slipped from the room. Shayna rolled over, buried her face in his leather-scented pillow and let the tears come.
Chapter Thirteen
Chester returned from the deer camp early and agreed to move their appointment up. As she headed into town Thursday afternoon, Shayna rolled her windows down, enjoying the sunshine and crisp, clean air. The return of seasonal weather felt even better after the recent glimpse into winter’s bleariness.
Or perhaps the world sparkled brighter because she’d finally made peace with her past. She owed Kyle a huge debt for helping her put old hurts and resentments into perspective. He’d badgered at her and debated with her until she’d had no choice but to reopen old wounds and find ways to heal them for good.
A large chunk of her heart had flown back to L.A. with him Tuesday. But these past few days had given her time to sort through all the facts, all the advice and all the emotions of the past couple of weeks.
Late last night, all the answers she’d been seeking finally became clear. She knew now what she needed to do. She also knew exactly what she was and wasn’t willing to do. Her decision was a calculated risk, but it was also the right thing for her.
After scoring a parking spot in the town square, she made her way to the People’s Bank building. The four-story building housed most of the professional offices in Holcombe County.
Nelda Parker, Chester’s secretary, was seventy if she was a day, but the woman still dressed to impress. Not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb, Shayna had opted for one of her nicest dresses, but she still felt a bit frumpy in comparison to Nelda’s navy-and-pink power suit.
“Good morning, Nelda. You look gorgeous as usual.”
“Why thank you, dear. You look pretty spiffy yourself.”
Shayna ran a smoothing hand over the hip of her brown-and-gold wrap dress. “Thank you.”
Nelda stood, revealing a trendy pair of pink Crocs. “Chester said to show you right in, so follow me.”
Nelda ushered her into Chester’s large, masculine office. Once they’d dealt with the social niceties-everyone was in good health, the weather was wonderful and no one cared for coffee-Shayna got straight to the point.
“Chester, are you aware that James Miller wasn’t my natural father?”
“Yes dear, I am.” Her surprise must have registered, because he quickly elaborated. “Your Papa Joe and I used to play cards together. When James showed up with you in tow, I asked Joe how come he’d never mentioned becoming a grandfather. He told me then about James adopting you in Boston.”
She wanted to let the explanation go at that but knew Chester’s advice wouldn’t be worth much if he didn’t have all the facts.
“Actually, Daddy never officially adopted me. The courts granted him temporary custody just before Papa Joe got sick, and Daddy and I just never went back.”
“Are you worried about the validity of your inheritance, after all these years? Legal paperwork wouldn’t have changed y’alls relationship, dear. You were the light of James’s life.”
“I know that, but-” she filled him in on all the repeated calls to Boston CPS, her missing case files and the forged birth certificate.
“You and I both know that parents often abandon their children without releasing parental rights and those kids are never officially adopted. After all these years, and with no victim to atone to, I can’t imagine any judge in this country would be willing to hear a case against your daddy for forgery or fraud. Now, tell me what’s really got you this riled up.”
Not knowing exactly where to begin, she handed Chester a copy of the dreaded agreement. He adjusted his readers, turned on his desk lamp and started reading. By now, Shayna had read the darn thing so many times she practically had it memorized.
On page four, Chester “uh-huhed,” and Shayna charged to her feet, unable to sit still as doubts about her decision raced full tilt around her head. Finally, he finished the last page and looked up.
“Those Hollywood types sure do come up with some wild notions, don’t they.” Chester’s total lack of concern allowed Shayna to release the last of her doubts. Everything was going to work out. Not necessarily smooth and easy, but she didn’t mind a few bumps in the road.
“Yes, sir. They sure do, but I’ve got a few wild notions of my own now.”
“I figured you would. Let’s hear ’em.”
“What’s legalese for thanks, but no thanks?”
Travis and Lindy had urged forgiveness. Kyle had made a case for closure and moving on. She’d been fighting to keep her present safe from the past. Daddy had always insisted she follow the right path, no matter how bumpy the road. All the arguments had merit. They all had faults.
In the end, she’d found her solution somewhere in the middle.
Friday morning, Kyle pushed back his leather chair and paced his professionally decorated office, unable to concentrate on the case he’d been reviewing. He wedged a finger inside the neck of his perfectly tailored shirt, struggling against the urge to rip off his tie and unbutton his collar. The world and the clothes that had fit him so well just a week ago no longer felt comfortable.
As they’d done constantly since his return, his thoughts returned to Land’s Cross and Shayna. He couldn’t believe he’d left her without a word, but the words he’d been tempted to say were too dangerous. Too much stood between them to pretend they had a future. Even saying he’d call would have been wrong, because if he did, the conversation could only revolve around the case.
He expected her father, his biggest client, any minute now. Roscoe had been grudgingly patient with the delay in this case, but Kyle predicted Walker wouldn’t be so understanding. His client’s deadline was quickly approaching, and like any powerful man, Walker hadn’t gotten where he was by adhering to other people’s timetables.
A racket in the hall preceeded Amanda’s rushed entry, Roscoe and Walker hot on her heels. “Mr. Thomas and Dr. Walker are here to see you, Mr. Anderson.”
As Kyle pushed aside his personal concerns, the two men nearly bowled his secretary over in their rush to enter his office. Amanda, ever the professional, kept her expression serene and offered everyone coffee or water. They all refused.
She crossed to his desk and handed him an unlabeled folder. “This just came in for you, Mr. Anderson.”
“Thank you, Amanda.” Kyle made sure she understood he meant for far more than delivering a fax. She nodded her understanding, sent a meaningful glance at the papers she’d just delivered and then left.
Curious, Kyle took a quick peek and had to school his features not to reveal his surprise. It was a fax from Chester Warfield. He quickly scanned the short cover letter. Damn it. Shayna had turned down Walker’s offer. No counteroffer, no compromise, just a flat no.
Disappointment and confusion warred for dominance within him, but he tamped them both down. He needed to thoroughly review this paperwork before discussing it with his client, the very client that even now was staring daggers into Kyle’s chest.
Since said client obviously wasn’t in a patient mood, Kyle decided to shelve this matter until their next meeting. Putting on his game face, he tucked the papers back inside the folder and turned to welcome the two men.
The resemblance between Shayna and her biological father was eerie, especially the eyes. Walker’s were the same rich color and almond shape as Shayna’s; yet at first glance, they seemed lifeless, heartless. Then Walker blinked, and when his eyes reopened, they appeared warm, friendly. It made the resemblance even more striking.
“So, Anderson, how much longer until you have this little problem wrapped up?”
Hearing Shayna referred to as a “little problem” lit Kyle’s temper. Taking a deep breath, he moved back into the power position behind his desk and reminded himself that this man’s case was the key to his dreams. Soon, he would no longer be forced to work for scumbags like Dr. Steven Walker.
If he could talk some sense into Shayna before Walker got wind of what she’d done.
He dropped the folder onto his desk and waved Walker and Roscoe into the chairs facing him. “Gentlemen, have a seat.” He waited until they had complied before continuing. “As I told you yesterday, Ms. Miller has an appointment with her attorney this afternoon.” Or at least that was the last he’d heard. Obviously, he was working off old information. “We can’t move forward until we hear from them.”
