The Liar

22

She met Emma Kate at the park so she could let Callie and Jackson play.

“Doc gave me an hour, bless his heart. He knew how much I wanted to talk to you. Look!”

Emma Kate shot out her hand, and the princess-cut diamond winked in the sun.

“It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”

“He got channel set—see how it’s set in some, instead of poking out?”

“Yes. I just love it, Emma Kate.”

“He said he did that so I wouldn’t get it caught on things, working with patients. I love that he thought of that. And he got my exact size, too. He made a template from one of my rings—that was Griff’s idea.”

“I got a little of that when I told Griff after I got your text. He never gave me the tiniest hint that he’d gone with Matt to buy you a ring.”

“Matt says Griff’s a vault when you ask him to be.”

“I want to hear all of it. Oops, wait.” She hurried over to Jackson, who’d taken a little spill. After she brushed him off, kissed his knee, she dug out one of the trucks in her bag so he could roll it around in the sandbox.

“He’ll do all right for a while. Callie likes to boss him around some, but that’s the way it is when you’re the oldest.”

“We talked about kids, having them. We want to wait a little, but in another year or two . . . God, married, kids.” Laughing, she pressed both hands to her heart, bumped her shoulders up and down. “I can’t believe it.”

“You want it.”

“With Matt, I do. Yesterday he texted me how he had to work a little late, but he’d stop and get dinner to bring home. He brought wine, too, and flowers. I guess I should’ve known something was coming, but it was just nice not having to think about either of us cooking anything, and having a nice bottle of wine, and flowers on the table. I’m babbling on about needing to get into the salon, do something with my hair, and he says how I’m beautiful. How everything about me is beautiful.

“I figured he just wanted to get lucky.”

“Emma Kate.”

“It’s not like he never tells me, but it was the way. I’m thinking, I had such a long day, but it was so nice not to have to think about fixing anything, and I felt good, after a couple glasses of wine. So maybe we’d both get lucky.”

Pressing her hand to her heart again, she sighed. “That surely happened, but before . . . Before, he reached over for my hand, and he just looked at me. I swear, Shelby, we’ve been together for nearly three years now, but my heart skipped a beat. It really did, and it skipped another when he said how he loves me. How I make everything in his life make sense, and being with me, having a life with me, is all he wants.

“He actually got down on one knee.”

“That’s so sweet. Emma Kate, you got a storybook.”

“It feels like it right now, and I never expected it, and never thought I’d feel the way I did when he took out that ring.”

“Tell me what he said. How did he ask?”

“He said—he said just this: ‘Marry me, Emma Kate. Spend your life with me.’” Emma Kate’s eyes filled; her voice broke. “‘Build a life with me.’”

“Oh.” Shelby pulled out tissues for both of them. “That’s just right.”

“I know. Just right. So I said yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, I’ll spend my life with you. Yes, I’ll build a life with you. And he put the ring on, and it fit. I started crying I was so happy, like right now.”

She sighed, laid her head on Shelby’s shoulder. “I wanted to talk to you last night, but—”

“You were busy.”

“Really, really busy.”

Callie walked up, patted Emma Kate’s wet cheeks with both hands. “Happy tears?”

“Yes, they are, darling. Happy, happy tears. I’m going to marry Matt, and it makes me really happy.”

“I’m going to marry Griff.”

“Are you?”

“Uh-huh. I love him.”

“I know just how you feel.” Swaying side to side, she cuddled Callie. “Just exactly how. You know what, Callie? I think you should be my flower girl.”

Callie’s eyes popped wide. In a reverent whisper, she said, “Mama!”

Afraid she’d start tearing up again, Shelby popped Jackson and his sandy truck onto her lap. “My goodness, Callie, that’s such an honor. You’ve never been a flower girl.”

“I’ve never been a bride, so it’s perfect,” Emma Kate decided.

“Can I get a new dress and sparkly shoes?”

“We’re both going to get a new dress and sparkly shoes. And your mama, too. You’ll be my maid of honor, won’t you, Shelby?”

