these are … amazing.”
She dug into her picnic basket as if searching for something. “Glad you like them. So why did Mr. Hottie leave?”
“Mr. Hottie is my brother, but I’m okay with the label. He had some business to attend to, I hear.” Missy bit into a mound of egg. “I second Lexi’s expression about this food. What’s in here?” She pointed with her fork.
“Egg, a bit of caramel and some apple.”
“I totally guessed right,” Emma said as she dug in.
“Mommy?” a small child’s voice called out.
“Aw, you brought the help, Janey?” Lexi held her hands out for Casey, who ran to her and wrapped her arms around her neck.
Janine’s four-year-old daughter often rode with Lexi when she needed to visit the Fergs or show the house to yet another prospective customer.
“I need to get one more thing from the car. Can she hang with you a sec, Lexi?”
Lexi snuggled into Casey. “Absolutely.”
“Where are Grandma and Grandpa?” Her little brown eyes scanned the room. “It’s empy in here.”
Lexi chuckled at the mispronunciation. “The Fergs moved away, honey. They went to Alaska, I think.”
“Did the horsies go away, too?”
“I don’t remember the Fergs having horses.” Lexi looked to her sister for confirmation.
“Maybe they were boarding a few for some neighbors?” Emma said.
“Where’s Moxie and Buster?” Casey’s big eyes held the sheen of tears.
“I’m sorry, honey. They all went with them. You can come visit the house again, though, I’m sure.”
“I finished the preliminary sketches last night,” Missy said. “I’m going to drive home today, finish them up and send them to you and Tripp by the end of the week.”
Lexi smiled over Casey’s shoulder. “I was hoping you’d do me a favor when you get back, Missy.”
“Anything, if you get me this recipe.”
“No way she’ll sell it to you,” Lexi said.
“Damn. Maybe she’ll open a second in D.C.? This would be over-the-top awesome there.”
“Told ya, Janey.” Lexi waved her fork in the air as Janine returned with a box of Lexi’s favorite chocolate. “I’ve said it from the beginning. Don’t think small. You’re the next Emeril or Martha Stewart of the kitchen—without the felony charges.”
The entire group fell into chuckles, Casey included, though Lexi knew she didn’t understand why they laughed.
“Since you all are now satisfactorily fed, I’m heading out,” Janey said. “We’ve got lunch starting at eleven if you need more or want something to take with you, Missy.”
“Um, yeah, definitely. I’ll stop by on my way out.”
Lexi stood, Casey’s hand in hers. “Let me walk you out.” As they reached the side door, she pulled Janine aside. “How’d you find out we were here? The small town bit aside. We didn’t go into a lot of detail about being here—”
Janine held her hand in the air, a smile across her lips. “Your man stopped in on the way to the airport yesterday and said his sister was going to renovate the farmhouse he bought. He also said she’d be spending the night here to get a feel for it and specifically asked me to bring breakfast for three, expecting you and Emma would join her. Guess he was right.”
Lexi’s lips curved. “Yeah, he was.”
“He’s a keeper, Lex. If I didn’t already snag my Kevin, I might have to bait him with dinners and lunches.”
“You’d win.” Lexi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “All
I’ve
got to offer is—”
Janine covered Casey’s ears.
“Oops. Sorry. Thanks for coming out.”
Mother and daughter walked together to the car, but Casey’s wide eyes back toward the barn caused Lexi to take in the same scene. Nothing out of the ordinary waited for either of them.
“You going to be able to drive home today?” Lexi plopped back down against the living room wall.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. What was it you wanted me to do?” Missy asked.
Lexi fingered the pendant, pulling it away from her skin. “You see this?”
Missy leaned down toward it. “Yeah.”
“I got this right before I met your brother, and there seems to be a connection between it and us.” Lexi crossed one leg under the other, heaving a sigh. “Anyway, I was hoping, maybe, I could get you to look up the woman who owned it before me.”
“Why? I mean, I’m happy to, but—”
“You’ve got a hunch, don’t you?” Emma raised an eyebrow. “What else did you read in that book last night?”
“From what I gather, Marge took it upon herself to bring Mara into their lives and left George in the dark. She was the one who couldn’t be caught, so it fits—”
Emma tapped a toe on the floor. “This is work for the police.”
“That’s a tough accusation to make,” Missy said.
