“Much better,” Shaw said. He seemed pleased to be able to say it. “Mom’s proud of the fact that I’m attending on a full scholarship, and Dad’s actually coming around. I’ve emailed them some of my work and I keep in touch. I’ll be with the family tonight for this big dinner Mom’s cooking.”
Tanni thought that was a good idea.
“Would you like to drop by Will Jefferson’s place with me?” he asked.
Apparently Shaw could tell that she wouldn’t be having any cozy chats with him.
“I don’t have any other plans for a while,” Tanni said, keeping her voice casual. “I can drive.”
His eyes widened. “When did you get your license?”
She’d texted him the day she’d passed her driver’s test. Obviously he hadn’t taken the trouble to read it. Rather than berate him, or remind him that he should know, she shrugged. “A while back.”
“Hey, it’s great that you’ve got wheels,” he said enthusiastically.
Again, she pretended it was no big deal, but in actuality her whole life had undergone a transformation. Now that she had her license, she felt a new sense of freedom and independence. She felt like an adult.
They left the house, and during the short drive to the gallery, Shaw dominated the conversation, acting as if hardly anything had changed between them. He was animated, telling her tale after tale of friends he’d made in art school. He didn’t seem to notice that she said almost nothing.
He avoided mentioning any of the girls he’d met, although Tanni knew he hung around with several. One name in particular stood out—Mallory, Marcie…something like that. Tanni briefly considered bringing up Jeremy, but decided against it.
Tanni parked down the street from the gallery. The place looked attractive; Will Jefferson had done some work recently, refreshing the outside with a coat of white paint and arranging large baskets of red geraniums in front. He’d redesigned the inside earlier, with new display cases and glass enclosures. Will had put a lot of money into the renovation, and it showed.
When they walked into the gallery, Shaw’s eyes went immediately to the wall where her mother’s dragon quilt was displayed. There was no denying that “Death” was a masterful piece of work.
She hadn’t fully appreciated the skill involved in the creation of fabric art, and this piece in particular, until Will Jefferson had hung it on his wall. To Tanni, that dragon breathed life—and death—and spoke of grief, love, passion. It captivated the attention of all who saw it. She knew there’d been numerous offers to buy it but the work wasn’t for sale.
Will stepped out from his office, and when he saw them, he smiled. “Shaw,” he said, holding out his hand as he advanced toward them. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Mr. Jefferson.”
They shook hands and then Will turned to Tanni. “Great to see you, too.” He looked around as though he expected her mother to be with them.
Tanni smiled and out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. Someone else was in the gallery.
“Hello, Tanni,” Miranda Sullivan greeted her, emerging from the back room a moment later. “What’s your mother up to this afternoon?”
“She’s with Larry.”
Will Jefferson stiffened noticeably. “Larry Knight’s in town?” he asked, and he didn’t sound pleased to hear it.
“I flew in with him,” Shaw told them. “It was a chance to reconnect with friends,” he said pointedly, glancing in Tanni’s direction. “I wanted to see you, too, so you’d know your faith in me was justified. If you speak to Larry, he’ll tell you I’ve done well in each of my classes so far.”
Will hardly seemed to hear him. “Has your mother been seeing a lot of Larry?” he asked Tanni.
“Well…” She wasn’t sure how to respond and looked to Miranda for help. As her mother’s friend, Miranda had encouraged the relationship with Larry—not that her mother needed much encouragement.
“Larry and Shirley are grateful for your introduction, Will,” Miranda said smoothly, coming toward them. “They have a great deal in common, you know.”
Will frowned. “Really.” The comment was more sarcasm than affirmation.
“I believe they might be stopping in later,” Miranda added.
Tanni recalled that Larry had said something about that.
“Here?”
“Yes,” Miranda said. “Larry wants to see the red dragon piece.”
Tanni hadn’t heard that, but it made sense. Larry had only seen photographs of the massive fabric hanging, which had been featured in several newspaper and magazine articles. “That’s not a problem, is it?” she asked Will.
“Not for me, it isn’t,” Will muttered. He turned to Miranda as though he thought she could supply more information.
Shaw had apparently become aware of the tension in the room. Moving closer to Will, he said, “I want to let you know again how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
Will nodded absently.
“Will,” Miranda said. “Shaw just thanked you.”
He broke out of his stupor. “Right. My pleasure,” he said without emotion. “Stop in anytime.”
“I will,” Shaw returned, looking puzzled.
It seemed they were being dismissed; Will Jefferson all but hustled them out the door. Tanni met Miranda’s eye and the other woman shrugged as if to say she didn’t understand it, either. One thing was clear. Will Jefferson didn’t like the fact that Tanni’s mother was seeing Larry Knight.
