by Deborah Camp
“Will do.” He flashed her a smile. “You look nice.”
She glanced down at the silvery, boat-necked, torso-hugging blouse she’d paired with tuxedo-cut, dark green slacks and gray and silver ankle boots. “Thanks. This is one of those outfits the personal shopper selected for me.”
“It’s not so bad having a personal shopper, is it?”
She smiled, acknowledging his told you so comment. She’d balked at Levi hiring a woman to bring clothes to their home for her to either add to her closet or send back to the stores. Shopping had never been on her list of favorite activities. Even as a child, she’d had to be dragged by her mother to try on and purchase clothes for school. “It was one of Levi’s better ideas,” she admitted. “See you later.”
She decided to drive to the luncheon, but that didn’t mean she would be without a security escort. Being married to a famous psychic and receiving more public exposure for her own work with murder cases, made it necessary to have security guards. Most of the time, she wasn’t accosted by strangers, but occasionally it happened. Usually, reporters hunted her down when she was working on a high-profile case, but sometimes people approached her, begging her to help them find missing loved ones. During those uncomfortable confrontations, she was glad to have a security guard along with her.
As she walked to her parking space, she spotted a black SUV and heard the engine kick over. Dixie Beech, one of her personal body guards, was behind the wheel. Trudy nodded at her before slipping into the driver’s seat of her Porsche Panamera and keying the Buckhead address into the navigator. She hadn’t driven much in Atlanta until lately. It had taken her a few months to get acquainted with the sprawling city and its variety of neighborhoods. As she whipped out of the parking garage, she rolled down the windows and felt the touch of autumn in the air.
“Fall.” She took a deep, cleansing breath. It was already September. Only a year ago she had agreed to work with the famous Leviticus Wolfe on a murder case in Florida. Now she was married to him! Memories of Levi’s determined courtship darted in and out of her mind. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he meant to bed her, and although she’d put up some resistance, she’d caved fairly quickly. When Levi Wolfe wanted someone or something, he was relentless and unapologetic. She had known that she’d be putty in his hands. What she hadn’t banked on was that he would become putty in hers. Although it took some persistence on her part, she had coaxed him into opening up to her and showing her the real person behind his supremely confident public façade. What she’d found was a lonely, broken-hearted, dispirited man who thought he was unlovable.
Arriving at the posh restaurant for the luncheon, Trudy turned the burnt orange Porsche over to the valet. The young man eyed it and grinned as he helped her from the car.
“Nice wheels, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” She watched as the valet drove the sports car around to the back parking lot. She’d been stunned when she’d seen the car waiting for her in Atlanta after she and Levi had gotten engaged. Levi had dropped the keys into her palm, curled her fingers over them, and then kissed her knuckles.
“All yours, baby,” he’d told her. “Custom paint job, custom everything. Enjoy it.”
His generosity was boundless, she thought with a full heart as she entered the restaurant and was shown to the private dining room. One of the first people to greet her was Althea McClain.
“Trudy!” The statuesque psychiatrist was stunning in a turquoise, tweedy skirt and gold silk blouse. She caught Trudy’s hands in hers. “Levi couldn’t make it?”
“He’s tied up in meetings today.”
Althea nodded. “And he wants you to step up and participate more, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, and I don’t mind. In fact, I’m very interested in CASA.”
“It’s a wonderful service. By the way, I’m so pleased that you agreed to assist me with Stuart.”
“Of course. Anything we can do to help, Dr. McClain.”
“I saw your place-setting placard,” she said, tucking Trudy’s hand in the crook of her arm as she escorted her toward the stage. “You’re sitting right here.” She motioned to a table. “There’s an open bar if you’d like to have something before the meeting commences.”
“No, thank you.” She noticed that waiters were beginning to serve salads. “Where are you sitting?”
“Front table, I’m afraid. I’m introducing the speaker. Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk later. If not, I’ll see you at my office next week.”
