They were both looking at Trey and I for our reaction.
“Truthfully, I really like it,” I said. “It does have dual appeal.”
“It works for me,” Trey replied, buttering a biscuit.
“Good, we’re glad you approve,” Tristan said, taking Gina’s hand into his and squeezing it.
Oh yeah, they're in love or very close to it.
“So, Tristan, how long will you be staying in town, this time?” Trey asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“I’ll be here until the weekend. I’ve got to meet with the health inspector, interview some chefs, and meet with a contractor about putting in the wine cellar.”
“Do you think perhaps that you could help me rearrange some stuff here at the apartment?”
What's up with that?
“Sure, no problem. What do you need done?”
“Well, first off, we need to move that bed in Preston’s room that you two are using away from the wall.”
“Trey,” I said, giving him a dirty look.
Gina blushed and Tristan got a hint of a grin on his face.
“Not a problem, bro,” he replied. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, I’ll need your help rearranging my office so that it can accommodate Preston’s crib and changing table and get those things moved in there.”
Tristan looked over at me grinning; it was my turn to blush.
Gina and I cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen while Trey and Tristan were rearranging the furniture.
“Were we really that loud last night, Ty?”
“Uh, well yeah,” I answered. “Gina, can I ask you something kind of personal?”
“Sure. We have no secrets.”
“What's with the cat screech noises?”
“The what?” she asked, clearly not understanding the question.
“You realize that when you're near orgasm you kind of screech like a cat, don’t you?”
“That wasn’t me,” she said, laughing out loud.
Oh God - not Tristan?
“Tristan and I thought it was you!”
“What?”
She was laughing hysterically now. “Yeah,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “We’ll cop to the bed banging against the wall; Tristan gets a bit vocal, but I swear we heard that cat wailing and thought it was you being pleasured by the Hot Nazi.”
“Oh, my God,” I laughed, feeling my face blush.
Tristan had sat across from me at breakfast thinking that I'd done all of that wailing during the night.
“I guess it must've been a cat in heat somewhere in the building then.”
“You make sure that Tristan knows that it wasn't me,” I said to her.
“I will as long as you let Trey think that it was me,” she snickered.
“Gina, why do you like to get under his skin like that?” I chided.
“Because I can, girlfriend.”
My dad called Sunday evening to update me on the progress he'd made.
“Tylar, I'm pleased to inform you that a federal warrant was served on Matthew Renaud yesterday. He's been taken into federal custody on conspiracy kidnapping charges, harboring a fugitive, and obstructing justice, for starters. This will keep him locked up while we dig up further proof of his criminal activities.”
“So then, evidence was found that he was involved with Maggie in kidnapping Preston?”
“Yes. There was direct evidence found in his home. Some infant clothing that was taken into evidence, as well as information gleaned from his computer and phone records.”
“What I don’t understand is, why was he involved if there was no intention of asking for a ransom?”
“He may have had every intention of doing just that. Something may have gone wrong with their plans. Hopefully, more light will be shed once the federal agents have thoroughly interrogated him.”
“You know, Dad, we’ve never discussed your late wife’s involvement in all of this. Are we going to?”
“Tylar, I'm still trying to sort all of that out here in looking through her papers and bank records. So far, there's nothing. She hid her tracks pretty well.”
“But, are you shocked to think that she'd have participated in hiding the fact that I existed from you?”
“No, quite frankly that does not shock me. She very much wanted us to be married. She was devastated that she couldn’t have children. She likely felt threatened, knowing that I'd sired a child out of wedlock. What would shock me, quite frankly, is to discover she'd played any part in your mother’s death.”
We talked for a few minutes longer. He told me that he would have a limo sent for me when my flight arrived Tuesday in Baton Rouge. He'd taken several days off from the bench in order to spend time with Preston and me.
That night after my shower, I re-read my mother’s notes again. I somehow felt closer to her when I read them. I got my iPhone and replayed Maggie’s last conversation with me the morning she died. She said that my mother had instructed her to give the jewelry boxes to Trinity LaFleur; that it was the only way that she'd be safe. Maggie had said she'd wanted to keep the jewelry for herself. None of that made much sense. How would giving some mid-wife the jewelry keep Maggie safe? But she hadn’t told Maggie to give her the jewelry—she had said the jewelry boxes.
I scrambled up from the bed and went to my closet. I pulled the other blue velvet jewelry box from the dresser. It was square and smaller. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before now. If the larger one had a false bottom, perhaps this one did as well.
I pulled out the pillow that had the earrings on it and examined the bottom of the box. There was the same small satin ribbon hoop at the back corner of the bottom. I pulled the ribbon upward and the false bottom lifted up. There was a small plastic bag in there. I pulled it out and there was a key inside of it. There was a post-it note inside the baggie with my mother’s writing on it. It read:
Trinity,
Please give Maggie the envelope. It's important.
I put the plastic bag back into the box and put the false bottom over it. I put both of the blue velvet jewelry boxes into my carry-on bag. These items were going to Baton Rouge with me. I was determined to get to the bottom of what all of this meant come hell or high bayou water!