“You know I will.” Beyond happy, Shelby threw her arms around Emma Kate, sandwiched the kids between them. “You know I will. And I’m going to give you the best bridal shower ever seen in the entire state of Tennessee—just like we planned when we were girls. Have you picked a date?”

“If my mama had her way it would be tomorrow, or two years from tomorrow so she could fuss me into insanity while she devises a scheme to hold the wedding in the governor’s mansion, at the very least.”

“You’re her only girl.” As she was her own mother’s, Shelby thought with a pang. “A mother’s bound to be excited over her only girl’s wedding.”

“Mama was born excited. She’s already talking dresses and colors and venues and guest lists. Matt and I talked about having a small, civilized wedding in the fall, but now that Mama’s got the bit between her teeth, we’ve surrendered to a big wedding, and next April. So I’ll be a spring bride.”

“What could be prettier? Oh, let’s have an engagement party, Emma Kate. Everybody likes a party.”

“I wanna party,” Callie chimed in.

“Of course you do. You want a party, right, Jackson?”

“I get presents?”

“It’s not a party without presents.”

“Mama’s ahead of you. I couldn’t hold her to a backyard barbecue. She wants a dress-up party, so she’s already wrangling to use the hotel. I’m letting her have her way because I’m getting mine on everything else. I’m firm on it. And I’m counting on you to help me rein her in.”

“I’m your girl. How about we give y’all a push on the swings?” she asked the kids.

“I want to go high!” Callie made a beeline for the swing.

“No point in swinging unless you go high.” Shelby hefted Jackson onto her hip. “We’ll give them a push, bride-to-be, and we can talk wedding dresses.”

“One of my current favorite subjects.”

• • •

SHELBY DIDN’T TELL Emma Kate about the keys, the laptop. She wouldn’t spoil the brightness of the moment. But she gnawed on it.

Once she had the kids fed and down for a nap—say hallelujah—she sat down with her laptop. Business first, she ordered herself, meticulously paid bills, adjusted her spreadsheet, calculated how close she’d come to paying off the next credit card.

Considerable to go on that yet.

The sales from the consignment shop had started to dwindle—not unexpected—and she reminded herself just how big a hole they’d helped fill in.

And she tried not to think just how mortifying it was to know some stranger had copied all her troubles—the e-mails, the lawyer and tax correspondence, the spreadsheet, the painful chipping away at bills.

Couldn’t let it matter, she told herself. She’d think of the upside there. Poring over her personal miseries ought to tell Jimmy Harlow if she had access to millions, she wouldn’t be squeezing out nickels and dimes to pay off debt.

He’d go away, wouldn’t he? Surely he knew he risked capture and being tossed back in prison if he stayed too close.

But then, millions of dollars made a shiny incentive.

Payback made a darker one. She understood that. She’d felt that ugly tug herself over the past months.

Take action, she thought, and began to make a list.

She culled through pictures she kept in a file. Would Harlow do the same? Was he studying her years with Richard through her photographs? And why hadn’t she deleted them—those images of Richard, of the two of them, in Paris, in Trinidad, in New York and Madrid? All those places.

All those places, she thought again.

Had he taken the property he’d stolen, stashed it on those travels with her? Another bank box, an airport locker, holding onto it or selling it off a piece at a time?

She had the photographs to tell her where they’d gone, when they’d gone.

Then Atlanta, where they’d settled. Or she had, she thought now. He’d still had all those “business trips.” And she’d packed the baby up from time to time when he insisted they fly off somewhere for a holiday.

“Where did he go when I wasn’t with him?” she wondered. “And why did he take a wife and baby he had no real interest in along other times?”

She got up, walked around the kitchen, opened the door for air, walked around again.

As cover, of course. That’s all they’d ever been to him. Just another disguise. How much had he scammed or stolen on those trips with her and Callie? She could barely think of it.

But she would think of it.

