by Aimee Laine
“I think those two were totally into each other, even after fifty, sixty, or however many years they’d been together.” Tripp leaned through the doorframe of a full bathroom. A white porcelain clawfoot tub sat center stage. “Wow. I can see why Lexi likes this house.” He made his way into the master bedroom and shifted his gaze up to find four skylights built into the ceiling.
Ian paced up to him. “Now that is why Lexi likes this house. What a view of the stars.”
“How long did you say George and Marge were together?” Tripp stared up through the overhead windows.
“She told me they found each other when they were eighteen, married right away—had to, she said, but didn’t go into why. I mean, back then, could have been any reason. War. Just being young and impetuous—which you are not. What about an unplanned pregnancy?”
Tripp didn’t want to think about Marge and George’s intimate life. “How did they get around their gifts? She told me it was part of the game or the end of it.”
Ian chuckled. “Dude, that’s an easy one. I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out.”
The stars and moon brought small pinpoints of light into the room. “I’m tired and frustrated. So, if you would, please, fill me in on what you learned.”
“Fine, fine.” Ian leaned against the wall. “Let’s talk about one other thing first.”
“What could be more important?”
Ian shook his head, rolling his eyes as if Tripp should have read his mind. “Sloan?”
“Go on.”
“According to some insiders, who we’re going to owe big time, Sloan hired us to get the painting using his ownership papers, right?
Tripp nodded.
“Apparently, he’d already sold that painting last year to an auction house across the big Atlantic pond—in Paris. What I’m guessing here is, Sloan will hint to the buyer that something happened—he got the wrong copy, maybe. When Sloan comes up empty-handed, he’ll point to us since we excavated it, so to speak.”
“So, when he reports it as a forgery, it would fall into Interpol’s jurisdiction, and when it comes back to us, we’ll be up shit creek.” Tripp punched the air.
Ian smiled. “With no paddles or life jackets.” He shook a finger in Tripp’s direction. “If you take the bait, he’s got his painting, his money, and his baby girl is happy.”
Tripp leaned his head to his friend. “But?”
“He thinks we’re high priced retrieval experts—which we are—but he doesn’t know what you can really do.” Ian placed a hand over his heart. “So, what if we call his bluff? We find the real one and replace it for the buyer. We undo what he did. That’s what I think you gotta do to win Lexi, too.”
“What’re you talking about?” Tripp crossed to the side window, peered down into the blankness of the yard.
“You’re not going to go through all this stuff unless the end goal is worth it, right? Is she?”
Tripp shifted his gaze to the stars. They blinked, blipped and shimmered. “As crazy as it sounds—yeah, I think she’s worth it.”
“Then you gotta let her catch you.”
“Say what? That’s the magic solution you learned from the Fergs?” He couldn’t help the incredulous note that crept into his voice.
“Finish the game, just like when we were kids. You play hide and seek, but on your terms. You only hide until you’re ready to be caught, and you let her find you.”
“Throw the game? And what will losing do for me? Is this house a reflection of that end?” Tripp spun, his arms wide. “Because if it is, I don’t want it. I don’t want a broken down farmhouse with nothing to show for my life.”
Ian offered his cheesiest grin. “Thought she was worth it.”
Tripp ran a hand over his head, scratched against the tattoo on his neck. “Dammit. I hate this. All my life I’ve been tied to this fucking star, and now, of all times, it wants to bite me in the ass.”
“Aw, man. You’ve had a good run, and just because you give in to her, doesn’t mean you’ll lose your ability. You let her catch you. Maybe that means our life as we know it goes away … and maybe it doesn’t.”
Tripp slammed his palm onto the wall. “Why did I give up Jill?” He pounded his forehead into the same spot.
“Because she wasn’t worth it.” Ian’s lips stayed curved up.
Without turning around, Tripp said, “And Lexi is?”
“Only you can answer that.”
“We gotta go back to New York, don’t we?” Tripp spun to his friend, recognizing the next step as much as he already hated it. “We have to leave before I can even know for sure, don’t we?”
