by Paula Graves
She called the lawyer as soon as his office opened and he agreed to see her right away if she could get there before nine. His office was in Maryville, about twenty minutes away, but fortunately she’d showered and dressed before making the call, so they reached Maryville with time to spare.
“Am I going to be forced to fire you for ditching work?” she asked lightly as they passed the big Davenport Trucking sign on West Sperry Road.
“I took vacation days. Cleared it with your stepbrother before I went looking for Davis Rogers.”
“Very conscientious.”
“What about your stepbrother?” he asked with a sideways glance toward her. “If you were incapacitated, could he take over as the CEO?”
“I don’t think he wants to be CEO. His passion is hospitality. He used to work at a big resort on the Mississippi Gulf Coast before things went bad down that way and a lot of people were laid off. I think he’s still hoping to get back into that line of work someday. I think he’s only stayed at Davenport Trucking this long because his mother married my father. I won’t be surprised if he gives me his notice sooner rather than later.”
“Okay.” Seth fell silent until they reached Ed Blount’s office in the Maryville downtown area. The lawyer’s office was located in an old two-story white clapboard house converted to upstairs and downstairs offices. Blount’s suite was on the lower floor, and he greeted Rachel with an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a look of puzzlement.
“I didn’t expect to see you this soon,” Ed told her. “If you’re here about the will reading—”
“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “I do have a question about my father’s business, though.”
“Okay.” Ed spotted Seth, his sandy eyebrows lifting.
“Ed, this is Seth Hammond. Seth, Ed Blount.”
Seth’s face was a mask. “We’ve met.”
From the look on the lawyer’s face, it must not have been a pleasant acquaintance. “What is he doing here?”
“I can go,” Seth said.
“No.” She caught his wrist, holding him in place. She turned back to Ed. “Let’s just stipulate that Seth was no doubt a complete ass in the past, and you have every right to distrust him for whatever it was he did to you—”
“It wasn’t to him,” Seth said. “It was his daughter.”
She shot him a look. He met her gaze, unflinching for a moment. Then his eyes dropped, and he turned his head away.
“She thought you loved her,” Ed growled.
“I know.”
“That’s it? You know?”
Seth’s gaze lifted slowly. “I could tell you that I regret it, but you’re not going to believe me, and it won’t make her feel a damned bit better.”
“What about her college money? Can you give that back to her?”
Rachel’s heart sank painfully at the look of shame on Seth’s face. But he didn’t look away from Ed. “I tried.”
Ed stared at him. “When?”
“About a year ago. She shoved it back to me and told me she didn’t want my dirty money.”
“Where is it now?”
“I gave it to the soup kitchen in Knoxville. I know Lauren used to volunteer there.”
“That’s where she met you,” Ed snarled. “You played on her soft heart and convinced her you were just down on your luck and looking for someone to believe in you.”
Seth’s expression grew stony. His voice, when he spoke, was dry and uninflected. “I did.”
“You broke her heart.”
“I know.”
“I’m sick of hearing that!” he bellowed, charging toward Seth.
“Ed.” Rachel grabbed the lawyer’s arm and put herself between him and Seth, struggling to keep a sudden tremor in her knees from spreading to the rest of her limbs. “You had to work me in and I don’t want to run out of time because of this.”
“I’ll wait outside.” Seth exited abruptly, closing the door behind him, leaving Rachel alone with Ed.
The lawyer glared with loathing at the closed door, his breathing coming in short, harsh grunts. “What the hell are you doing with that man?”
“It’s a long story. And it’s not relevant to what I’m here to find out.”
Ed stared at her in consternation, visibly trying to collect himself. Finally, in a calmer tone of voice, he asked, “What are you here to find out?”
She nudged him toward his office door, shooting an apologetic smile toward the pretty red-haired receptionist who had watched the whole debacle with her mouth in an O of surprise. “I need to know what would happen to Davenport Trucking if I were no longer able to act as CEO.”
* * *
WELL, THAT had gone well.
Seth sank onto the top porch step and stared across the tree-shaded street at the mostly full parking lot of a sprawling one-story medical clinic. Pediatrics, he realized as the cars came and went with their cargo of harried moms and coughing, sniffling children.
Maybe he should write Rachel a note, leave it on her windshield and walk back to Davenport Trucking. He could hang around until lunchtime and see if one of the guys in the fleet garage could drive him to the rental car place in Alcoa in exchange for lunch.
But before he talked himself to his feet, the door opened behind him and Rachel stepped out, stopping short as she spotted him on the porch step. “Oh. I was halfway expecting you to be gone.”
He rose and turned to face her, his spine rigid with a combination of shame and stubborn pride. “I was halfway to talking myself into going.”
“You warned me,” she said quietly, nodding toward the car.
“I did.” He fell into step with her as they walked to the Honda.
“Didn’t you realize who we were going to see?”
“I didn’t connect the names.” He forced a grim smile. “Lots of Blounts in Blount County, Tennessee.”