She sat again, using the photographs to add to her list. Tried to put herself back in time, in those places. But God, sometimes she’d been so tired, so stressed, trying to deal with an infant in a strange place, a place where she didn’t know the language or the geography.

She pored over what she had, making notes, trying to remember people he’d introduced her to, or had her arrange cocktail parties for. Wealthy people, she thought now. But then, she’d thought they were wealthy.

Had they been marks? Had they been associates?

Likely some of both.

She jumped up when she heard footsteps and, heart pounding, swung around to pull the chef’s knife from the block.

“Shelby? Shelby Anne?”

“Mama.” On an unsteady breath, she shoved the knife back in the block, put on a smile as her mother walked in.

“There you are. Where are my babies?”

“They’re napping, after a hard day at the park. They’ll be up soon, though, probably wanting a snack.”

“I’m going to take care of that. Look here, I got new pictures when I went in to the hospital to see the baby this morning.” She took out her phone, cuddled close to Shelby as they scrolled through. “He’s just handsome as a prince. Got his daddy’s chin, you see that? I went by Clay’s and made sure everything’s as it should be, because they’re letting Gilly bring Beau home tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful. She’ll love being home with Jackson and the baby.”

“She’d walk out of there now if we’d let her, but she’s settled for tomorrow. I found the cutest stuffed hound dog and put it in Beau’s crib, got some nice fresh flowers for the bedroom for Gilly. That nursery’s as sweet as an ice cream cone. And I got two facials in at the salon. Later on I’m going to make up some spaghetti—Gilly favors my spaghetti—and get it over there so nobody has to think about dinner tomorrow.”

“You’re not just the best mama, you’re the best mama-in-law.”

“Gilly’s one of the lights of my life. Right now I’m going to spend the rest of the day with my two other grandbabies. And you go on, go on out and do something fun.”

“Mama, you’ve driven over to Gatlinburg and back I don’t know how many times the last two days, fussed over at Clay’s, and plan to cook them a meal so they don’t have to. And you went in to work.”

“That’s right.” All but sparkling with joy, Ada Mae got the pitcher of tea from the fridge. “And now I’m going to enjoy the rest of my day. Oh, I also went shopping. I got the sweetest little baby clothes for that boy. And picked up a big brother toy for Jackson, and a little something for Callie.”

“The best Gamma, too. Mama, you spoil them all.”

“I do a fine job of it.” She poured two glasses of tea over ice, snipped some mint from the pot on her windowsill. “I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so good. Nothing like a brand-new baby. And I’ve got a master suite straight out of a magazine. I swear I’d’ve slept in that big tub last night if I could. I’ve got my own baby girl and hers home with me. My chicks are happy and home, my husband still takes me on dates. I’ve got everything I could want.”

She handed Shelby a glass, kissed her cheek. “Now you go get yours.”

“Get my what?”

“Your everything. I’d start that off by asking that clever and handsome young man out on a date. Then I’d go buy myself something pretty to wear on it.”

Shelby thought of her spreadsheet. “I’ve got plenty to wear.”

“Something new now and then perks a girl up. You work hard, Shelby. I know you’ve got bills, and I know you’ve been sitting there at that computer worrying about them. I raised you to be smart and responsible, but I’m telling you—” Ada Mae fisted her hands on her hips, just as her own mother was wont to do. “Your mama’s telling you to go out and buy yourself a new dress. Something you’re buying yourself with money you earned. See if that doesn’t lift you up some. And then let Griff lift you a little more. I’m going to have Suzannah bring Chelsea over later, and those girls are having themselves a slumber party here tonight. You do the same.”

“I should have a slumber party?”

After a hooting laugh, Ada Mae drank some tea. “That’s what we’ll call it in polite company. Go on, buy a dress, go over to the salon and get prettied up, and go take Griffin’s breath away.”

“You know I love you, Mama.”

“You’d better.”

“But I don’t think I tell you often enough what a wonderful woman you are. Even beyond Mama, Mama-in-law and Gamma.”

