Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) (17 page)

Declan chuckles softly as he interjects, “Yeah, I kind of learned the hard way that for every good thing that happens in your life, there’s always a downside. You have to remember that when you’re dealing with the down side not to forget that there is a good side.”

Declan’s advice is as random as hell, but it’s not incorrect. Even though Shelby’s presence in our little home has been fraught with all sorts of complications, Ketki and I have never been happier.

“Just once, I’d like all the stuff we have to deal with to be not quite so complicated,” I complain with a heavy sigh.

“As Jessie’s grandfather once told me, it’s the complications that make life worth it — otherwise we’d be bored to tears.”

“Cancer and breaking my daughter’s heart both suck big time. Given my choice, I’d settle for boring,” I reply, settling back in the booth.

This is the first time I’ve actually been inside the offices of Identity Bank, but the operation looks incredibly impressive.

“Hey, I’m sorry for having to call you into a meeting here, but I’ve got some new equipment being delivered today and I need to be on hand when it arrives,” Tristan says as he looks up from his big executive desk.
 

It’s weird for me to see him in this environment — usually I see him in a collegiate sweatshirt and torn jeans. I forget that he is a corporate entity all on his own. Today, he looks every bit like a Fortune Rising 100 executive he is. “It’s not a problem. I’ve got some free time before I’m scheduled to give a deposition anyway and it’s just up the street. I find if I get too wound up over them, I start to ask stupid questions. Speaking of stupid questions, why am I here?” I ask.

“You and I had an informal discussion a while back about Shelby’s family. How serious are you about following up on that?”

“It depends. Is it going to hurt Shel?” I ask, my head spinning with the ramifications.

“I don’t know, like I said before, it’s hard to predict how these things are going to go. This would be limited exposure, because the only person I have located so far, is her sister, Savannah.”

“Really? Where does she live? What does she do?” I rattle off questions as fast as they hit the top of my brain.

One eyebrow hitches up as Tristan answers, “Easy there, Counselor. Last I checked, I’m not a hostile witness.”

I force myself to ease back in my chair as I wait for him to answer my questions. “You’re right. I guess I’m just anxious to bring Shelby some good news for a change.”

“I understand,” Tristan allows. “I met my wife on one of these reunions. I know they can be emotional. We almost missed this one altogether because of an interesting little coincidence that threw our search engines off. It’s a good thing I’ve got practicum students who go through each search and confirm the results by hand.”

I lean forward in my chair as I warn, “Macklin, I’m a patient man, but I’m not that patient.”

“Okay, moving on…” Tristan continues, chuckling.

He pulls a file from the pile in front of him and starts to leaf through some of the papers as he says to himself, “I just can’t get over the city name. One, Savannah Georgina Lyons, is currently residing in Savannah, Georgia. All appearances are that Savannah was born to Nancy and George Lyons on February 23, 1983.”

An involuntary chill goes up the back of my spine as I realize we are ridiculously close to the point of no return, and Shelby doesn’t even realize that I’ve begun the journey. Tristan removes a piece of paper from the file and hands it to me. “I can see what you mean about the formatting. That’s a good catch. I wonder if she chose her location for subterfuge?” I ponder.
 

“That idea occurred to us at Identity Bank as well. Yet, everything else that she does on a daily basis is far out in the open. She runs a little paint-yourself-a-work-of-art shop in a pretty trendy neighborhood. Unlike her parents, she doesn’t seem to exactly be living in hiding.”

“I wish I could stick her in a jury box and ask her some
voir dire
questions —” I muse.

Tristan laughs at my suggestion but offers one of his own, “Listen, I’ve learned the hard way that these transitions seem to go better if I’m around to answer questions in person. I’m going to drive up to Savannah to meet with her tomorrow. Do you want to ride along so you can get some eyeballs on her to make yourself feel better? Just to be clear, I’m not giving you permission to give her an interrogation or put her under oath. I just thought you might want to see how her demeanor strikes you.”

I pull out my phone and check my appointments. “I have an eight thirty appointment tomorrow for twenty minutes. This guy is a bit of a talker, so it might be thirty. I’m free after that. Savannah’s what… four hours away?”

“About that, give or take depending on traffic. Oh, Littleson — don’t be a dick. It tends to work better if you’re not.”

The neighborhood where Paint Your Art Out is located is really similar to the vibe where Ink’d Deep and Frannie’s are in Gainesville. It’s a mix of cool, new and retro. I did a contract negotiation on a start-up where they specialized in creating memory books. I remember being astonished by the sheer number of customers who participated in that kind of activity.
Shelby’s sister must be doing pretty well to be able to afford rent in this neighborhood
I think to myself as Tristan and I head through the front door.

A tall, graceful woman with a riotous head of reddish, blond curls, wearing a brightly colored apron greets us with a wide smile. “Hello, welcome to Paint Your Art Out. How can I help you this morning?”