Chapter 42
Monday evening, I got Preston bathed and to bed early so I could finish getting her packed up. I hadn’t started packing for me yet. I got her clothes out of her dresser and took them into our master suite. I had our big suitcase out of the closet, opened on the bed.
Trey was lounging across the bed watching the Monday night pre-game show. He was watching me as I folded Preston’s clothing and placed it in the suitcase. I went to my closet pulling out jeans, sweaters, and a couple of blouses along with a pair of dress pants. I packed my black Chanel suit, just in case there was cause to dress up. I went back in to get some heels and boots to take, then my nightclothes and lingerie.
“Jesus Christ, Tylar, you're coming back to me, aren’t you?”
I smiled as I folded my undies and packed them in the suitcase. I then scooted up to Trey where he was reclined back on the bed, his arm underneath his head. He pulled me down to him, his lips capturing mine in a long, languid kiss. His free arm wrapped around behind me, keeping me locked in his embrace.
I smiled against his lips. “I have to finish packing.”
“I want to make love, baby. We’re going to be apart for several days.”
“My diaphragm isn’t in, sweetie.”
He moaned, releasing me from his grasp. “I thought you were going to see your doctor about using something else?”
“I haven’t had a lot of time, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
I finished packing and showered. As I prepared to insert my diaphragm that I'd coated with the spermicidal jelly, I suddenly changed my mind.
Trey and I wanted more children. We were secure in our love and our marriage. We certainly hadn't planned for Preston, but when I hel
d her, nurtured her, and watched her grow a little bit every day, I realized that we couldn’t have planned it any better.
Maybe the most precious things in life are the result of just letting life happen. For tonight, I decided I'd just let life happen. The thought excited me. I turned out the bathroom light, leaving my diaphragm in its case and climbed into our bed with Trey. The game was on now and he was watching it. I curled up next to him, my fingers lightly tracing the path down his ‘treasure trail’ to underneath the elastic waistband of his boxers.
I gently massaged his erection and, in moments, he rose to the occasion. I slipped his boxers down and leaned into him, taking him into my mouth. He was fisting my hair and his breathing deepened as I took the full length of him into my mouth, gently sucking and swirling him from tip to root. He pushed me onto my back and quickly pulled my panties off of me. He lifted my nightie over my head and hovered over me. His lips traced a warm and sensuous path around my nipples; his fingers gently plied them and massaged them. He continued south, where his tongue and fingers worked their magic inside the folds of my pussy. I moaned softly, spreading my legs, wanting him inside of me.
“Is that a hint, Tylar?”
Trey smiled as he rose back up and found my lips with his. I felt his hands part my thighs further as he lowered himself into me, pressing deeply with his initial thrust.
“Mmmm,” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his hips to draw him in deeper.
I raised my pelvis up to meet his thrusts. He was rolling his hips in a circular motion doing everything I loved. I felt myself quicken with each of this thrusts. I felt so emotional. I was going to be apart from Trey for the longest period of time that I'd been away from him since he came to Radcliff to confront me when I was pregnant. I wasn’t typically a needy person, but it was different for some reason. I was going into the unknown by myself.
He was speeding up his momentum; he moaned and whispered things to me like he always did when we were this intimate.
He told me that I was beautiful and perfect; the same things that my father had told my mother. I pulled his face to mine, my hands braced on either side and kissed him passionately, moaning at the pleasure I felt at my core.
“I love you, Trey Michael,” I whispered to him, planting kisses on his lips, his face, and his neck, “I love you, so very much.”
Our orgasms crashed around us, taking us to heights of pleasure that we'd visited before, but not quite as perfect as they were this time.
“Umm Tylar, I love you. You're my angel,” he whispered hoarsely against my lips. He moaned softly as his erection throbbed his love into me over and over again. I clutched him to me as we wound down. We fell asleep curled around each other, content in our love and passion.
Trey took Preston and me to the airport the next morning. I'd dressed her in a dark royal blue velvet dress, tights and her black dress coat and matching winter hat. We put her mittens on her hands and had a difficult time getting her to keep them on during the ride to the airport. Trey kept kissing both of us like he'd never see us again. I finally pulled away from him as the monitor said our flight was ready to board and we hadn’t gone through security yet.
“Trey, sweetie, I'll call as soon as we land and cell phones are permitted again.” I laughed, hugging him.
Preston was a good traveler. She curled up and slept in my lap. When we arrived in Baton Rouge, there was a man holding a sign that said ‘Tylar Sinclair.’ I wondered if I should be put-out that my father hadn’t come personally to the airport. The man with the sign was his driver, apparently. His name was Darryl. He got our luggage into the limo and we started out on the ride to my father’s estate.
Darryl’s words—not mine.
My dad’s estate was about a half an hour from the airport in a rural area. There was a long, winding drive up to the main house that was lined in magnolia trees currently not in bloom. I spotted a barn with a riding arena just past the house. Did my father have horses?