Trudy sat down and said hello to the others who were already seated, recognizing several of them from other parties and fundraisers. Just as she was beginning to enjoy the conversations around her and the delicious Caesar salad, she caught sight of platinum hair and heard a familiar, throaty laugh. A double take confirmed it. Sissy Franklin held court at the next table, chattering away, the center of attention. The Court TV program hostess was chummy with Levi and had him on her show every few months. Trudy tried to be okay with it, but Sissy irritated her. Sissy and Levi had been “fuck buddies,” as Levi put it, before he’d committed to Trudy. In her heart, Trudy knew that Levi had nothing to do with Sissy in that way now, but Sissy had a way of hinting that she expected Levi to “come around” eventually.
Trudy forced her attention away from the brassy woman and focused on the pleasant people at her table. The speaker was interesting and Trudy made a mental note to volunteer her time more in CASA. After the program concluded, she lingered to chat with a few women about their work with the group and to learn that they needed more volunteers. Suddenly, Sissy sidled up.
“Where’s Levi?” she asked, barging into the conversation.
“He’s working.” Trudy glanced at her watch. “I must be going. Good to meet you all and I’ll be in touch.” She turned her back on Sissy, but Sissy walked with her to the exit. Trudy handed her ticket to the valet as did Sissy.
“How do you like being a lady who lunches?”
Trudy didn’t attempt to hide her dislike for the woman. “You’re implying that I’m living large off of Levi’s money, right? Well, get over it, Sissy. Find some other ax to grind.”
“So touchy! Hon, cool your jets. I’m simply trying to get to know you better. That’s all. Levi and I are close friends and—.”
“You think you’re close to him, do you?” she interrupted, then chuckled at the thought of that. She positively refused to let Sissy Franklin fool herself into thinking that Levi ever gave her a moment’s thought. “Don’t even try to come between us.” She leaned fractionally closer. “Or you’ll get squished, hon.”
Sissy released a startled laugh, her brown eyes widening. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
The dark orange Porsche zipped around the corner and glided to a stop in front of them. Trudy went around to the driver’s side where the valet held the door open for her.
“Ma’am.”
She pressed a folded bill into his palm. “Thank you.” Looking across the hood at Sissy, Trudy sized up the other woman in her black pencil skirt and black and gold patterned silk blouse. She was a looker, all right, and she knew it. A white Mercedes pulled up behind the Porsche and another valet hurried forward to hand its keys to Sissy. Trudy looked from Sissy’s sedate auto back to hers and tried not to smirk. She slid into the leather seat and gave her flashy car the gas.
Irritation whirled inside her and she was so busy lecturing herself about not letting Sissy Franklin get under her skin that she took a wrong turn and found herself on an unfamiliar street that appeared to dead end at a gated estate. The gates were open, giving a glimpse of a winding drive. She glanced in the rearview mirror at the black SUV slowly moving toward hers. Dixie probably was wondering where the heck they were headed!
Curiosity about what kind of house she’d find beyond those gates tugged at her. What the heck? She drove onto the property, past manicured lawns and clipped hedges. She knew little about the area called Peachtree Heights East.
Its charming Duck Pond Park reminded her of Swan Lake back in Tulsa.
Towering oak trees thinned out, allowing her a glimpse of the house. Her breath whistled down her throat. Tucked in among flame-shaped cypress trees and rounded hedges, the home’s white stucco walls contrasted with the tall, dark front door and the ebony framed circle window directly above it.
“Art deco,” Trudy murmured as her heart gave a little leap. Without a second thought, she continued on, parking near the front door to admire the circle drive, bubbling fountain, and the sleek, three-level house.
She gasped when the door opened and a smartly dressed, brunette stepped out, greeting her with a wide smile.
“Hello there! You’re early, but that’s fine. You can leave your car parked right there. Come inside. I’m eager to show you the Tucker house.”
“The wh-what?” Trudy asked, baffled as she emerged from the low-slung car. Did she know this woman? She must! How else would she know her name?
