by Janice Olson
Serenity’s Deception
Serenity’s Deception
Janice Olson
Lyndon Publishing
Texas Sorority Sisters
Book 1
Serenity’s Deception
Janice Olson
Lyndon Publishing
Serenity’s Deception
Copyright © 2012 by Janice Olson
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Lyndon Publishing
2200 S. Smith Berry Rd., Suite 200
Pantego, Texas 76013
Website: www.LyndonPublishing.com
ISBN: 978-0-9764915-1-4
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
For more information about Janice Olson, please access the author’s Website at: www.JaniceOlson.com, or email her at [email protected].
Cover image, original photograph manipulated © and owned by Lyndon Publishing, all rights reserved.
Lyndon Publishing Mission Statement:
To the best of our ability, publish and distribute inspirational products that offer exceptional value and Biblical encouragement to the world while honoring God.
Acknowledgements
I give thanks to God that He placed stories upon my heart when I felt unworthy of the task.
And where would I be without my loving husband Harry. He is always my faithful cheering partner, encouraging me to think beyond my limitations, bolstering my confidence, and advising me to lean upon the abilities God has placed within me.
Thank you, Love, for doing without and allowing me to use that time to write. Your labor of love has enabled me to meet my deadlines and made my dream a possibility, thank you again. You’re a king among men.
And where would I be without all my wonderful critique partners who meet in my house weekly. You keep me sane, sharpen my mind, and help me laugh instead of cry. You women are terrific. Thanks for your loving support.
My desire for you, my reader, is that you will find contentment, dare to hope, and learn to forgive as you read BJ’s story in Serenity’s Deception.
Blessings,
Janice Olson
Chapter 1
You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded
in your book. Every moment was laid out before
a single day has passed. Psalm 139:16 NLT
Tentacles of apprehension wrapped around BJ Spencer as she climbed the dimly-lit, narrow stairwell. The musty scent of the old building filled the restricted passageway as each stair-tread creaked beneath her feet. A premonition that nothing good would come from this meeting gave her the overwhelming desire to turn around and head back to Galveston.
Not one for running, BJ clenched her purse strap tighter and trudged up to the second floor landing. A whiff of Old English Lemon Oil hung in the air and assailed her senses with images of Heritage House. For fourteen years she had done her best to suppress the memories of her lonely upbringing, but today the recollection of her austere childhood refused to stay buried.
Forlorn children entering.
Excited children leaving.
Always watching.
Never chosen.
BJ shoved the pictures to the back of her mind. A small poignant smile pulled at her lips. One thing for certain, her arrival today would stir up questions with the old gossips around town.
With no desire to return to Serenity, Texas, she’d fought hard to disregard the letter she received five days earlier. An urgent matter regarding Heritage House made her nagging curiosity difficult to ignore the summons. Regardless how many reasons she could think up for staying away, there were many more for why she needed to leave her safe haven and come.
BJ hesitated in front of the diffused glass and mahogany door emblazoned with gold lettering—Hampton, Hampton, & Rigger, Attorneys at Law. Though the law firm occupied this same building before the town’s incorporation, she’d never had a reason to enter the law firm before today.
She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. With a slight tremble in her hand, she turned the glass doorknob, making sure to conceal her misgivings. Entering the office caused long forgotten insecurities to come rushing back, punching holes in her well-fortified wall of defense.
A woman with short salt-and-pepper hair sat behind a desk, her eyes intent on the computer screen. She glanced over the top of the tortoise-rimmed frames and subjected BJ to a thorough inspection from head to toe.
“Ms. Spencer, I presume?” Her voice held a twinge of superiority. Her face, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, held a hint of inquisitiveness.
“Yes. I’m here to—”
“To see Mr. Hampton, of course.” The woman arched a brow. “He’s been expecting you.”
Her clipped words and the haughty lift of her chin left BJ a little stunned. Apparently, for this woman, old prejudices were hard to overcome. Not having experienced this type of deep-seated bias since leaving Serenity, BJ wondered if she could expect the same from Mr. Hampton.
The woman’s pale, nondescript eyes looked pointedly at the old Thomas calendar clock on the wall. “Take a seat. I’ll tell Mr. Hampton you’re here.”
Giving vent to her obstinate nature, BJ ambled around the antique-filled reception area. She ran her hand along the smooth edge of the beautifully crafted oak and glass front barrister bookcases full of old law books. Again suppressed memories flooded her mind of Heritage House. How many times had she polished the antiques while living there? Too many. She lowered her hand to her side, willing the images to recede to their dark vault.
Why was she summoned here? BJ worried her bottom lip with her teeth then just as quickly stopped.
She gazed above the credenza at the gilded framed painting of Seth Loveless, the town’s founder. Legend held in the 1800’s Seth sent off to Boston for the best lawyer money could buy and one who would see eye-to-eye with his way of thinking. That’s when the first Hampton, of a long line of Hamptons, came to Texas to make his fortune and to represent Seth Loveless in all matters legal and some … not so legal.
