The Return of Jonah Gray (30 page)

IT TOOK A COUPLE OF MONTHS TO WORK UP MY NERVE
, but that May, I gave notice. Senior auditor was the highest rank I would reach at the IRS, and that was just fine. In the months since my father's death, I had tried to dive back into auditing with the same energy as before, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to keep people at a safe distance. I wanted to be out in the world. I wanted to get my hands dirty, even if I wasn't sure just how.

Just because I was good at auditing didn't mean that I was meant to audit. At sixty, my mother had started down a new career path. Who was to say that I couldn't? I was a different person than I'd been the year before. I belonged in a larger pot. Sure I'd never met Jonah Gray. Maybe I'd never meet him. But I'd learned a thing or two from the guy, and I was better for it.

Wherever I ended up, I'd keep the yew tree nearby. It had made itself very comfortable in my cubicle. I had already repotted it once, bringing in a bag of soil and a new container and managing to make a mess of the sink in the kitchenette. So much for forgetting to water it; it reminded me of my father too much. I wanted it to thrive.

At Fred Collins's request, I agreed to stay until June. The new cycle of audits had begun by then, and I was able to help my replacement get comfortable with the chaos. And so a month after I'd given my notice, I was finally and absolutely cleaning out my double-wide cubicle. My books were already at home with my calculator, ledger pads, mug of pens and picture of Kurt and his boys. The cubicle I'd spent so much of my working life in was now empty, save the government-issue furniture I'd happily leave behind and the yew tree, which would leave the building when I did.

I didn't have much to do but wait until the day ended. I said my goodbyes to people, hung out in the kitchenette and filled out my final pieces of paperwork for a sad-eyed Ricardo. At four o'clock, Fred caught me in the hallway.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked.

“You've got me for another hour. What do you need?”

“I agreed to oversee a call-in audit. Would you mind sitting in on it?”

“You need a witness?” I asked. Sometimes, auditors brought in witnesses, usually when they were worried an auditee might become violent during the interview.

“It couldn't hurt,” Fred said. “If you're not doing anything else.”

“A call-in, huh? What's the story?”

There were three ways individuals could find themselves audited by the IRS. There were random compliance audits. There were audits generated when certain numbers veered too far from the mean. And there were audits prompted by a call to the IRS fraud hotline.

I'd always wondered about the motives behind the hotline calls. Some were surely the work of honest citizens who felt a civic obligation to report money laundering or evasive schemes. But some no doubt stemmed from spurned exes, retaliatory colleagues or jealous relatives. There was a screening process to all of them, but whoever had reported Fred Collins's auditee must have made a believable accusation or just said the right things to get an investigation started.

I followed Fred into his office. At his table sat a handsome, dark-haired man I didn't recognize. He looked about my age, and he was reading one of Fred's tax manuals. At first, I wondered if he was a new employee. Just my luck that Fred would manage to hire an attractive auditor only after I left.

As soon as the man noticed us, he put the tax manual back on Fred's shelf. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I was killing time, but I got sucked in. I didn't realize there were so many options for innocent spouse relief. That's awfully understanding of you guys.” He smiled then, and his green eyes lit up. I liked him immediately, but it was clear that he was no auditor. Still, he seemed familiar. I wondered if I had met him before.

“I wanted to bring in someone more familiar with your file,” Fred said. “We might get you out of here more quickly that way.”

“Who else are you bringing in?” I asked my soon-to-be ex-boss. I wondered what Green Eyes had done to require the attentions of three of us. He didn't appear particularly evasive. Instead he seemed welcoming and easy going, down to his work boots and jeans with dirt at the knees. Suddenly, he stood and looked at me. He began smiling broadly.

“You're the one who knows my file? Are you Jeffrine Hill?”

I froze. Only one person could have asked that question, and with that voice. No wonder he seemed familiar.

“Who's Jeffrine Hill?” Fred asked. “This is Sasha Gardner. She oversaw your audit last year.”

“
You're
Sasha Gardner?”

“You're Jonah Gray?” I asked. But it had to be. Now I placed the voice, at once interested and amused. So this is what he looked like. Exactly as I'd hoped he would. Exactly as I'd imagined him. But how? And me, with no time at all to prepare. “What are you doing here?” I managed to ask.

“I'm being audited,” he said. He smiled, as if it didn't bother him in the least. “Again.”

I looked from Jonah to Fred Collins. “
He's
the call-in?”

“I guess someone turned him in,” Fred said.

“But we didn't find any fraud last year. Not willful.”

Who would have reported him? I wondered. Who would have been mad enough, or self-righteous enough, to do that? Could it have been his ex-wife, all the way from Argentina? A rival gardener? A disgruntled
Stockton Star
reader? Everyone liked Jonah Gray. He was one of the good ones.

“So I guess Jeffrine doesn't work here anymore,” Jonah said. “I tried calling, but I was told that she moved to Fresno. You don't happen to have her phone number, do you?”

“Who is Jeffrine Hill?” Fred asked again.

“Ms. Gardner's assistant. Last year at least,” Jonah said.

“You had an assistant?” Fred asked.

“Fred, could we have a moment, please? I'd like to go over a few things with Mr. Gray, uh, regarding his file from last year.”

“Be my guest,” Fred said, and he left us alone in his office.

“So you're Sasha Gardner,” Jonah said. “Wow, you're not at all what I was expecting. Hey listen, I'm really sorry all those people harassed you like that.”