“Did you really try to pay her back?”
He slanted a look at her, trying not to be hurt by the question. “Yes.”
“And when she refused, you gave the money to the soup kitchen?”
“Foundations of Hope. Downtown. Ask for Dave Pelletier.”
She paused with her key halfway to the ignition. “You always sound as if you’re telling the truth.”
“And you can’t trust that I am.” It wasn’t a question. He saw the doubt in her eyes.
“I want to.”
“That’s not enough. You have to be sure, and you can’t afford to let time and experience prove my motives are sincere.”
“I don’t know who to trust at all.” She looked so afraid, and he hated himself for adding to her distress.
“Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts,” he said quietly. “What do your instincts tell you?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “That you want to keep me safe.”
A strange sensation, part agony, part joy, burned a hole in the center of his chest. “You’re crazy.”
Even though tears shined in her eyes, she laughed. “That’s not a nice thing to say to a woman with my mental health history.”
He laughed, too, even though he felt like crying, as well. “I won’t hurt you. Not if there’s anything I can do to avoid it. And if you ever begin to doubt me, you say so and I’ll be gone.”
“Deal.” She held out her hand.
He shook it, his fingers tingling where hers touched him. He resisted the powerful urge to pull her into his arms and let go, turning to buckle himself in. “What now? What did you learn?”
“A lot. But I’m not sure how it’s going to help us.”
Chapter Twelve
“So the trustees choose the CEO?” Seth asked a few minutes later, after Rachel had summarized what Ed Blount had told her.
“Is that the gist of it?”
Rachel nodded as she threaded her way through traffic on Lamar Alexander Parkway, heading toward the mountains. “There are parameters, of course. My father apparently left a list of approved candidates that the trustees have to choose from first. If none of those candidates is willing to take the job, the trustees are tasked with a circumscribed candidate search. My father apparently left detailed instructions.”
“Blount wouldn’t give you the details, though?”
“Not before the reading of the will next Tuesday....”
“But?” he prodded, apparently reading her hesitation.
“He mentioned that my uncle helped my father come up with the list. I think Uncle Rafe might be willing to tell me now if I ask him.”
“So let’s ask him.”
She shot him a smile. “Where do you think we’re heading?”
Her uncle lived across the state line in Bryson City, where he and his wife, Janeane, ran a music hall catering primarily to Smoky Mountains tourists. The drive from Maryville took over two hours, but Rachel couldn’t complain much about the view as their route twisted through the Smokies, past bluffs cut into the earth and sweeping vistas of the mountains spreading north and east, their tips swallowed by lingering mists that even the sunny day had not completely dissipated.
They arrived at Song Valley Music Hall in time for lunch. The fall tourist season was just starting, which meant they didn’t have their choice of tables when they walked into the dimly lit dining hall, but they didn’t have to wait in line, either.
Uncle Rafe himself came out to greet them, menu in hand and a smile on his face. His eyes widened as he recognized her. “Rachel, my dolly! You should have called to let me know you were coming. I just gave away the last front-row table for the show!”
“That’s okay—we’ll enjoy it anyway.” She gave her uncle a kiss and turned to Seth. He looked uncomfortable, which struck her as odd, considering his history as a con artist. Weren’t con men chameleons? “Uncle Rafe, this is Seth Hammond, a friend of mine. Seth, this is my uncle Rafe Hunter.”
Her uncle’s blue eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Hammond.”
Seth nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Any kin to Delbert Hammond?”
Seth’s expression froze in place. “My father.”
Uncle Rafe nodded slowly. “There’s a resemblance.”
Seth’s mask slipped a bit, revealing dismay in his green eyes. “So I’m told.”
Rafe cocked his head to one side. “You’re the one got burned.”
Rachel looked from her uncle to Seth. His left hand rose and settled against his right shoulder, kneading the skin through his shirt. “That’s right. Long time ago.”
“Heard you’ve been playing nursemaid to Cleve Calhoun for the last little while. That true?”
“Yes, sir.” Seth’s hand dropped away from his shoulder. “He’s at a rehab place now, though. His son talked him into giving it a go.”
“You couldn’t get him to agree?”
“Don’t reckon I tried, really. I’ve never had any luck talking Cleve into much of anything.
Uncle Rafe smiled a little at Seth’s admission. “I’ll buy that. You still in the life?”
“Uncle Rafe—”
“I am not,” Seth answered.
“You sure?” Her uncle’s gaze went from Seth’s stony face to Rachel’s.
“I’ve found there’s no long-term job satisfaction in lying to people for a living.”
Uncle Rafe’s gaze swept back to meet Seth’s. “I don’t know, son. I’m a showman, and what is that but lying to people for a living? Putting on an act, sucking them into a narrative of my choosing?”
“The people at a show know what they’re seeing isn’t real,” Seth answered slowly. “They’re willing participants in their own deception.”
