TRACE (The TRACE Series, #1)

by Deborah Bladon

  "I'm not sure what my next step should be." I squeeze my hands together. I've been thinking about it since I boarded my flight back to New York this morning. It's not just that I feel as though I've hit an impasse. It's much more than that. I never questioned the scattered and disjointed facts about my adoption that my mother did share with me. I always imagined that her impatience and reluctance to talk about my birth parents was based on her need to hold me close to her. Now, after visiting Maine and learning that my adoption records don't exist, I feel more lost than I ever have before.

  "Maybe you need to talk to a lawyer," she suggests. "You don't happen to know one, do you?"

  Chapter 9

  "I can't tell you how glad I am that you called me, Vanessa." His eyes blaze across the table at me. "I've been hoping to get that call for months."

  I've been hoping to avoid the call for months. I had two choices when I realized that I needed to follow Zoe's advice and consult a lawyer about my adoption. I could confide in Garrett, but going to him with something so personal feels illogical given the fact that I don't even know him, or I could meet with Curtis, an entertainment lawyer I had sex with once when I was lonely and I was enamored with reruns of a courtroom drama. I realized in the middle of his missionary, jack hammering, fucking technique that not everything they say on television about lawyers is true.

  "I'm glad you could meet me on such short notice." I pull a smile out of somewhere.

  "I'd drop everything to help you." He reaches across the table to yank my hand into his. "I hope you know that."

  I know that hand sweat is an actual thing. Curtis is the poster boy for it. I'm going to need to retreat to the ladies' room to scrub my hands clean before I dive into the sandwich I ordered for lunch. "You're very kind," I offer back because I need to.

  I don't have room in my budget for a consultation fee with an attorney. I do have an appetite for lunch and an endless supply of forced smiles. If I can get Curtis to spell out for me what I need to do to find my birth parents, I can conveniently misplace his number again. I don't like using men, but Curtis owes me. At the very least, he owes me an orgasm or two so if I can cash that in for legal advice, I'm all for it.

  "You said on the phone that you needed some advice?" He picks up the linen napkin next to his place setting and snaps it in the air. It narrowly misses my nose.

  "It's about my adoption," I say tightly. "You remember that I told you I was adopted, right?"

  "I remember that." He glances at me with a wide smile. "I remember that and a lot more about you."

  The extra emphasis on the word 'you' is duly noted by my brain and my body. "I need some advice about that."

  "About you?" He sits up straighter in his chair. "My advice would be to start dating me again."

  That's advice I'll never take. I've learned, through much trial and error, that when a relationship isn't working, I can't pretend it is. Curtis and I dated for a few weeks and had sex once. I knew it was headed nowhere so I ended it as politely as I could. He took it well and surprisingly, when I called him yesterday to ask if we could meet for lunch, he excitedly suggested this restaurant close to his office.

  "Can we talk about the adoption, first?" I ask sweetly, knowing full well that there isn't going to be time to discuss anything beyond that. He made it clear, when we spoke on the phone, that he has exactly sixty minutes to spend with me. I'm counting on that because, right now, I realize it's all I can handle in one sitting.

  "What about it?" His blonde brows dart up.

  "I thought I was adopted in Maine." I trace a path along the edge of the table with my finger. "I went there to access my adoption records and there was nothing."

  "Nothing?" He bites on the edge of a piece of bread. "What do you mean nothing?"

  "The woman I met with at the registry office couldn't find any record of my birth." I fidget in my seat. "I don't think I was adopted there."

  He assesses me across the table. "I remember you telling me that your mother picked you up from the hospital in Augusta the day you were born."

  I don't need the reminder. My mother had said that, repeatedly, when I'd asked about my adoption. "She told me that."

  He leans back as the waiter approaches with our food. "That's tough, Vanessa. I don't know what to tell you from a legal standpoint."

  I was fearful of that. I'm not even sure why I arranged this meeting. "I was hoping there was something I could do."

  "I know you can't ask your mother," he begins before he shoves a forkful of salad into his mouth and chews it quickly. "If I was you I'd start with looking for any records she kept from that time. People her age usually have a safety deposit box. Sometimes they a shoe box under their bed with all their important documents."

  My lips purse together. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll see what I can find."

  "I hope you find something." He digs into his meal. "It must feel like shit not knowing where you came from."

  Chapter 10

  "I thought about talking to Beck about what's going on with you." Zoe leans forward on the stool she's sitting on. "I'm not sure you want me to do that though."

  I don't. I'd taken the advice Curtis gave to me literally. The problem was that without a power of attorney in place, the bank wouldn't give me access to my mother's safety deposit box. The bank manager wouldn't budge even when I explained the situation to her.

  I hadn't planned enough when my mother started to go downhill. I assumed there would be time or she'd find her way back to lucidity. I know she has a simple will in place, but that doesn't grant me any of the rights I need now to start searching for the answers to the questions about my adoption.

  "The legal system is bizarre." I take a sip of the glass of house red wine I'd ordered when I met Zoe at Easton Pub. "I can access everything that belongs to my mother once she's gone but for now, I'm stuck in legal limbo."