Tanni smiled inwardly as she headed toward the parked car, with Shaw behind her. If Mr. Jefferson needed help getting over her mother, maybe Tanni would suggest he talk to Kristen.
“Well…nice seeing you again,” she told Shaw when they reached the car.
“We…we aren’t going back to the house?”
“No, sorry. I’m meeting up with a friend.”
“Oh.” The word was weighted with disappointment.
“Jeremy and I have plans.”
“Jeremy?” Shock reverberated in his voice as he repeated the other boy’s name.
Tanni grinned. “Oh, honestly, Shaw, you didn’t think you were the only guy in my life, did you?”
Thirty-One
“Can you talk?” Mack asked urgently.
Placing one hand over the receiver, Mary Jo glanced toward her boss’s office. Allan was with a client, and the meeting would probably go on for a while.
“I guess,” she said. “For a few minutes.” She rarely took personal calls at work. The fact that Mack had phoned her meant it was important. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, not at all.” He paused. “I just finished talking to my dad and he wants to see us right after work.”
Mary Jo waited. “Did he find out anything?” she prodded. “About Jacob?”
“He must have.”
Mary Jo was too excited to sit still. “I knew we made the right decision when we asked him for help.” They’d tried to track down Jacob Dennison on their own. Roy, however, was the one with experience. People hired him to do this; he was the expert and they were amateurs.
“I’ll pick you up at the house after work, okay?”
“I’ll have to get Noelle before we go over to your father’s.”
“Can I get her? That’ll save time.”
“Okay, I’ll phone Kelly and let her know.”
“Thanks.”
The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Mary Jo didn’t think she’d ever been more anxious for a workday to end. At precisely five, she leaped out of her seat like a jack-in-the-box and reached for her purse.
“See you in the morning, Mr. Harris,” she called out.
Her boss came to the doorway between their two offices. “You seem to be in a hurry this evening.”
“I am,” she said. “I think Mack’s father might have some information about that World War II soldier I mentioned a while back. Roy offered to help us.”
“Interesting. Update me when you can.”
“Will do,” she promised. True, it might be another dead end, but she had a feeling there was more.
Mack was in his truck, waiting for her, as she pulled into the driveway at home.
“Where’s Noelle?” she asked immediately.
“Mom has her. She claims she needs grandma practice. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all.” Actually, she was touched that Corrie wanted to spend time with Noelle.
They rode in silence for a couple of blocks. “Aren’t you excited?” she asked.
Mack grinned. “Yes, what about you?”
“Oh, Mack, I can hardly stand it. Did your father tell you anything?”
“No, he just said he’d uncovered some information he thought we’d want to hear.”
“How did he sound?”
“Sound?”
“Was he happy? Sad? Did his tone of voice give anything away?”
“Not really. But that’s my dad. Always keeps his cards close to his chest.” Mack parked in front of the office. Mary Jo jumped out, not waiting for him to open her door or give her his hand. He met her on the sidewalk. “You ready?”
“O-o-oh, yes. You?”
“Ready,” he said, and held open the door.
Mary Jo entered the investigator’s office and glanced curiously around. She’d never been inside before. The reception area had a sofa and a chair, with magazines neatly fanned out on the adjoining end tables. The door leading to Roy’s private office was ajar and he waved them in.
“What’ve you got, Dad?” Mack slipped into a visitor’s chair and Mary Jo took the one next to him.
Roy tipped back his own chair. “The other night Mary Jo pointed out that Jacob might not be Dennison’s given name.”
“So he had another name?” Mary Jo asked breathlessly, leaning forward in her eagerness.
“No. His name’s Jacob. That was an excellent theory but it didn’t go anywhere.”
“Dad!” Mack warned. “Just tell us what you found.”
Roy grinned sheepishly. “I was right. He was taken captive by the Germans.”
“He was a POW?”
Roy nodded. “Apparently Jacob was captured in the first few days after the invasion and sent by train into the heart of Germany.”
Mack was leaning forward now, too. “Did he survive the war?”
Roy nodded again. “Amazingly, he did.”
Mack and Mary Jo exchanged glances. Next came the question that burned inside them both.
“Is it possible that…he’s still alive?” she whispered.
The wide grin that broke out across Roy’s face was answer enough. “He is—alive and kicking.”
“Wow,” Mack said. He reached for Mary Jo’s hand and squeezed it hard.
“Where’s he living? Is there any chance we can meet him? I’d love to ask him about Joan. Can we talk to him?” Mary Jo stopped to take a breath.