“Oh, that. It's fine. Really.”

“I wrote to you. I don't know if you got—”

“I did. I meant to thank you for that. I should have.”

“Well, you're welcome. Listen, can I ask if Jeffrine—”

“No wait!” It came out as more of a bark than I intended. “I can't talk about her. I've got a few things I feel I should tell you.” I took a deep breath. Unprepared or not, I knew I didn't have much time. “I went by your house once, and I talked to your father.”

“You met my dad? In Stockton? When?”

“Last August. I was up there to see my brother and I took a bike ride. It's a long story, but I took a bunch of random turns and then a couple not so random ones and I ended up at your house. I'm sorry about the oak tree, by the way. That must have been tough.”

Jonah nodded. “My grandfather planted that tree when my dad was born. Kind of hard to see it go.”

“I realize that my actions were inappropriate and if you want to submit a formal complaint, I can give you the forms to do that.”

Jonah waved me off. “My dad thought you were one of the Potter girls,” he said. “He must have talked about you for a week. Were you with a kid or something?”

“My five-year-old nephew.”

“Wow. Gutsy play,” Jonah said. “Dad told me to invite you back, but none of the Potters knew what I was talking about. I thought he must have imagined you.”

“You wish,” I said.

“I don't,” Jonah said, smiling.

I didn't know what else to say. I knew that I should tell him that I was Jeffrine, but I couldn't. It seemed okay to shoulder my share of the blame, but I didn't want to erase whatever positive memories he might have of her—or me. Whichever.

“How are things at the
Stockton Star?
” I asked.

“My job? It's fine. They keep me busy.”

“Think you'll ever go back to Tiburon?”

“I guess that would depend on why,” he said.

I was trying hard to keep my professional demeanor intact. I just wanted to smile at him and smile again. After all this time, I was talking to Jonah Gray, face-to-face.

“Are you keeping this?” I looked up to see Fred, standing in the doorway of his office, my yew tree in his hands. “Or were you going to leave it for your replacement?”

“I'm keeping it,” I said.

“Because I'd take it,” he said. “If you didn't want it.”

“It's not a giveaway, Fred.”

Fred shrugged and disappeared again with the little tree.

“Nice yew,” Jonah said. Only I heard “Nice you,” which I took to be some sort of endearment.

“You seem awfully nice yourself,” I said. “Though I didn't expect to meet you this way. I would have liked a little more warning, you know, to prepare.”

“I said I like your yew tree.”

“Oh. Right. The tree.” I was embarrassed. “Did you know that years ago, the yew was known as the tax tree?” I asked, trying to distract him.

“I did indeed,” he said.

“My mom ended up with a lot of plants back in January. I figured I'd try to turn over a new leaf, so to speak.”

“Well, it's thriving. This is the exact home I would have wanted for it.”

“How do you mean?”

“I grew that tree.”

“
You
grew it? My tree?”

“For the first two years.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I sent it to Lola when your father died.”

I froze. “You know my mother? And that she's my mother?” It was not what I'd expected to hear.

Jonah smiled. “She mentioned Virginia in one of her posts on my Web site, and we got to corresponding. I'm originally from Roanoke, but I think you must already know that.”

I nodded.

“And once I realized that she was my auditor's mother…I'll give her credit—the things she said about you, she made me realize I probably judged you a little quickly. You know, based on your job. That's kind of why I didn't send Linda Potter in today.”

“You just made it. This is my last day.”

“Really? I guess I can thank Fred Collins for getting me onto your schedule then.”

“There was a Jeff Hill.” Speaking of Fred, he was back again, now holding a staff directory. “But no Jeffrine. I feel like I would have remembered that name. Sasha, didn't you date Jeff Hill for a while?”

“Aren't we supposed to be focusing on Mr. Gray's audit?” I asked.

“Call me Jonah,” Jonah said. “I'm not in a hurry. I took the whole day off.”

Fred stuck a return in front of me. “I just need you to vet this. Since you covered it last year.”

There was a knock on Fred's door. It was Cliff, the auditor from the far side of my cubicle.

He waved. “Hey, Sasha, thanks again for that info on loopers. That spray is working great. Fred, can I see you for a minute?” Cliff asked. Fred excused himself yet again.

When I turned back to Jonah, he wore a strange look.

“What?” I asked.

“I'm such an idiot.”

“No,” I started to say. “You're not an idiot. You're nothing close.”

“You probably thought that was pretty funny,” he said. “Me asking about Jeffrine like that. Pretty hilarious.”

“No,” I said again.

He frowned. “Do you do that with all your audits? Make up a fake persona to try to get to the person? Try to get them to open up and unveil their secrets or something?”

“No. I've never—not before you.”

“I feel so special.” He sounded sarcastic.

“You were,” I agreed. “You are.”

“Why did you pretend to be her? Why would you do that?”

I felt my cheeks burning. This is what I was unprepared for. I'd just have to dive in. “Because you wouldn't have talked to me otherwise. Not the way you did. You wouldn't have opened up like that. And once you opened up—”

“You figured you could stick it to me?”

“No. I just wanted to keep you open. You talked to me like you were actually interested in the same stupid things I was interested in.”

“You said you liked manatees. What was I supposed to do?”

“See?” I asked.

But Jonah was still frowning. Finally, he looked up. “I don't know what to tell you. I feel like I don't know what to believe. I feel like a dupe.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.