Ian nodded. “Yeah, we do. Tomorrow.”
19
In the morning sunshine, the farmhouse’s flaws jumped out like acne on a teenager. Though wallpaper peeled, the faucet handle fell away from the sink, and bathroom pipes gurgled, the floor to ceiling windows left without cover breathed life into the old square house. Tripp walked through the entire place, taking notes on work needed.
“I want to check out the barn.” He thumbed to Ian, who worked from his cell.
“You get good reception out here, man. That’s going to be necessary when we’re working long distance.”
Since the moment he met Lexi, Tripp knew he’d move from New York. He forgot his best friend wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think—”
“I know.” Ian tapped at the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Arranging flights for tonight.” Ian stopped, lifted his head.
“We only have ’til Friday, or we’re going to get screwed.”
“That’s what she said.” Ian belted out a laugh.
“That wasn’t a joke,” Tripp said.
“Fine. Fine. Then, yes, tonight. That gives us exactly four days to figure out what to do. I’d say let’s ask Lexi for help, but I think you need to keep her out of this.”
Tripp’s grin fell flat like a soufflé without any yeast. “I thought we could use her.” Just saying the word ‘use’ sounded crass, even to his own ears.
“It’s too dangerous to bring her in on this. She doesn’t have the skills, and we’ve got to be quick.”
Tripp rubbed his face, gave a small groan. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“No maybe about it.” Ian didn’t even look up.
“I’m going out to the barn.” Tripp thumbed over his shoulder as he passed from living room through the kitchen, footsteps telling him Ian followed.
The walk to the red Americana structure covered no more than fifty yards. To one side, a white fence gated a weedy pasture, and to the other, a double clothesline sagged.
“There isn’t a soul within my sight line,” Ian said.
A smile built within Tripp. “Yeah, it’s cool, isn’t it?” He slipped the old latch open with a single push, the hinges creaking as the door swung outward. “Wow.”
The wide open space smelled of hay and dust with six doors on each side. “This could hold horses if I wanted.” Tweets high in the rafters suggested a swallow or some other bird had made her home above.
“There’re probably snakes in here,” Ian said.
Tripp grinned. “Scared?”
“No.” Ian pushed past him, dropping his phone in a pocket. “We’re booked. First class, nine o’clock.”
A tack room door creaked on rusty hinges—worse than the outside one had. Four saddle racks jutted from the walls with accompanying hooks for bridles and accessories. A metal cabinet in the corner, coated in dust and cobwebs, beckoned to be opened.
Rust spots dotted the handle Tripp reached for.
“I think this building is in better shape than the house,” Ian said.
Tripp grunted—the doors screeching as they separated.
“Did you expect there’d be something in there?” Ian asked.
“No, just had this weird feeling.” He closed them again, a cloud of dust breezing down from above.
“What’s that?” Ian poin
ted to the top of the cabinet. He reached up, bringing down a dust-covered book.
“Probably some log about horses or something.” Tripp took it, flipped through the pages, narrowing his eyes at the writing—a left slant in an ornate cursive. “Ian, check this out.” A full breath blew dust from the book to the air.
He turned to the first page, adjusting the journal’s angle to better read the handwriting.
“This is theirs.” Ian ran a finger along one of the lines. “To Marge Jacobs from George Fergs, my forever. Lexi would have a field day with this.”
Wheels against the gravel drive had them both turning. Tripp tucked the book beneath his arm as the two of them strode out.
“Who the hell is that?” Ian stopped a step away from the barn.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“Sloan’s girl … from Savannah.”
“A woman?” Ian snorted.
“Girls carry guns, too, and she came with two bigger guys. Combined with the fact I was ready to vomit, plus had a shot-up arm, I didn’t have much choice but to talk with them.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” Isabelle said, a smile across her face.
“Keeping tabs?” Tripp asked.
She bobbled her head. “It’s best if we keep our eyes on you. Helps to know what’s going on, what information to report back.”