“Now, that’s just put the sprinkles on the icing of the chocolate cupcake of my day.” She gave Shelby a squeeze.

“Let me put things away. I wasn’t just paying bills, and I’m doing all right with that, so don’t worry. I was trying to figure things out, I guess, looking at pictures of my time with Richard. Trying to remember all the places we went, and when and why.”

“You sure did travel, so that’s something you have that can’t be taken away. I loved getting postcards or letters or e-mails from you when you were in those foreign places.”

“I don’t suppose you saved any of them.”

“For heaven’s sake, of course I did. I have them all in a box.”

“Mama, you are wonderful. Can I have them? I’ll give them back to you once I’ve looked through.”

“There on the shelf in my sitting room closet. Blue box with white tulips on it. It’s labeled.”

“Thank you, Mama.” She added another squeeze. “Thank you.”

• • •

SHE DID BUY A DRESS, just a simple summer dress the color of the mint her mother added to tea. And Ada Mae was right. It gave her incredible satisfaction to know she bought the dress with money she’d earned.

It only took a couple of questions to find out where Griff was working that day, and she found both him and Matt, sweaty and stripped to the waist (oh my!), building a deck on a house just outside the town proper.

“Hey.” Griff swiped at his face with an already damp bandanna. “Don’t touch me, I’m past disgusting. In fact, you ought to stay downwind.”

“I have brothers,” she said simply, and bent to greet the happy Snickers. “Congratulations, Matt. Consider yourself hugged.”

“Thanks. Emma Kate said you guys met in the park this morning, and you’re maid of honor. Meet the best man.”

“Well, Best Man, you and I have a lot of consulting to do. Meanwhile, I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it.” Griff grabbed a jug, gulped down straight from it whatever was inside.

“Mama’s got plans for the children, and I have some . . . research I want to do. I was wondering if I could do it at your place. I’d fix you dinner as payment for the quiet spot to work.”

“Sure. I get the best of that deal. I’ve been locking up since . . . so . . .” He dug in his pocket for his keys, pulled one off the ring. “This’ll get you in.”

“I really appreciate this. Matt, the four of us are going to need to get together soon. Weddings require considerable strategy. I know Miz Bitsy’s leading the charge on the engagement party—”

“Don’t scare me when I’m working with power tools.”

“We’ll handle Miz Bitsy,” Shelby assured him. “Emma Kate and I have been planning our weddings since we were ten. Of course, what she wants now may not include a silver princess carriage pulled by six white horses.”

“Really scaring me.”

“But, I have the basics, and I can help work Miz Bitsy around.”

“Will you put that in writing?” he asked, and took the jug from Griff. “Maybe in blood. I don’t care whose blood.”

“It’s a solemn promise. But I need to hear what you want, too. I’m awful good at coordinating things.”

“Emma Kate said the same. I’m counting on you.”

“You can, so we’ll get together soon, all right?”

“How about my place, Saturday night?” Griff asked. “We’ll throw something on the grill and strategize. If you don’t want to ask your parents to watch Little Red, bring her along,” he added, anticipating. “We can always hang her in a closet, stick her in a drawer.”

“Let me work on that. I’d better get going, and let you get back to work. Pretend I gave you another hug, Matt. You’ve made my very best friend happier than I’ve ever seen her. So I’m inclined to love you a lot.”

“I’m getting married,” Matt said when Shelby left.

“That’s right, pal. Hold on a minute.” He set down the nail gun he’d just picked up, jogged after Shelby. “Hey. I didn’t get a pretend hug.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s because I’m going to give you a lot more than that later. No pretending.”

“Oh yeah?”

“On the instructions of my mama.”

“I really like your mama.”

“So do I. Bye now.”

“We’ll probably knock off around four, four-thirty,” he called out.

“I’ll be there.”

“Nice to know,” Griff said quietly, then grinned down at Snickers, who’d followed him and his boot laces. “Really nice to know.”

• • •

SHE WENT BY THE MARKET FIRST, as she’d decided on what she’d fix for dinner when she’d seen Griff at his job site.