Lexi nodded her agreement. “I don’t feel it, though. If I’m right, Mara’s disappearance is at least seventy years old, so I’m not going to the police on it. This is a no-point-in-dragging-in-the-authorities kind of situation, especially because it’s speculation.”
“But—” Emma started.
“There’s more, Em, but I want to check something first. Missy, if you don’t mind, I’d love it if you could get a meeting with Sherill. That’s the name of the woman who told me about this pendant. Just ask her about the necklace.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you went, Lex?” Emma asked.
“Maybe, but I was hoping for a more neutral perspective. I go in asking and she knows I’m fishing for information since I already have it. Just see if you can sneak a line about George and Marge Fergs, Mara Fergs—those names—just mention them and see what happens. I just want to know her reaction at this point on them.”
Missy snuck a strawberry. “I thought my brother’s life was full of adventure, but with the two of you, not a minute of quiet.”
21
“How’d she take it this time?” Ian flopped onto Tripp’s couch.
“Not well, as usual. I expect I’ll get a visit from Isabelle in the next few days, or maybe hours—hell, minutes perhaps.” Tripp pulled clothes from his closet, adding them to the stacks and boxes he’d accumulated over the hour he worked. “Unless it clicks in that head of hers and she runs to Daddy with the news that
she
broke it off with me.”
“You going to box up your entire place today?” Ian stood again, leaned his hip on the bar.
“Just the stuff to give away. The electronics can be shipped, furniture stored until Missy comes up with a plan and my personal things get sent.”
“Sounds like you’re dying, not moving.” Ian huffed a breath. “Michael might like some of this. He’s always saying you have the best clothes, for a guy that is.
Tripp chuckled. “Anything in the boxes he can take—the entire box if he wants. You, too.”
Ian held up his hands. “Not me. I have a place full of crap already. But I’ll bring him up.”
“You’ve got a key, so whenever. Just don’t take stuff that’s not in a box.”
“When you planning to go back?”
“As soon as we’re done replacing the portrait.”
Ian scrubbed a hand over his head. “Yeah, well, on that.”
Tripp cocked his head at his friend. “What about it?”
“I spent the entire morning, and some time last night, looking into the location of the original painting.”
“Sloan’s house, right?”
“Well, no. According to one of his housekeepers, that painting doesn’t exist in his house in any form.”
“One of his buildings, then?”
Ian shook his head. “If the buyer has a fake and Jack has the original, he’s not going to hang it—not even a good replica. He’s got it tucked away somewhere, probably stored until after the wedding to make sure you do what he wants.”
“Well, shit. Now we need the location of the real one
and
the fake.”
“Exactly. You stepped right into his trap.” Ian’s cell buzzed, reminding Tripp about his message.
He pressed for voice mail, while Ian attended to his call, and noted two messages.
Missy’s came first. “Thanks for breakfast, bro. I’m on my way out with loads of sketches. Cannot wait to show you. Something by Friday. Just tell me if you don’t want me to send them to the chickie down south. I suspect not. Chat at ya later.”
Tripp smiled at his sister’s voice, forwarded to the next.
“Mr. Fox, this is Carol Rhodes from Sliver in Savannah.” Her drawl brought sounds of the south to Tripp. “I’ve got a design for you. I’ll send you a quick photo via text, but if you don’t receive it, just give me a call back. If you love it, and I think you will, call me, and we’ll negotiate.”
Tripp switched to his texts, saw the ‘3’, which indicated the number of new messages. The image of a diamond, with two small sapphires on either side, set in a white gold he expected would be Platinum, stared back at him. In the second photo, the angle showed she added small points of silver, or some other metal, so when turned, it resembled their star.
“Wow,” Ian said from over Tripp’s shoulder.
He shut the phone down, pocketing it.
“You having something made for the southern belle?”
“None of your business.”
Ian held his hands up. “Not sayin’ a thing, except, well … fucking congratulations.” Ian forced Tripp into a man-hug with a pat on the back.
Tripp couldn’t help the smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Okay … back to our regularly scheduled program. That was one of my contacts. I’ve had to put feelers out everywhere on this.”
“And?”
Ian hedged by way of a foot against the wall and a slap to the surface. “Jill just showed up at Daddy’s office with ‘the look of a devil’, apparently.”
“What exactly does that look like?”
“Not sure, but if someone described Lexi that way, I’d run.”
They both turned at a knock on the door.
“Well, I think our unfriendly neighborhood stalker has arrived.” Tripp made his way to the door. “Come on in, Isabelle.”
