The Liar (18 page)

“Name me five birds indigenous to the Smokies.” Forrest waited two beats while Privet scowled. “See, you could say that bird, it won’t fly. I tell my boss, and we tell Judge Harris—who’s a third cousin, twice removed—that you’ve been sitting here watching my family home and my sister, been following her and her little girl around town, been asking questions about my widowed sister with her fatherless child, you think he’s going to say, ‘Why, that’s just fine. Live and let’? Or do you think you’ll be spending the night on a jailhouse cot tonight instead of your hotel bed?”

“My client isn’t the only one Matherson swindled. And there’s a matter of nearly thirty million in jewelry he stole out of Miami.”

“I believe you. I believe he was a fucking bastard, and I know he did a number on my sister I won’t forget. I’m not going to let you do the same.”

“Deputy, do you know what the finder’s fee is on twenty-eight million?”

“It’s going to be zero,” Forrest said equably, “if you’re looking for it through my sister. You stay away from her, Mr. Privet, or you’ll have plenty of the trouble you don’t want to have, because if I catch you at it, I’ll make sure of that trouble. You can tell your client we’re all sorry for his bad luck. If I were you, I’d head back to Florida and do just that. Tonight. But it’s your choice.”

Forrest straightened up again. “We clear on that?”

“We’re clear on that. I’ve got one question.”

“Ask it.”

“How could your sister live with Matherson for years and not know what he was?”

“Let me ask one back. Is your client a reasonably intelligent individual?”

“I’d say he is.”

“How did he manage to get himself swindled? You’re going to want to move along now, and you don’t want to drive back down this road again. That’s literal and metaphorical.”

Forrest walked back to his truck, waited until Privet drove away. Then he drove himself the short distance to his family home, parked so he’d be there when Shelby told the family her story.

C
onfessions and truth telling exhausted the body and the brain. When Shelby dragged herself out of bed in the morning, she realized she’d start her day already worn down.

It was hateful to disappoint the people who’d raised you. She thought of Callie, wondered if one day she’d do something stupid and wake up with this same dragging sensation.

Odds were pretty good on that, so Shelby vowed to remember this morning, and to try to give her daughter a break when the time came.

She found Callie, still luckily too young to do something really stupid, sitting in bed having a cheerful conversation with Fifi. So Shelby dived in for a morning snuggle that pulled her mood up a notch or two.

She got them both dressed, then took Callie downstairs.

She put on the coffee, decided she’d make up some of the ground she’d lost with her parents the night before by making French toast—and the poached eggs her father favored.

By the time her mother came down, she had Callie settled in her booster with some sliced banana and strawberries, with breakfast well on the way.

“’Morning, Mama.”

“’Morning. All bright and early, I see. ’Morning, my sunbeam,” she said to Callie, and crossed over for a kiss.

“We get to have eggy bread, Gamma.”

“Do we? Why, that’s a special morning treat.”

“Nearly done,” Shelby told her. “I’m poaching some eggs for Daddy. Do you want any?”

“Not this morning, thank you.”

When Ada Mae walked over to pour coffee, Shelby turned, wrapped her arms around her mother from behind. “You’re still mad,” she murmured.

“Of course I’m still mad. Mad doesn’t turn off and on like a light.”

“Still pretty mad at me.”

Ada Mae sighed. “That part’s on a dimmer switch. It’s easing down some.”

“I’m so sorry, Mama.”

“I know you are.” Ada Mae patted Shelby’s hand. “I know. And I’m trying to come around to it being the situation you were in, and not that you didn’t trust your family to help you.”

“It was never that. Never. I just . . . I got myself into it, didn’t I? Somebody raised me to face my own troubles and deal with them.”

“Seems we did a fine job there. But not as fine a one on teaching you troubles shared are lessened.”

“I was ashamed.”

Now Ada Mae turned, took Shelby’s face firmly in her hands. “You’re never,
never
to be ashamed with me.” She glanced over to where Callie was busy with her sliced fruit. “I could say a lot more, and likely will when there aren’t little pitchers with big ears close by.”

“Pitchers don’t have ears, Gamma! That’s silly.”

“It is, isn’t it? Why don’t I fix you a piece of this eggy bread your mama’s made up.”

Clayton came down, dressed for the day in one of his habitual white shirts tucked tidily into his khakis. He walked to Shelby, gave her a knuckle rap on the head, then kissed it.

“Looks like a weekend breakfast in the middle of the week.” He got out a mug. “Sucking up?” he asked Shelby.