Darryl drove the car up the circular drive to the front of the house. He got out of the limo and opened the door for Preston and me. The large entrance door to my father’s mansion was apparently opened by a couple of workers on his staff. I carried Preston up the concrete steps to the large front porch of this antebellum mansion. There was house staff lined up on the porch to greet us.
A short, black-haired woman with hawkish features stepped forward first. She had thick ankles and a hairdo that looked like it dated back to the 1960s. I could see the whisker chin hairs that she hadn’t bothered to pluck. I guessed her to be in her mid-sixties. Her dress was black, with a crisp white pinafore apron tied around the waist.
“Mrs. Sinclair,” she greeted me stiffly, “I'm Karen Deeny, Judge Tylar’s head of staff here. I'll see to your every need and comfort.”
I actually had chills for some reason. There was no warmth about her, whatsoever. She seemed distant and empty. She instructed another servant by the name of Edie to show us to our suite upstairs. I clutched Preston all that much tighter to me.
Our suite was gorgeous. My room had a lovely ornate canopy bed; the adjoining room was Preston’s nursery, outfitted with a dark cherry wood crib, changing table, and play suite with all kinds of stuffed animals and Fisher Price toys.
I unpacked our suitcase while Preston crawled around on the thick carpet exploring the suite and pulling some of the stuffed animals off of the shelves in her nursery, clutching them tightly.
I needed to call Trey, since it had slipped my mind once we'd landed. I got Preston settled in the fenced play suite in her room that had an array of stuffed toys and a princess castle that she could crawl in and out of at her leisure and then gave Trey a call from my cell phone.
“Hi, baby,” he answered, after the phone had only rang a couple of times. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, Trey,” I said already missing him. “This place is awesome, but I haven’t even seen Dad yet, just a handful of servants. I so wish you were here with me.”
“Baby, I wanted to be there with you, but you didn't say a word about wanting me there. I didn’t want to intrude on your time getting to know your father.”
“You've taken off work so much because of me. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated or think that I couldn’t handle this by myself. You're a senior partner. You don’t need these kinds of distractions,” I replied.
He gave a heavy sigh, “You're my first priority. Do you want me there?”
“Only if your being here won’t majorly disrupt one of your cases.”
“Then I'll be there on the first flight I can get out of Atlanta tomorrow, okay?”
“Thank you, Trey. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. Give our little ‘Vampira’ a kiss from Daddy, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied, smiling. “I'll see you soon.”
There was a knock on the door to our suite shortly after I'd gotten off the phone with Trey. It was Karen announcing Judge Tylar was home and there was tea being served downstairs in his study.
Preston had crawled up to the prune-faced Karen and placed her hands around the thick, tree-trunk ankles of the ‘no-nonsense’ servant.
“I’ve got her,” I said, scooping Preston up in my arms. “Please tell my father that we'll be down shortly.”
“Of course, Mrs. Sinclair,” the servant responded, taking her leave.
I quickly freshened up and then gathered my baby into my arms, ready to face the father I'd only seen once in a crowded court room when I'd not been at my best. I looked at Preston, adorable in her royal blue velvet dress and tights.
“Showtime,” I said to her, kissing her brow gently.
Chapter 43
My father was in the drawing room and Preston and I were escorted there by the frigid midget. I clutched my baby girl close to me.
“Tylar,” my dad said, coming to me and embracing me warmly. “Forgive me for not being able to come to the airport, but I think you'll be pleased with what I've found ou
t. Is this my grandbaby?”
“Yes, Dad, this is Preston Michaela Sinclair. She's actually seven months old today.”
“May I hold her?”
“Of course,” I smiled.
He held his arms out and Preston immediately gave him her dimpled grin and reached for him. He took her from me talking to her and telling her what a beautiful little girl she was, just like her mother.
“Actually Dad, she resembles Trey considerably.”
“Nonsense, daughter,” he replied, “I can see Marley and you in her just as plain as day.”
“By the way, Trey's joining us here tomorrow. I hope that’s okay?”
“Absolutely,” he answered, “I was remiss in not including him in the invitation initially. I presumed he had a busy schedule with his firm.”
“Being a senior partner has its perks, I guess.”
Dad carried Preston over to a birdcage in the corner where a couple of parakeets were chirping and flapping around.
“Preston those are birdies,” he said, annunciating the word, patiently pointing and repeating it several times to her. She spoke some gibberish and then leaned over closer to the cage to get a good look. She became excited as she watched the birds squawk and lift their tail feathers and flutter around the gilded cage. She looked over at me, her eyes shining and pointed to the cage. She mumbled something unintelligible, which I could only guess was her word for 'bird.'
“She's quite intelligent,” my father responded.
“Again,” I replied, “she gets that from Trey.”
He looked over at me quizzically; his expression one of surprise. He soon realized that he'd been exposed to some of my dry humor and he smiled.
“Ah yes,” he said, “I recall getting a glimpse of that sense of humor of yours the first time I saw you in court when Mr. Louderdick wouldn’t shut up.”
I chuckled at my dad and the way that he seemed so normal without his judicial robes; not the stodgy judge with the intimidating expression that had glared at the windbag attorney that day.
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 30