“What do you want to know, Ms. Reed?” Tripp stuck his thumbs in his pockets as Ian flanked him.
“Oh, well, I’m heading back to New York. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget our deal.” She turned as Lexi’s Mini pulled in next to her rental.
Lexi exited her car with a wave. In her hand, she carried another envelope. As she walked toward where they stood, Lexi veered toward Isabelle, and Tripp started to head her off.
Ian grabbed his arm, murmuring under his breath. “Wait it out.”
Isabelle flashed a smirk across her face.
“Hi!” Lexi said and extended her hand. “I’m Lexi Shepherd.”
Tripp wanted to step between them, to prevent them from touching, to separate his present from his past.
“Isabelle Reed.”
“Are you a neighbor?” Lexi’s infectious smile hit him like it did every time he caught sight of her.
His heart thudded in his chest at the realization Isabelle could ruin everything. The fact he burned with anger confirmed what he’d already known: Lexi did mean enough.
“Ah, no, just a passerby,” Isabelle said. “Saw the for sale sign, bunch of people milling about. Had to check it out. This is a pretty nice house—old in a country charm kind of way.”
“It is. Don’t you just love it? Tripp just bought it.” She pointed his way, smiling again. “I’ve got to get the sign down.” A pat to the yellow envelope had them both angling down toward it.
“Did he now? Well, that’s quite the investment.” Isabelle started back toward her car. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll catch you all some other time.”
“Bye, now,” Lexi said.
The car backed out onto the road. In that brief span of time, Tripp’s emotions upped from worried to pissed. What if Isabelle said more? What if Lexi asked other questions?
He left Ian’s side, quick-stepped to Lexi and wrapped her in a fierce hug, crushing his mouth to hers.
She dug in as he did, wrapping her arms around him. “Wow.”
“I need to tell you something.” Tripp laid his forehead against hers. “I—”
Ian shoved his shoulder. “Well, guys, let’s go in. I think you’ve got some final papers to sign and … stuff.”
Lexi angled back up toward Tripp. “What were you going to say?”
He glanced at Ian and got a head shake. “Ah … just that this is going to be a cool project. I wanted to thank you for showing me the house.” His heart strained with the lie, but he willed himself to withhold further information.
As they headed in, Tripp slipped the book to Ian.
• • •
Lexi spun in the middle of the empty living room. “I love this place.”
Tripp joined her, wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her in for a lover’s kiss. “You’re kidding, right?”
She backed away from him. “Not at all. This place has character. Yeah, it could use some touch-ups.” She flicked the corner of the stripe-mixed-with-flower patterned wallpaper. “It breathes life, Tripp. It’s made for families, for children running around at all hours of the day, for grandkids, for life.”
“And that’s what you want?” He leaned against the high mantel of the fireplace.
Lexi meandered his way. “I do.” They hadn’t broached the topic of family on their trip back from Savannah, sticking instead to more of the mundane. “What do you want, Tripp?” His hesitation pushed her forward. “You asked me to find you a house, and I found you this one. You bought it almost sight unseen. You said you trusted me, but if this is too much, then I understand. I’ll see what I can do, buy it from you and let you get back to New York.”
He shook his head. “I’m not ready for any of those conversations.”
“Well, at least you didn’t disappear.”
He smiled. “Back in Savannah, I let my body interpret it to mean more than it did so I could show you how my gift works. You know that, right?”
Thank god for Emma. “Of course.”
Tripp laughed, a hearty, full sound that bounced through the room.
“What?”
He encircled her with his arms and laid a kiss at the side of her mouth. “You are the worst liar I’ve ever met, Karen Jones.”
“Oh, good grief. How can you tell?”
“You hesitate, for one—gives me a chance to know you’re thinking.” He laid a line of kisses along her lips.
Lexi let her head fall back so he could move to her jawline and neck. “That’s so nice.”
“You know, this house is mine now, we could, ah—”
“Toodles!” A cheery voice broke through their foreplay.