“You were expecting me?”
“Of course.”
She waltzed in with an air of superiority, knowledge and confidence. “Seems you’ve been a bad, bad boy.”
“I wouldn’t say so.” Tripp eyed Ian over her shoulder as she craned her neck walking around and through the apartment.
“Mr. Sloan disagrees. His daughter has decided she doesn’t want you to marry her because, as she claims, you’re a cheat.”
“He is n—” Ian started but Tripp stopped him with a hand in the air.
“So, anyway.” Isabelle crossed her arms. “This doesn’t negate our prior agreement. Miss Sloan made quite the arrangements for this upcoming wedding, which is now not going to happen.”
Tripp held in his groan while Ian’s eyes rolled back into his head and mimed a noose around his neck.
“He’ll accept compensation for all said paid-for activities … with interest.”
“How much?”
“Five million with a ten percent up charge per week.”
“Are you shitting me?” Ian’s chest heaved.
“I don’t make jokes, Mr. Sands.” Isabelle strolled to the window and back.
Tripp waved Ian back. “This is blackmail.”
“Oh, no, this is what we in the industry call creative payback. Of course, you could change your mind. You do still have until Friday, and Mr. Sloan’s word, at least, is quite binding.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
She shrugged. “Well, then, I will give you an account into which to transfer the funds.”
“And if I don’t?”
The corners of her mouth curved up in a sneer. “I’m sure you already know what comes next.” She mimed the closing of cell doors.
“I’ll be in touch,” Tripp said.
“I’ll tell him.” Isabelle stepped back. “Oh, and in the meantime, watch your back or, well, your arm.”
Tripp waved her toward the door. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re busy here.”
“Did she just say what I think she said?” Ian asked as the door shut behind Isabelle and her entourage.
“Guess we’ve been enlightened as to who’s behind this.” Tripp pointed to his shoulder.
Ian shook his head in a motion of disbelief Tripp recognized well. “You are not going to pay that man.” Ian punched the top of the bar. “Especially not after that.”
“No, I’m not. And now he’s fucking with me. Time to turn the tables.”
• • •
The couple across from Lexi sat together, their hands entwined as they gushed over what they’d heard about her, how great an agent she had been for friends and how they just couldn’t work with anyone else. As they talked, she tuned them out, bringing to mind passages from Marge’s journal instead.
Who are Mara’s real parents?
Did Marge really steal her?
If Tripp and I use our gifts to earn money, why didn’t George and Marge? Or did they?
Did Mara know she was a stolen baby or learn about it at some point?
Is she still alive?
“Lexi?” Emma stood at the door, an envelope in hand.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry to interrupt, folks,” Emma said. “I need you for just a minute.”
Lexi excused herself, flipping her notes over while the two chatted with each other.
Emma tugged her to their small break room. “Did you need saving? I can hear them going on and on.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, well, this came via courier, and … I think you should take a look.”
With a tentative tug, Lexi took the envelope. “What is it?”
“Just open it, but keep your emotions in check.”
Keeping an eye on Emma, Lexi released the clasp. “Who’s it from?”
“The courier didn’t say.”
From within the yellow rectangle, half a dozen black and white photographs fell. Lexi shuffled through them. The first … Tripp at the beach with her. The second … him with Jill somewhere she didn’t recognize. Another of him, unconscious at his car after he’d been shot. She scanned the rest—a complement of photographs of their time together, with the last of him walking into a building in what she presumed to be New York.
“What the hell is this?”
“I don’t know,” Emma said.
Lexi reached for her cell. Realizing she’d stuck it in her bag, she went through each photograph again. “Did it come with a note? A letter? Anything?”
Emma shook her head.
“What’s this supposed to tell me? He’s been followed?”
“Wouldn’t that be impossible? I mean, how can anyone catch him like this?”
“He wasn’t doing anything worthy of putting up his guard. Everything I do with my gift is deliberate, so I don’t worry about someone seeing me. Tripp, though, treads along more dangerous ground. He’s got a presence, and people watch him. Unless he needs to keep himself under wraps, he doesn’t.”
“Otherwise, he’d be invisible all the time?”
“Exactly. When he’s not playing the game, so to speak, he’s a target just like anyone else. And I’m sure his reputation precedes him.”
“So why has someone been watching him? And why send the photos to you?”