“The Tucker house,” the smartly-dressed woman repeated, tapping a long fingernail on a brochure. “It was built in 1928 by Horace and Merlene Tucker.”
“Oh.” Trudy chuckled under her breath at the strange coincidence and tried to refocus on what the woman was saying.
“He was a cotton gin owner who invested later in oil and gas companies. The Bacone’s are the present owners, but it’s still known locally as the Tucker house. It was one of the first homes constructed near Duck Pond. I’m Gennie Germaine, by the way. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Walworth.”
“Uh, hello. And I’m not Mrs. Walworth.” Trudy issued an apologetic shrug. “I took a wrong turn and . . . well, this place is charming. Even though I don’t have an appointment, may I see inside it?”
“Oh. I . . .” The realtor glanced at Trudy’s expensive sports car and seemed to make a decision from that. “Certainly.”
“I love art deco. So does my husband. Oh, I’m Trudy Tucker Wolfe.” She held out her hand.
The realtor looked startled. “Tucker? Really? Oh, Wolfe!” Her eyes widened. “You’re Levi Wolfe’s wife.”
“That’s right.” Not for the first time, Trudy was glad to share Levi’s last name, especially when it opened doors and opportunities for her.
“Naturally, I know about him – and you. I mean, you’re local celebrities! It’s so nice to meet you! Yes, please, allow me to show you the house. You’re going to love it. It has six bedrooms and five bathrooms, plus there is a two-story, two-bath guest house that is fully equipped. Luxury touches are everywhere . . .”
“ . . .and it has two elevators plus two staircases,” Trudy told Levi later that evening after dinner when they’d settled in the den. “Did I tell you about the heated pool and the pond and stream?”
“Yes.” He smiled and lounged back against the couch cushions.
“Oh, and you won’t believe this, but there is a starlit ceiling in the media room! Kind of like the one in our bedroom. There are several balconies and three fireplaces. The realtor said the kitchen is seismic? Does that sound right?”
He chuckled. “Siematic maybe?”
“Yes! What’s that?”
“It’s a company. They’re known for their no handles, contemporary finishes.”
“That’s it, then. The kitchen reminded me of you. All sleek lines. Black, dark emerald, and silver.” Sitting beside him, she picked up a magazine from the side table and began flipping through it.
“What about you, Trudy? Can you see yourself living there?”
“Hmmm?” She glanced up to find him regarding her with one eyebrow arched. “It’s really big, Levi. Way too big for two people. Did I mention that it’s known locally as the Tucker House?”
“You did. Sounds like kismet.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said about us hours after we met up in the Keys.”
“And I was right.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “It’s like a dream house. The art deco. The beautiful outdoor areas, the fountain, the underground parking garage. But it’s pricey.”
“I’m sure it is. How much?”
She had to swallow hard before she could answer. “Seven million eight hundred thousand. Dollars.”
He laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. “I figured it wasn’t pesos or euros.” He stretched one arm along the back of the couch and let his fingertips drift through the side of her hair. “I might go look at it.”
“Why?”
He smirked. “Why do you think?”
“We’re fine here, Levi. Looking at that place was just a whim.”
“Lately, I’ve felt the need for more separation from the business. Being next door makes it too tempting to go over there and make some calls or wrap up some loose ends that could wait until the next day or even the next week. Then there’s the security problem.”
“What security problem?” She closed the magazine.
“Too many people know how to find us. I can’t walk out the door without people taking pictures and asking to let them take a selfie with me.”
“The house isn’t that far away, but it’s secluded. Gated.” She imagined being there for a few moments. “You’d have to commute. It’s about half an hour drive if the traffic is light, which it never is.”
“I wouldn’t mind the drive most of the time. I could always commute by helicopter.”
She leaned away from him, giving him the once-over. “You don’t have a helicopter.”