“I am.”

“Good job.”

•   •   •

S
HE DID HER BARTER DAY
with Tracey and took the girls to the park so Emma Kate could come by, have a little picnic with them on her lunch hour and finally meet Callie.

“When I was a little girl, Emma Kate was my very best friend, like you and Chelsea.”

“Did you have tea parties?” Callie asked Emma Kate.

“We did, and picnics just like this.”

“You can come to Gamma’s house for a tea party.”

“I would absolutely love to.”

“Gamma saved Mama’s tea set so we can use it.”

“Oh, the one with the violets and little pink roses?”

“Uh-huh.” Callie’s eyes rounded owlishly. “We have to be careful not to break it ’cause it’s deliquit.”

“Delicate,” Shelby corrected.

“Okay. We’re going to swing now. Let’s go swing, Chelsea!”

“She’s beautiful, Shelby. Beautiful and bright.”

“She’s all of that. She’s my very best thing. Emma Kate, do you have some time after work? There’s some things I still need to tell you. Just you.”

“All right.” Since she’d been expecting this—or hoping for it—Emma Kate already had a plan. “We could take a hike up to the Outlook like we used to. I’m off at four today, so I could meet you at the trailhead at maybe four-fifteen.”

“That’d be perfect.”

Emma Kate watched Callie run around the swings with Chelsea. “If I had somebody like that depending on me, there’s a lot I’d do I wouldn’t do otherwise.”

“And a lot you don’t do you would do otherwise.”

“Mama! Mama! Push us. Push us, Mama! I want to go high!”

“Takes after you,” Emma Kate commented. “You could never swing high enough.”

With a laugh, Shelby stood up. “I’m sticking closer to ground level these days.”

As she got up to help push the girls on the swing, Emma Kate thought that was a real shame.

•   •   •

S
HE MANAGED TO SQUEEZE OUT
some time to start a playlist, to pump a fist in the air when the consignment shop reported the sale of two cocktail dresses, an evening gown and a handbag. She adjusted her spreadsheet, calculated that she might be able to pay off another credit card with one more good sale.

She organized herself for the next day, her first day working at the salon, then pulled out her old hiking boots—ones she’d kept tucked away in her closet so Richard couldn’t insist she toss them out.

She dropped Callie off at Clay’s for a visit with Jackson as arranged and watched her daughter happily exploring her cousin’s little backyard fort before driving to the trailhead.

More she’d missed, she thought as she parked and got out. The quiet that let you hear birds calling and the breeze singing through the trees. The sharp smell of pine on air fresh and just cool enough. She hooked on her light pack—something else she’d tucked away from Richard.

She’d been taught from childhood to always carry water and some basics even on a short, easy hike. Cell service could be spotty—at least it had been the last time she’d taken this trail—but she’d tucked her phone in her pocket like always.

She didn’t want to be more than a call or text away from her daughter.

She’d bring Callie here, she thought, take her along the trail, point out the wildflowers, the trees, maybe spot a deer or a scurrying rabbit.

Teach her how to identify bear scat, she thought, smiling as she calculated Callie was just the right age to find that idea thrillingly disgusting.

She looked up at the clouds that skimmed over the tops of the higher hills. She might take her daughter on an overnight. Pitch a tent, show her the pleasure of sleeping out under the stars on a good, clear night, and telling stories around a campfire.

This was the true legacy, wasn’t it? The years traveling from place to place, the time in Atlanta, in Philadelphia, that was some other world altogether. If Callie chose one of those worlds, or another entirely, she’d have these roots to return to whenever she wanted.

She’d always have family in the Ridge, and a place to come home to.

Shelby turned when she heard the car, looked back, looked out to take in the view of the town rising and falling with the hills. And despite knowing she’d have to go through yet another painful confession, smiled when Emma Kate parked beside her.

“I almost forgot how beautiful it is here, just right here, with the town on one side, the trail on the other, so you can choose what you want and just go.”

“Matt and I hiked up to Sweetwater Cave the first time he came back with me. I wanted to see what he was made of.”

“That one’s a quad killer. How’d he do?”

“I’m still keeping him around, aren’t I? You’ve still got those hiking boots?”

“Broke in just right.”

“So you always said. Finally traded mine in last year. I try to get in a hike once or twice a week. Matt, he joined the gym over in Gatlinburg as he’s one for weights and machines. He’s making noises about finding a place to build one in the Ridge so he doesn’t have to drive all that way. Me, I’d rather just take the trail, and maybe fit in one of the yoga classes your granny’s got going on Saturdays at the day spa.”