She settled down in his kitchen, angling herself so she could see out those wonderful glass doors to the view whenever she looked up.

But once she opened her mother’s keepsake box and began reading, she didn’t look up often.

She broke to work on dinner, get it in the oven. And think.

It was odd and fascinating to see herself, to review her own perspective through the prism of time. Only a handful of years, really, but a lifetime altogether.

She could see it now, the naiveté, the nearly blank slate she’d been. Richard had seen that, too, and used it very well.

Callie had changed her—she could read that, too, in photographs and letters. What she’d written, how she’d written it, had shifted after Callie was born.

Had her mother been fooled by the bright tone of the letters, the e-mails, the quickly dashed postcards once the daughter had become a mother herself? Shelby doubted it. Even now she could hear the tinny tone under the brightness.

She’d been so unhappy so quickly, all the fierce self-confidence gradually, carefully, she saw now, wiped away. The only true happiness broke through when she wrote of Callie.

No, her mother wouldn’t have been fooled. Her mother would have seen, very well, how she’d written less and less of Richard.

But in the first year or so, there had been plenty, and minute details of where they’d traveled, the people she met, the things she saw.

She could follow herself easily from her own words, and begin to see.

She’d think a great deal more, she promised herself. She might never have the answers, but she’d found a bank box from a key in the pocket of a jacket.

So she’d think a great deal more.

She had the counter set for dinner, the wine she’d bought—she’d have to hope for good tips on Friday night—ready when she heard Griff’s truck.

She got out a beer, opened it and walked out to meet him.

He looked hot, sweaty and all but edible when he smiled over at her, leaned on his truck, tipped his sunglasses down to look at her over them while the dog ran in circles over the front lawn.

“Now, that’s what’s been missing from the front porch. A beautiful redhead with a cold beer.”

“I figured you’d be ready for one.” She walked down the steps. “I have brothers.”

“I’m more than ready for one. I’m still not touching you. May turned to August today.”

“It often does.”

“You should brace yourself for after I get a shower. How’s Callie doing?”

“About to have hot dogs on the grill for supper with her cousin and her best friend, and that’s after they were all stripped down so they could run around in the sprinkler.”

“Sprinkler sounds pretty good. Hot dogs don’t sound bad.”

“Those’ll have to wait for next time.”

“When I have a beautiful redhead with a cold beer fixing dinner, I’m not picky.”

He walked in the house with her, with the pup rushing to keep up. Griff sniffed the air. “What’s cooking? It smells great.”

“Meat loaf with baby potatoes and carrots.”

“Meat loaf?” He sniffed again. “Seriously?”

“It’s a warm day for it, but a manly meal. You looked like meat loaf for supper when I saw you today.”

“I haven’t had homemade meat loaf since the last time I was in Baltimore and sweet-talked my mother into it. Why don’t most women appreciate the loaf of meat?”

“You just answered your own question. I’m just going to go check on it.”

“I’ll grab that shower. Then brace yourself, Red.”

Amused, stirred, she went back to the stove, judged she’d timed it well. Then reconsidered.

Self-confidence, she thought. She remembered what it was like to be confident and bold.

She turned the oven down and went up the back stairs.

Griff chugged the cold beer while cool water rained blissfully down on his head. It felt like pounds of sweat and grime sliding away. It was going to be a nice deck, he thought, but he hadn’t been ready for the change in the weather.

Spring had come in so soft and benign, he’d forgotten what a hot, wet hammer summer could pound with in the Smokies.

And today had been just a quick preview of coming attractions.

Once it hit full, he and Matt would start earlier in the day, knock off earlier in the afternoon. And that would give him time to work inside on his own projects. Then there were the plans for the bar and grill once the permits came through.

Then, of course, there was Shelby. He wanted as much time as he could steal with her.

Even as he thought of her, the glass door opened.

She stood, her hair curling wildly over her shoulders, wearing nothing but a knowing smile. With her eyes on his, she took the beer out of his hand, set it on the counter behind her.