  "Legal limbo?" His voice wafts over my shoulder just as I catch of the startled look on Zoe's face. "I'm an expert at legal limbo."

  I knew when Zoe invited me to the pub tonight that the chances of Garrett walking in were slim to none. He may live nearby but the fact that I hadn't ever seen him in here before the other night offered a comforting reassurance that he doesn't stop in for a drink that often.

  "Zoe?" His hand brushes past my shoulder as he reaches out to her.

  "Garrett." She takes his hand in hers. "I know you."

  "I know you too," he says as I catch my first glimpse of him when he walks into my peripheral vision. "You used to work here."

  "You used to drink here." She taps her hand on the table. "Right here actually. Wasn't this your favorite table?"

  "It was because it was in your section." He motions towards the empty stool between us. "May I?"

  "Please, yes," she says too excitedly. "Van, this was my best customer."

  No, he was not. The world can't be this small. My best friend can't know Garrett Ryan.

  "This was my favorite server." He studies Zoe carefully. "You're pregnant?"

  "Pregnant and married." Her left hand proudly jumps into the air. "I married the man of my dreams and we're having a baby boy."

  "Christ." He leans forward on his stool and brushes his lips over her cheek. "That's the best news I've heard in a long time, Zoe. No one deserves that more than you."

  I finish the rest of the wine in my glass. "I need another drink."

  "More wine?" He waves his hand towards the server.

  "No. Get me a Tom Collins."

  ***

  "You need legal advice and I'm a lawyer." He pushes both his hands against the edge of the small table. "I'll even waive my retainer for you, Vanessa."

  It's a tempting offer. He's a probate attorney. He'd likely know better than anyone what I can do to gain access to my mother's safety deposit box but with his help comes an expectation. It won't be free. I already know that.

  "One of my friends is a lawyer." I look down at my half-empty glass. "I'll just ask him."<
br />
  "What kind of law does he practice?"

  "He works in entertainment," I blurt out without hesitation.

  "That's not going to work." He takes another swallow from the beer bottle in his hand. "He won't know shit about this."

  "You don't know shit about it either," I counter with a smile. "All you know is what you overheard me saying to Zoe."

  "I heard something about your mother and legal limbo." He tips the bottle towards me. "That adds up to a probate issue so I'm your guy."

  I know I should end this conversation before it takes another step forward but I made a promise to Zoe on the street in front of the pub an hour ago when she left. I told her I'd ask him what I could do to get power of attorney.

  "My mother is ill." I stop to look directly at him. "She has Alzheimer's."

  "Shit." His hand slides across the table to cover mine. "That's rough. I'm sorry to hear that."

  There's sincerity woven into the words so I continue. "I didn't think about legalities when she first became ill and now that her condition has worsened, I'm not sure what I can do."

  "You don't have a power of attorney in place?"

  "No," I shake my head lightly. "We didn't set that up."

  "Does she have a living will?"

  "Just a will." I heave a sigh. "It's a standard will she drew up years ago."

  He scrubs his hand over his forehead. "Is she aware at all at this point? Would she be able to read and understand a legal document?"

  She can't understand anything. "No. She wouldn't be able to do that."

  "I'd need to look at her will to see if there's anything that can be done to give you more control over her assets. We might be able to set you up as a conservator." He pulls his smartphone from his pocket before his thumb slides across the screen. "Let me check my schedule to see when you can come into the office."

  "I have the will at my apartment." I lean forward on the stool to glance at his phone. "I can stop by after work one day."

  "Can you show it to me now?" He stands quickly. "I can give you my opinion tonight so you won't have to wait."

  I hesitate only briefly before I slide to my feet and turn to face him. "Let's go. We can be there in ten minutes."

  Chapter 11

  "You're an only child?" He looks up from where he's sitting on the edge of my bed. "Your mother never married?"

  Diving into the details of my mysterious adoption, at this point, seems like it will only complicate this already complex legal puzzle I'm in. "It was always just the two of us."

  His gaze falls back down to the will. "It's very straightforward. Your mother's intentions are clear. You'll inherit everything once she..."

  "Yes, I assumed that much," I interrupt, wanting to not only save myself from hearing the word, but also from having him feel obligated to point out something that is already so glaringly obvious. "Is there anything I can do now to gain access to her safety deposit box?"

  "Is there something of importance in her safety deposit box?" His eyes scan my face. "Do you need to retrieve something from it for her now?"

  The question only reminds me of how horrified my mother would be if she knew that I'm searching through her things. She's always been very private and growing up, I was never allowed access to her dresser drawers. I was scolded more than once for stepping foot into her bedroom without her there. Looking back now, knowing that the details of my adoption aren't as straightforward as I thought, I can't help but wonder what secrets she was keeping from me.

  "I'm just trying to organize her things and I know she kept important documents in there," I lie as I shuffle nervously on my feet. "She may have left a note in there about what she wanted if she got sick."

  I can see the trust in my words when I look in his eyes. "You need to gain access to that box. I think I can help you do that."

  "Seriously?" I move forward without thinking. "You really think you can do that?"

  "I haven't told you this yet." He rests the will on my bed before he rises to his feet. "I'm the best probate attorney in the state."