“No, but I could get one. I’ve thought about it before. There is a landing pad on top of the building that Gonzo’s security company is moving into next month. We were talking about purchasing a helicopter that both of our businesses could use. One of Gonzo’s clients owns private hangers at Brown Field and we could keep the helicopter there when we weren’t using it.”
“You have been giving this some thought. A helicopter would cost a lot to buy and a lot to keep going.”
“But it would save me and Gonzo time, since we both have business all over the place. I’ve even thought about buying a corporate jet.”
“Oh my gosh, Levi! Now we’re talking mountains of money.” She waved her hands in a flurry of nerves. “Let’s just forget this whole thing. I wish I hadn’t even mentioned the house now.”
He chuckled at her. “The company is growing, Tru. That’s the point of having a company. Get bigger, hire more people, make more money. Spend more money to make more money. We’ve forged a name for ourselves in the restoration field and we’re receiving inquiries, not just from all over the U.S., but overseas, too.”
Digesting this, she felt stunned. Talk of his – their – wealth took the air from her lungs and made her heart tremble.
“We could keep the penthouse for now,” he said, now almost talking to himself. “It would give us an option of staying here when we have events to go to downtown. We can always lease it out later if we want.”
Piles of cash stacked up in her mind. “Sounds like a slippery slope, if you ask me. You start with buying a high-priced home, then you decide you need a helicopter, and then, why not just buy a jet while you’re at it? We’re talking millions of dollars.”
He nodded. “Couldn’t touch a jet for less than twenty-five million, probably. More like thirty or forty million. Helicopters aren’t as expensive, of course, but we could easily spend up to a million for one.”
She pressed her hands to her ears. “Stop. I feel ill.”
He gripped her wrists and pried her hands away from the sides of her head, laughing at her antics. “We could buy used ones if that would make it go down better for you.”
“Yes! Used, but reliable.” She shook her head at him as he let go of her wrists. “When I was a little girl, Sadie and I would play ‘If I were rich, I’d buy . . .’ The most extravagant things we came up with were Mustang convertibles, designer jeans, and a backyard pool.”
His smile diminished. “I never played those games when I was a kid.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she framed his
face in her hands. “Oh, my sweet man. I shouldn’t have—.”
“No.” He covered her hands with his. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The thing is, Tru, we can afford these things. They sound extravagant, but they are business tools. When you reach certain milestones, it’s natural to take a look at the convenience of easier and more flexible modes of travel.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t cry. Okay?”
She nodded, batting away the sudden hot tears that had blurred her vision when she’d thought of his childhood, bereft of any silly games or sweet dreams. His only wish back then had been to somehow escape the hell his parents had placed him in.
He patted his thigh, inviting Mouse to join him for some cuddles. The Chihuahua didn’t have to be asked twice. She was in his lap in a flash of gray fur. “If I go look at the house, you want to come with me?”
“I’m sure someone will buy it in a few days, Levi. There are probably already offers on it.”
“Do you want to come with me or not?”
She met his slightly amused gaze. “Sure.” She tried to sound nonchalant. “It will be nice to see Duck Pond again. It reminds me of Swan Lake in Tulsa.” She eyed his sly grin and gave him a whack on the arm with her fist. “You’re laughing at me!” Mouse barked at her for hitting him. “Oh hush! You’re supposed to be on my side, you little traitor.”
He gathered the dog closer, hugging her to his chest. “She knows I’m right about this.”
“About what?”
“Taking a look at your dream house.”
“It’s not my dream house. In fact, when we go house hunting for real, we should take our time and view several homes before we make any decisions.”
He set Mouse on the couch between them. “If I like the place, I’ll probably make an offer.”
“Levi, no.”
“If you don’t want to live there, it will still be a good investment. Houses in that area only go up in value.”
“Levi, really. No.”
He turned his head to look at her and his expression was all male bravado. “You don’t want to say no to me, do you, baby? Huh?” He pushed Mouse off the couch and crowded Trudy, bumping chests with her, wrapping his arms around her.