People often claim that I’m a little intimidating, so I make a conscious effort to be pleasant. “Good morning. Cool place you have here,” I comment, looking around.

As soon as I speak, the smile slides off of Savannah’s face. She sighs as she turns on her heel. “I was hoping for actual customers today, but I’ll get you copies of the paperwork,” she remarks over her shoulder as she starts to leave the room.

“Ma’am, why
do
you think we’re here?” Tristan inquires.

Savannah’s eyes roll so hard I half expect them to make a noise like a one armed bandit at a casino.

“I was suspicious before, but with a question like that, now I’m positive that you’re not here to be craftsy. If I were to venture a guess, I would say you,” she says pointing at Tristan, “are some sort of law enforcement.” She swings her finger toward me and remarks, “You’re a little harder to figure out. I can’t decide if you’re here to sell me legal insurance or if you’re actually one of the ambulance-chasers yourself.”

Tristan lets out a low whistle of admiration. “I am impressed. I could use you on my team.”

“Team of what?” Savannah asks suspiciously. “I’m sorry to say, but you guys don’t look like any of the building inspectors who have come around lately.”

I flash her a tight grin as I respond, “That’s because we’re not.”

Tristan steps forward and hands Savannah a business card. “Ma’am, I’m here on a bit of personal mission today. It’s even more personal for Mr. Littleson here. However, if you don’t want him present, I understand that as well and he can go, if you would prefer.”

Savannah takes a moment to scrutinize the business card. She looks up at Tristan and says, “Wait a minute.
Identity Bank
. You guys were on the news about that huge cat-fishing story. I’m not involved in any cat fishing. Aren’t you like filthy rich and worth more money than Mark Cuban? I thought I read somewhere that you asked your girlfriend to marry you by kidnapping her on a plane?”

“That is my company. I am Tristan Macklin. I did ask my wife, Rogue, to marry me on a trip to Paris although the details can get a little twisted depending on who’s telling it,” Tristan confirms.

“Umm… I don’t know what you’re doing with my little company. All my paperwork is in order. That’s what I was trying to tell you when you first came in,” Savannah explains. Her anxiety level seems to be climbing with every word.

Tristan’s voice drops as he attempts to clarify again, “Hunting down identity thieves is not the only thing my company does. We also do adoption reunificat —”

Tristan doesn’t even get the whole word out of his mouth before Savannah gasps and holds a trembling hand over her mouth. “You mean you’re here about Shel?”
 

Tristan and I nodded carefully as Savannah peaks around us to find Shelby.

“Well, where is she?” Savannah demands. “I want to see my baby sister. I don’t understand.”
 

“Ma’am if you’ll let me —” Tristan tries to redirect.

Savannah starts to pace before she comes to a dead stop and slumps against a wall. “Please don’t,
oh
please don’t
tell me another one is dead,” she pleads with alarm. “I tried to tell them I was old enough to take Shelby, but they just wouldn’t listen to me,” Savannah half-mutters as she aimlessly walks in a circle around the store.

I catch Tristan’s line of sight over Savannah’s head and we seem to develop a plan of action without speaking. Since I’m closest to Savannah, I guide her toward some couches in the back of the store while Tristan locks the front door and hangs up the closed sign. Once I find the refrigerator and retrieve some cold water, Savannah objects. “It’s been a really slow month. I can’t afford to close.”

“This is entirely my fault. I should’ve timed things better. Sell me whatever equals double your daily sales. In fact, I might just buy enough to put some inventory in the Elliott Houses we are opening here and in Kansas,” Tristan pledges.
 

Savannah narrows her gaze as she looks sideways at Tristan, “I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but I don’t need your charity. Usually my store does pretty well. The weather’s been really strange and people haven’t been coming out — but usually I do okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Look, it’s my screw-up and I don’t want to cost you a day’s business—just think of me as a regular customer on a bigger scale,” Tristan argues.

Finally, Savannah slumps against the back of the couch as she says, “Fine, your money is as green as the next person’s. I’m not in any position to turn away cash at this point. Besides, we have more important things to talk about.”

I nod as I reply, “We do.”

“Why do you all look as if you’re about to march in front of a firing squad when you talk about her? What the hell is going on? Did she turn into a serial killer or something?”

I laugh at the absurdity of the thought before I respond, “No, nothing could be further from the truth. Your sister is phenomenal. My daughter absolutely loves her and I’m not far behind. Her kind spirit and generosity is one of the first things that grabbed my attention about her,” I gush.

“That’s nice, but there’s something you’re not telling me —” Savannah intuitively guesses.

I try to find the words to coherently answer her question, but inexplicably even though I make my living with words, I can’t seem to find them at the moment. Tristan seems to sense my dilemma as he solemnly looks at Savannah and proceeds to break her heart, one word at a time.

“REMIND ME WHY I’M DOING this again for you? I graduated from college. I was supposed to be done with term papers, remember?” I grouse as I help Rogue format her bibliography.