  I smile at how arrogant the statement is. "You believe you're the best probate attorney in the state."

  "No." He leans forward so his lips are close to mine. "Google it, Vanessa. I'm the best. There's no question."

  I feel the familiar rush of heat run through me when he's this close to me. I twist my hands into the hem of the sleeveless black sweater I'm wearing. "Thank you for helping me with this, Garrett."

  "Vanessa." His finger catches my chin. "I'll get you what you need."

  I don't move as his lips brush softly across my forehead before he scoops the will back into his hand and walks straight out my bedroom door.

  ***

  "With the signed affidavit I got from Ben and your written plea, the judge didn't see any reason to refuse my request." He adjusts his suit jacket. "I told you I'd get you anything you need."

  I look down at my blue scrubs. I didn’t have a chance to change before Garrett texted me telling me to meet him at the bank. It's only been four days since he took the will but now, we're standing in the bank manager's office waiting for her to take me to the vault.

  "You look so nervous." He playfully pulls on my ponytail. "This is a step in the right direction."

  He can't know the gravity of his words. Our correspondence the last few days has been completely focused on my mother and the safety deposit box. I was grateful when he told me that Ben wanted to help.

  "Ms. Meyer." The bank manager breezes through the door, her eyes trained on Garrett. "Mr. Ryan, is it?"

  "Garrett," he corrects her as he reaches for her hand. "You received the package I had delivered earlier, yes?"

  "Yes." She nods a little too exuberantly. "We're more than happy to give Ms. Meyer the access she needs. We're here to help her."

  Bullshit. The woman couldn't be more insincere if she tried. What is it about lawyers that makes people cave instantly?

  "If you two will follow me, I'll take you back to the vault now."

  "I have to run." Garrett's hand jumps to my back. "I have a meeting in twenty minutes at my office."

  I feel an instant pit in the bottom of my stomach. I didn't want to do this alone and although Garrett wouldn't have been my first choice, he would be offering a sense of balance that I've been missing since I went to Maine.

  "You can't stay?" I look up at him. "I thought you were going to stay."

  "I'm sorry," His hand slides to my exposed neck. "I can cancel my meeting. If you need me to be here I can do that."

  "No." I trace a path over my bottom lip with my fingers. "I can do this. I'll be fine."

  "You're sure?" He leans down so his lips feather over my ear. "I'd cancel everything if you told me you needed me."

  I know they're the words of someone just wanting to help. I saw the pity in his eyes when I first told him about my mother's condition and I know it's there now too.

  "Please go." I tap him lightly on his chest. "I want you to go."

  I feel his chin brush against the top of my head as he nods. "I'm only a phone call away."

  The distance feels insurmountable the moment he turns to walk away but I don't stop him. I can't. I have to find out what my mother has been hiding from me all by myself.

  Chapter 12

  I knew when I called in sick today that unless I spoke to Ben, I'd be subjected to countless questions. I've never missed a day of work. I love being at the hospital. The energy there fuels me in a way nothing else does but today, right now, all I want is silence.

  The moment I came home from the bank last night, I'd hidden in my room with a purse full of my mother's things. I'd emptied the safety deposit box quickly, not wanting to sit in the sterile space to relive my mother's life.

  I'd held tight to my bag on the subway ride back to my building before I explained to Carla that I had a headache and only needed the solace that my bed could offer. I'd seen the look of doubt on her face, but she didn't argue. She'd gone out
for Italian food alone and hadn't checked in on me when she came home.

  I spent most of the night looking at the two pieces of jewelry that were kept in a small velvet bag in the box. There was a simple gold chain and a small bracelet made from colored rope. I'd cupped them in my palm and imagined my mother's face when she took them to the bank. Neither would hold any real value to anyone but her and it breaks my heart that I'll never understand their true significance.

  I'd tucked them back into the bag before I closed my eyes, not wanting to focus on the old, weathered spiral notebook that was hidden beneath insurance documents and savings bonds at the bottom of the box.

  I showered this morning, crying into the steam before I'd called Ben to tell him that I didn't feel well enough to cover my shift. He was understanding and compassionate. I know that he senses that there's something gnawing at me. I saw the concern in his eyes, yesterday, before I went to the bank.

  The moment I opened the notebook and read the first page, I felt as though I was drowning within my own sorrow. I'd tucked the notebook into my purse and had gone to sit in Central Park, hoping that the joyous cries of children playing and the visions of mothers cradling their children in their arms would wash away the blue inked confessions of my mother in that book.

  Now, hours later, I'm sitting at a table, the notebook resting in my lap, as I stare into the street beyond the glass of the pub's windows.

  "Vanessa?"

  I almost audibly sigh when I hear his voice. It's what I craved all day. I could have called Zoe and let her read what I read. I could have called Carla to tell her to rush home after work but I hadn't. I'd come here with the hope that he'd sense my need.

  "Garrett." I look up into his eyes. I see concern and confusion within them.

  "Ben told me you called in sick." He lowers himself onto the stool next to me. "I went to your apartment, but your roommate said you were out."

  I rub my index finger over the bridge of my nose. "I needed some air."