“You’re going to need both hands,” she told him.

“It’s a day of miracles,” he said, and reached for her.

“It’s cool.” Tipping her head back, she traced her fingertips up his back. “The water’s cool.”

“Too cool?”

“No, it’s nice. And this is even better.” She rose up to her toes, fixed her mouth on his. And there was nothing cool in the kiss.

He thought it a wonder the water didn’t go to steam the way she heated his blood. Instant and fierce. Every sweaty hour he’d put in that day, every restless hour of the night he’d spent wanting her, worried for her, spilled away.

Soft skin, eager mouth, greedy hands—in that moment, she gave him everything he needed.

“I’ve been wanting you since I had you.” He couldn’t take fast enough. “Going crazy just to touch you again.”

“I go crazy when you touch me. Don’t stop touching me.”

Heat and need and pleasure mixed to hammer in her heart, to shimmer under her skin. The more he gave her, the more she wanted, and reveled in her own appetite.

For him, just him, the hard hands, the tough, workingman’s body. His mouth, patient and demanding at once, made her head spin.

He hiked her up by the hips, bringing her off the shower floor. That surprising strength, the hard grip with rough-palmed hands, combined to make her feel vulnerable, desirable, powerful.

Eyes on his, she wrapped her legs around his waist, dug her fingers into his shoulders for purchase.

Then she was crying out as he plunged into her. Shocked and thrilled and quivering for the next mad thrust.

Water striking, seeming to sizzle and spark against tile. Wet flesh slipping, sliding under her hands. And her own breathless gasps.

She felt weightless, wondrous, clinging to him as he whipped them both higher. Clung still as they tumbled into the blissful dark.

“Hold on,” he managed, and groped to turn off the water. “Just hold on.”

“Mmmm. I feel like I might slide right down the drain.”

She sensed movement, stayed wrapped around him even when he dropped them both on the bed.

“I need a minute,” he told her.

“Take your time.”

“I meant to. But you were all wet and naked. I’ll get towels in a minute.”

“I bought a new dress.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, and I was going to put it on for dinner, then let you take it off me after. I didn’t take my time, either.”

The image brought on a small but definite surge of fresh energy. “Do you still have the dress?”

“Hanging in your laundry room.”

He trailed a finger down her side. “You could go with your plan, and we’ll both take our time.”

“I like that idea. What I didn’t think to bring was a hair dryer. I don’t suppose you have one.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Well, between the shower and the humidity and no hair tools, my hair’s going to be as big as the moon. I must have bands and clips in my purse.”

“I like your hair.”

She curled into him. “I like yours. I like how the sun’s starting to streak it. You’d pay good money for highlights like that at my granny’s.”

“Men who eat meat loaf don’t have highlights.”

She kissed his shoulder. “You do, and I’m getting those towels, and turning dinner back up.”

“You turned it down?”

She gave him the slow, flirtatious, under-the-lashes smile Callie often did. “I wanted you in the shower, so dinner’s going to take just a little longer than I’d planned.”

“I like that you turned it down. I’ll get the towels.”

He rose, walked back into the bathroom. “What were you researching—or was that a ploy to get me wet and naked?”

“It wasn’t a ploy, just a bonus.” She smiled, took the towel he offered. “Griffin, my hair’s like another person, and that other person also needs a towel.”

“Right.” He went in for another, and the beer she’d taken and set on the counter.

“So what were you researching?”

“Oh.” She’d wrapped the first towel around her body, and now bent from the waist to gather her hair in the second. “You don’t want to talk about that. It’s all the other things. The Richard things.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“I do.” She straightened, somehow tucking parts of the towel into the whole in a way that fascinated him. “I want to talk to somebody about it who’d have some perspective on it. I thought I’d run all of it by Forrest, maybe tomorrow, even though he’s probably thought of half of what I just thought of already, but . . .”

“Put on the new dress, and we’ll talk about it while the loaf of meat is cooking.”