“Ms. Spencer?” A tall man wearing a navy, pin-striped suit which accentuating his thin reed-like body entered the room walking toward her, hand extended. Hair, the color of fresh snow, fluttered softly in the stir of air as he moved toward her.
BJ inclined her head. Her fingers were grasped by cold, thin-skinned hands. His astonishingly strong grip belied his frail appearance. In many ways, the man reminded her of Einstein with deep, etched lines and a slight stoop of his shoulders, but all resemblance stopped there. If she’d been a betting person, she would’ve waged his astute, grey eyes never missed a thing.
He offered a smile that never quite registered in his eyes. “I’m Horace T. Hampton, the third. I’m glad you’ve come. Shall we?” He motion toward an open door to the right of the desk where the secretary sat with watchful eyes.
Inside, an oval conference table surrounded by chairs filled the dark-paneled room. The one light fixture overhead and the two open draped windows facing Main Street, gave just enough light to keep the room from being oppressive.
“Ms. Carter, I’m not to be disturbed.” The lawyer shot the words over his shoulder without looking at the woman. “When Jason arrives, tell him to come straight in.”
The name caused a slight hes
itation in BJ’s step. What a twist of fate if Jason was her Jace O’Connell. But surely, it wouldn’t be. What would be the odds?
“Please, be seated.”
She took the chair indicated. Horace T. moved around to the opposite side and sat across from her, four feet of dark oak separating them. A thick stack of files sat on the table in front of him, along with a pen, legal pad, and a pitcher of water surrounded by three glasses. A document sitting on top of the files caught BJ’s attention. Even though the type was upside down, the large centered script wasn’t difficult to read.
The Last Will and Testament of Madelyne Rose O’Connell Loveless.
The O’Connell name struck home and resulted in a painful jab. Had Mrs. Loveless been related to Jace? She couldn’t remember. But being all of seventeen when she left Serenity, BJ was too young to pay attention to family connections. Back then, things like relatives didn’t matter much, at least not to her. She’d never known who her parents were.
Unlike most people, she knew nothing of her family history except she’d been born in Maine. How she got to Texas two months later was anyone’s guess.
End of story. End of family tree.
The door to the conference room swung open banged against the stopper coming to rest against a snake-skinned boot. A tall man, holding a buckskin-colored hat, stood just inside the doorway.
BJ’s breath hitched then stopped altogether until her starved lungs screamed for air.
A scowl rode deep over his pinched brows. His cold, blue-eyed stare pinned BJ with unspoken accusations. And if she were any judge … hate.
All uncertainty to the man’s identity was blasted to smithereens by the unruly, sandy lock of hair falling over the scar above his left eye. The same scar she had accidently given him as a child. His Irish good looks, rugged and bronzed by the sun, could still sabotage her heart.
Without a doubt, the man shooting the thunderous gaze in her direction was a mature, rigid-looking Jace—and once upon a time, her own Jason O’Connell.
Chapter 2
Cool, dark, and out of sight, the shadowed alley served his purpose and held a perfect view of BJ Spencer’s Jeep as well as the law offices across the way. He leaned against the hard brick wall of Shepherd’s Drugs & Emporium, his bad shoulder, stiff and aching.
Only a select few knew his real name. To most, he was known simply as The Facilitator. The name fit and he’d been using it for years. Whenever a job required discretion and no room for failure, they called the best … him.
First and foremost, he took pride in his work. His relentless vigilance always paid off, as it had today. She’d been inside now for at least ten minutes. He allowed a smile to creep slowly across his face as he pushed away from the wall. Time to move.
Earlier, he knew she hadn’t been aware he watched from the alley when her black Jeep swung into the parking space in front of Hampton’s. Nor did she know his eyes continued to follow her every move—the car door opening, her sandaled foot on the chrome bar, a full view of her well-shaped body as she hopped down from the Wrangler to the blacktop.
His laugh hovered close to the surface when she clicked the keypad to lock the door. Security measures were the least of his worries.
When she slung the purse strap over her shoulder he noticed a slight hesitation before entering the building. She took a cautious look up and down the street, even a penetrating glance at the alley.
A careful sort.
He smiled. He liked her. This one would present a challenge, which suited him.
Pleasantly surprised that she’d turned out to be a looker, he figured his job wouldn’t be half bad. Her image flicked across his mind. He’d taken great pleasure observing the waves of long, silken hair sway with the fluid movements of her shapely black-clad hips. The vision of soft flaxen curls weaving through his fingers, gathering and lifting, breathing in her sweetness caused his body to react as the vision lingered.
Pure, plain, and simple, the woman had the same effect on him as a good swift kill.
What a shame. Normally, he enjoyed his job. But she was a might too pretty. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t scare easily, and he’d get a chance to know her just a little better. Perhaps have a little fun before he finished the job.