“What the hell is my sister doing here?” Tripp released Lexi.
“Tripper!” She ran straight to Tripp, wrapping him in a hug, though she barely reached his shoulders.
He turned with her attached to him. “Lexi? This is my sister, Missy. Miss? This is Lexi Shepherd.”
Lexi took the hand of the pixie woman who stood no more than five feet tall and couldn’t have worn a size larger than a one. Despite her stature, her presence reflected an inner confidence and outward exuberance no one would miss. Her hair stuck out at all angles, as black as the crayons Lexi and Emma used to color with, but the blue of her eyes came from the same gene pool as Tripp’s.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Lexi smiled.
“Oh, you are a nice one, aren’t you?” Missy punched him in his good shoulder.
“What brings you to Rune, Missy?” Lexi asked.
Hands on hips, she said, “This guy—” She thumbed to Tripp who shrugged and mouthed ‘I don’t know’. “—didn’t tell me about his new house—”
“I just bought it three days ag—”
She stopped him with a glare, switching back to Lexi. “As I was saying … he failed to tell me, but I got the story from Ma, who got it from Ian, who told me he was here hanging with some blonde chick waiting for Tripp to come back.” Missy stopped, tilted her head at Lexi. “And Blondie looked an awful lot like you.”
“That would be Emma, my twin sister.”
“The coloring is all different.”
Despite the odd comment, Lexi found she liked Missy Fox. “Our parents call us exact opposites, but we’re far more alike in some areas of our lives than others.”
“Interesting.” Missy tapped a finger against her chin. “I can see why he likes you, but I have no idea about this place.” She dropped her bag on the floor, rifled through and withdrew a pad of blank paper and a pencil. “You’re going to need tons of help in here, Tripp. How in the hell did you find this place?”
“I guess you didn
’t hear the whole story.” He nodded to Lexi. “She’s my antithesis, my paradox, the—”
“Finder? Catcher? Go-getter?” Missy’s eyes lit, and she whooped like a Texas cowboy as she slapped her palm against Tripp’s chest. “No way! She found you? And this house for you?”
Lexi’s smile grew.
“I’m impressed, Lexi. Completely. I’ll bet this is your favorite place in the world, too.”
“Um, well, yeah, it is,” Lexi said.
“Sweet!” She hooted as she dug into her bag for a series of colored pencils. “Please, please, please let me do the design for the remodel. You are going to remodel, right?”
“It’s not mine to make that call. It’s his.” She beckoned to Tripp with her head.
“He leaves all his flats, apartments, condos, beach houses, whatever it is to me. Ian does, too. I’m building my own design firm outside D.C. Even got a contract on a Victorian there. I like to keep to the feel of the place, so not everyone likes my style. It has to suit the building, not just the people inside it.”
Emotion swelled within Lexi. She wanted to cry out that she, too, would love Missy to remodel it, but she held back.
The house belonged to Tripp.
“I can give you the history of the building, a feel for the previous owners, who were here for over fifty years, if that helps,” Lexi said.
Missy waved Tripp away. “He’ll write the checks. You just leave everything to me. When can I get started?”
• • •
“I’m here!” Emma’s voice carried from downstairs.
“Up here,” Tripp called back.
He and Lexi followed Missy from each room as Lexi gave her the history, timelines and details as she knew them. She described what George and Marge used each space for: she for sewing and reading, he for lounging and treasure hunting.
Lexi whirled, her hands at her lips. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Did you get one of those aha moments?” Tripp shifted to her as Ian and Emma stepped up to the second floor landing.
Lexi ran to the back room. She spun in a circle, her arms wide, a huge smile on her face. “George used to have all these maps, compasses and things in here. They were plastered all over the walls. I never put it together. They were still at it. Or he was. I don’t know exactly.” She paced from one side to the other, her hands running across the empty space. “World and US maps. A big one of Antarctica was right here.” She circled a spot near a window. “He even had a few on the ceiling.”