“She didn’t say anything about that.”

“She’s got a lot going. We’d better get going, too, if we’re going to hike up to the Outlook.”

“Our favorite spot to talk about boys and parents and what annoyed us.”

“Is that what we’re doing now?” Emma Kate asked as they began to walk.

“In a way, I guess. I’ve come clean, you could say, with my family. You always were my family, too, so I’m going to come clean with you.”

“Are you running from the law?”

With a laugh, and because it felt right, Shelby took Emma Kate’s hand, gave their arms a swing. “Not the law, but it feels like I’ve been running from everything else. I’ve stopped now.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I’ve told you some. Now I’m going to tell you the rest. It started after Richard died. It all started before, but you could say it all fell on top of me after.”

She filled in pieces she’d left out, backtracking when Emma Kate blurted out questions. The climb steepened, winding up, making her legs ache in a good way. She caught sight of the rich feathers of a bluebird winging through some wild dogwood with its buds just peeking open, waiting, just waiting, to burst out full white.

The air cooled as they climbed, and still she felt the good, light sweat of the physical challenge on her skin.

It was easier, she realized, to say it all here, out in the open, where the hills carried her words away.

“First, I’m still not used to having somebody I know millions of dollars in debt—and it’s not your debt, damn it, Shelby.”

“I signed the loan papers on the house, at least I guess I did.”

“Guess?”

“I don’t remember signing any loan, but he’d push papers in front of me now and then, ‘Sign this, it’s nothing.’ I think half the time he just signed my name himself. I could maybe have gotten out of it if I’d gone through the court process or just tossed it all in and declared bankruptcy. I wasn’t going to do that. When the house sells, and it will, that’ll take the big weight off. And until it does, I’m chipping away.”

“Selling clothes?”

“I’ve made nearly fifteen thousand on clothes so far—not counting the fur coat I took back with the tags still on it—and I might make that much again before it’s done. He had a hell of a lot of suits, and I had things I never even wore. It was a different world, Emma Kate.”

“But your engagement ring was a fake.”

“I guess he didn’t see the point in putting a real diamond on my finger. He never loved me, I see that now. I was useful to him. I’m not altogether sure how, but I must’ve been useful.”

“Finding that safe-deposit box. That hardly seems possible.”

Looking back, she could see she’d been tilting at windmills. But . . . “I was on a mission. You know how it is.”

“I know how you are when you’re on a mission.” As the sun changed angles, Emma Kate adjusted the bill of her cap. “All that cash in there, and that doesn’t even get to the other identification.”

“He couldn’t have come by it legal. I’ve had some moments over that, but I didn’t steal it, or swindle it, and I’ve got Callie to consider. If it comes down to having to pay that back sometime, I’ll deal with it. For now, I’ve got some tucked away in the bank, and when I can see my way clear, I’m going to use it to get us a little house.”

“What about this private detective?”

“He’s wasting his time with me. I have to figure he’ll come to that on his own, or Forrest persuaded him.”

“Forrest can be persuasive.”

“He’s still mad at me, at least a little. Are you still?”

“It’s hard to be when I’m more fascinated.”

They walked in silence, along the familiar trail.

“Was the furniture really that ugly?”

Amused her friend would zoom in on that, Shelby laughed. “Uglier. I wish I’d taken pictures. It was hard and slick, and dark and angular. I always felt like I was visiting in that house, and couldn’t wait to get out of it. He never made the first payment, Emma Kate. By the time he died, the bank had already sent out notices I hadn’t seen.”

She paused to open her water bottle. “I’m thinking now he was in trouble. Something in Atlanta, maybe. So he wrangled that big house up North without telling me that, either. Set it all up, then told me we were moving, he had some business opportunities. I went along. I guess that’s one way I was useful. I went along. Looking back, it’s hard to imagine how many times I did.

“I don’t even know who he was. I can’t say for sure I even knew his name. I don’t know now what he did, how he made the money he had. I just know none of it was real—not my marriage, not the life we lived.”

She stopped at the Outlook, felt her heart lift.

“This is what’s real.”

She could see for miles, the roll and rise of that deep, secret green, the dips of the valleys cupped between the rises—delicate as her old tea set. And the carpeted peaks swimming into the clouds so full of mystery and silence.

The light had gone soft as the afternoon wound down. She thought of how it looked at sunset, all brushed with gold, little tips of fire red as the mountains went to gray.