His hand fingered the hair trigger on the switchblade resting in his pocket. He pulled out the knife and pressed the button. Quicker than a blink, six inches of razor-sharp steel dangled below his curled fingers. He grinned as he felt the rush of excitement.
Better than a cold beer on a hot sunny day.
Chapter 3
Facing Jace across a conference table wasn’t exactly how BJ envisioned meeting him again after leaving town. If only she’d listened to her first instincts to throw the letter into the trash and ignore this meeting altogether, she wouldn’t be here in uncharted territory facing who knows what.
“Excellent. You’re here.” Mr. Hampton stood, moved toward Jace, extending his hand.
The lawyer’s voice broke the silent spell Jason held over BJ. In its place, insecurities rushed in. She gave herself a good mind-thrashing for allowing this irritatingly, handsome man to dredge up past regrets and reduce her to a mindless idiot.
Jace accepted the lawyer’s brief handshake, and then gazed about the room, this time skimming over BJ as though she were a fixture.
“Have a seat, Jason.” Horace T. motioned to a chair at the end of the table. “We haven’t begun yet, so you haven’t missed a thing. You know Ms. Spencer?”
“I used to.” He gave a perfunctory nod somewhere in her vicinity.
Jace’s choice of greeting offended. BJ decided with his cold reception she’d follow Horace T.’s example. She wouldn’t use his nickname. Jace had been a friend. This man in front of her was a complete stranger. “Nice to see you again, Jason.”
They may not have spoken since the day she’d left town, but they had been friends. No. More than friends.
Evidently, unlike hers, his recollection of their past left a bitter taste. There were a few bad remembrances of her own if she wished to dig them up from their burial place, which she didn’t. The pleasant embers of her memories turned cold, yet she displayed a warm smile to hide the hurt.
He strolled toward her, the golden replica of a longhorn shimmered from his silver belt buckle. Jason was all spit and polish—starched, button-down white shirt, ironed and creased dark-blue jeans, highly polished boots. He wasn’t your typical cowboy and his clothes were definitely not the general store variety. Not a whole lot different than how she remembered him. However, back then, BJ could never measure up to his parents’ expectations. But to Jason it never mattered.
Her eyes wandered to his left hand ring finger. He wore no wedding band.
Now why would I care to look?
Instead of taking the chair indicated, he sat one seat away from BJ, shoving back from the table. He held an advantage. Jason could easily watch her, but she couldn’t see him without turning in his direction. The knowledge chafed. To be in such a vulnerable position, maddening.
Taking a silent, calming breath, she turned her attention on the lawyer. Never one for tiptoeing or inching her way into a cold stream or a cool situation, as soon as the attorney was seated, BJ plunged in.
“Mr. Hampton, I would like to know what exactly does Ms. Madelyne’s death and Heritage House have to do with me?” She bit her tongue to keep from asking, and why is Jason here?
Horace T. shifted the papers in front of him in a rough manner. “I’ll give you the answers in a moment if you’ll be patient.” His voice held a cold edge which BJ resented. But when he gave her a look of irritation she held barely back her temper. Apparently, he didn’t like being questioned by a woman and wasn’t about to divulge anything before he was good and ready.
“I agree. What are we doing here, Hampton? I thought my aunt’s will was straight forward.”
Though the deep voice was familiar to BJ, the sound had lost its innocence. She’d never heard the hard, cynic
al edge before. But even that didn’t stop an inward quiver from doing a number up her spine as she worked to keep the deep-rooted memories tucked where they belonged. Surprised to find Jason didn’t know any more about why they were here than she did, BJ was apprehensive to what was about to take place.
The lawyer cleared his throat, folded his hands on the table, and glanced over at BJ. “I’ll start first with the reading of Mrs. Loveless’ will. When I’m through you will have all the answers to your questions.” Horace T. lifted the document and began to drone on.
Maintaining focus was hard due to Jason’s close proximity. She became aware of his slightest movements—his fingers tapping the leather armrest with impatience, his booted-ankle coming to rest on his knee, that same foot anxiously bouncing up and down.
BJ did her best to listen to Horace T. and ignore the distracting hint of Jason’s spicy cologne. The lawyer mentioned several bequests to individuals BJ knew from her past at Heritage House, and some she didn’t.
As a small child growing up in Heritage House, BJ had been taught that her very existence came from Ms. Madelyne’s benevolence. Not only the owner of the orphanage, she was also the last known heir to a vast fortune built by the founder of Serenity, Texas, Seth Loveless.
When Horace T. reached divided between Billy Jo Spencer and Jason Lynn O’Connell … BJ couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath nor the word, what?
The booted foot resting on Jason’s knee smacked the floor. He leapt from the chair, palms on the table, arms bracing his body as he leaned in dangerously close to Horace T.’s face.
“What in Sam-Hill is going on?” He swung around, eyes glaring straight at BJ pinning her to the chair. “Did you know about this?”