“I have an idea why.” Lexi’s irritation buzzed through her body. “Can you finish up with these guys? They’ll want the White’s house on Devin Street.” She needed time alone and a wall or other punchable object.
“Yeah, sure. What’re you going to do?”
“I’ve got a phone call to make. When you finish with those two in my office, come find me.”
• • •
Tripp’s cell vibrated against his thigh. He smiled at the caller ID before saying “Hey, gorgeous.”
“What the hell is going on?”
He staggered back at her response.
“I got an envelope in the mail today with photographs of you, you and me, you and Jill, and even one of you half dead from the bullet you got at the beach.”
“What the fuck?” He ran a hand over his head. “Who’d they come from? No, wait, don’t answer.” He motioned for Ian to come closer. “Hang on a sec, Lexi, I’m putting you on speaker.” With a hand over the mouthpiece, he said, “She’s a little pissed,” and pressed the button. “Okay, Lexi, you’re on. I think I know where those came from and why.”
“Going to enlighten me? Especially given I’m in a couple of them?”
Ian’s head managed half a shake. “Maybe if we team up on this, it would be better.”
“Team up on what?” Lexi asked.
“How about you come to New York tomorrow? Think you could? I mean, Emma can handle the office, right?” Tripp asked.
“She could, but if I go to New York, she’ll want to come, and that’s totally fine by me. What’s not fine is you not telling me what’s going on.”
Ian gave him a go-ahead wave.
“Jill’s father gave me a marriage ultimatum—”
“Like marry my daughter, or I’ll shoot you with my shotgun? I thought stuff like that only happened here in the south.”
“Something like it. Anyway, my plan was to get her to finally acknowledge our relationship was over by kicking me to the curb. That … I managed—”
“You said you were already disengaged, Tripp.”
He cringed. “Like I said before, she doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I worked it today so she would make the decision for us.”
“How?”
Tripp looked to Ian who opened his eyes wide. “Does it matter?”
Lexi remained silent.
Shit.
Tripp ran a hand through his hair. “I told her I found someone else, but she doesn’t know it’s you.”
Even though her father clearly does.
“Then why did these pictures show up at my office?”
“Okay, so maybe someone knows—”
“Someone being her father?”
Ian mouthed ‘admit’.
Tripp opted to hedge. “Probably.”
“And how much do they understand … about me?”
“None.” He didn’t even hesitate. “I never explained my gift to Jill. Her father only knows I can extricate shit. I only did one job for him.”
“Why the photos, then? Why send them to me?”
“I got the ultimatum in Savannah, before you were attacked. I’m guessing this was a backup plan.” Tripp looked to Ian again, got yet another go ahead. “But, Lexi, listen … I have a way to get around all of this. I want to undo what I did and—”
“Let me guess, to undo, you must re-find, and you haven’t a clue as to the location of whatever it is.”
Tripp smiled at Ian, who gave him the thumbs up. “Sort of. Multiple copies exist. We need to find the original.”
“A sculpture, then? A painting?”
“Yes. Do you think you can handle it when there are more than one of the same?”
“Are you asking for my help?” Her tone had softened since he’d first answered his phone.
“Yes, Lexi, I am. It’s the only way to get him off my back. If I can make this happen, we’ll be set.”
“You may be. Send a photo of the objective in question. Via email, please.” She clicked off.
Tripp held the phone out like a piece of hot volcanic rock.
“Whoa,” Ian said. “That did not go as well as I expected.”
• • •
Lexi sat against her headboard, a printed copy of the painting in hand. She closed her eyes as the late afternoon sun warmed her room—in the house she owned and shared with Emma. Both were her constants.
A sigh broke through as thoughts of Tripp invaded her mind—a man who tempted her to break her moral code. From the moment they met, he’d forced her outside her comfort zone.
Her cell vibrated again.
Calls, messages and texts had arrived since their earlier discussion, but Lexi ignored them all in favor of a good sulk.
The window with the orange light called her to dance within it, to twirl like a small child, not sit mired in her own self-pity, wishing her life could go back to the simplicity it once held.
The front door to the house opened and slammed shut, and Emma appeared in the middle of the doorframe, where she leaned into the wood and narrowed her eyes. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Emma’s I-don’t-believe-you face, complete with scowl, popped right onto her features. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Lexi breathed a laugh. “Tripp says the same thing about me.” She faked a smile.
“Going to tell me about the phone call or calls?”
“He wants me to find a painting he stole, so he can steal it back.”