Uncle Rafe’s well-lined face creased with a smile. “Damn good answer, boy.” He hooked his arm through Rachel’s and led her to the second row of tables facing the large stage. “Gotta go start deceiving this room full of willing participants in their own deception,” he said with a wink in Seth’s direction. “You’ll stick around after the show, of course?”
“Absolutely,” Rachel agreed. “I need to ask you a few questions about the trucking company. Will you have time between lunch and dinner?”
“I’ll make time, dolly girl.” He gave her a quick kiss and headed for the back of the restaurant.
The food at her uncle’s place was good, simple home cooking. Janeane ran the kitchen, while he booked the acts and kept the daily shows going, varying things up every few weeks to keep it fresh for returning customers, Rachel told Seth while they were waiting for their orders. “Probably sixty to seventy percent of their customers are tourists,” she added. “But they get a lot of locals, too, who like to take in a show. He brings in a lot of young, upcoming bluegrass and country performers. He has a real talent for knowing who’s going to be the next big thing.”
“You’re proud of him,” Seth said with a smile.
“Yeah, I am.”
His smile shifted slightly. “Nice to have someone to be proud of.”
“You don’t?”
“There’s Dee. She’s the real star of the family.” Rachel could tell from the look in his eyes that he thought the world of his sister. “I knew when we were little she was going to be special. She never let anything that was going on around us faze her. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it. And she always did it the right way. No shortcuts. No stomping all over someone else to get ahead. I used to think my parents must have stolen her from some nice family, ’cause she wasn’t a damned thing like the rest of us.”
“Are you two close?”
The pain she occasionally glimpsed in his eyes was back. “No. My fault. I wore out my welcome with Delilah a long time ago.”
“She helped you out with me.”
He reached across the table, lightly tapping the back of her hand. “That was for you, sugar. Not for me.”
“She doesn’t believe you’ve changed?”
A mask of indifference came over his face. “Nobody does.”
“I do,” she said without thinking.
His gaze focused on hers, green eyes blazing. “You don’t know me, Rachel. And most of what you’ve heard and seen should scare the hell out of you. Don’t make up some fantasy about the misunderstood tough guy who just needs someone to care. I’m not misunderstood. People understand exactly who I was. I’ve earned their disgust.”
“You’re not pulling con jobs anymore—”
“So? I did. I did them willingly, with skill and determination.”
“And then you stopped.”
He shook his head. “Because I finally disgusted even myself! Do you understand what I did?”
She found herself floundering for an answer. “You lied to people and conned them out of money—”
“I hurt people,” he said in a low, hard growl. “Not with a gun or a knife but with my lies. Do you know Lauren Blount, Rachel?”
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“When I met her, she was nineteen. Pretty as a postcard and as sweet as Carolina honey. I convinced her I wanted a life with her, but because of my meth-dealing daddy and how he blew up my whole family, I couldn’t catch a break. Showed her my burn scars, told her how I got them saving my mama from the burning house after my daddy nearly killed us all.”
“Is that really what happened? That’s what Uncle Rafe was talking about earlier, right? About your getting burned.”
He met her gaze. “So what if it was? That’s what con men do, don’t you get it? We take the truth and use it to sell our lies. I had burn scars from draggin’ my mama out of that house ’cause she was too drunk to get out hersel
f, and yeah, it makes a real pitiful story. Women see your scars, get all soft and gooey about how you’re some hero, and they don’t even see you’re playing them like fiddles.”
She looked away, feeling ill.
“I had Lauren eating out of my hand. I told her I had this idea for a business, see, and I needed some seed money, but no banks or businesspeople were going to take a chance on some old hillbilly like me. I made it sound like a sure thing. I made it sound like our future. And she ate it up. She saw the poor sad sack who just needed a good woman’s love to make things okay for him, and she went for the bait in a heartbeat. Just like I knew she would.”
“Then what did you do?”
“She gave me the money she’d saved up for her next two semesters of college. Cried a little as she did it, telling me that even if nobody else believed in me, she did.”
Tears burned Rachel’s eyes as she tried to picture herself in Lauren Blount’s situation. Madly in love and wanting so much to help him out. Would she have given him the money?
She didn’t think she liked the answer.
“I took the money and I left town. Left her a note telling her that she needs to be careful about who she trusts in the future.” He smiled, but it was a horrible sight, full of anger and self-loathing. “She’s taken that warning to heart. I don’t think she trusts anyone anymore.”
Silence fell between them. Finally, Rachel found the courage to speak. “Didn’t she press charges against you?”
He shook his head. “She gave me the money willingly, and I was vague about what I planned to do with it. She would have had to try to prove her case in court, and she didn’t want to face that kind of scrutiny.” He grimace-smiled again. “Lucky me.”
“My God.”
His green eyes flashed at her again. “Now you’re getting it.”
She felt sick. “What made you quit the con game?”
“Cleve’s stroke.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Really.”