“I’ll have to look up some old contacts, but I can do it. It’ll take a few days.”
LuAnn stood up.
“What about Riggs?” Charlie asked. “The man’s not going to let it go now.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that. He doesn’t trust us and I don’t blame him.”
“Well, I doubt if he’ll do anything that’ll end up hurting you.”
She looked sharply at him. “How do you know that?”
“Look, LuAnn, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see Riggs has a thing for you.” A hint of resentment tinged his response. His tone softened, however, with his next words. “Seems like a nice guy. Under different circumstances, who knows. You shouldn’t spend your life alone, LuAnn.”
A flush swept over her face. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Lisa and I’ve got you. I don’t need anybody else. I can’t handle anybody else.” She looked away. How could she invite anyone into her life? It was impossible. Half truths competing with complete falsehoods. She was no longer a real person. She was a thirty-year-old shell, period. Everything else had been bartered away. Jackson had taken the rest of it. He and his offer. If she hadn’t made that call way back when. If she hadn’t panicked? She wouldn’t have spent ten years turning herself into the woman she always wanted to be. She wouldn’t be living in a million-dollar mansion. But as ironic as it sounded, she would probably have far more of a life than she had now. Whether it was to be spent in another wrecked mobile trailer or slinging fried foods at the truck stop, LuAnn Tyler, the pauper, would probably have been happier than Catherine Savage, the princess, ever dreamt of being. But if she hadn’t accepted the offer, Jackson would have had her killed. There was no way out. She turned back to Charlie and spread her arms wide.
“That’s the trade-off, Charlie. For this. For all this. You, me, and Lisa.”
“The Three Musketeers.” Charlie attempted a smile.
“Let’s pray for a happy ending.” LuAnn opened the door and disappeared down the hallway in search of her daughter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Mr. Pemberton.”
“John, please call me John, Mr. Conklin.” Pemberton shook the other man’s hand and they sat down at the small conference table in Pemberton’s real estate office.
“I go by Harry,” the other man said.
“Now you mentioned over the phone that you were interested in a house, but you really didn’t say what area or price range.”
Without seeming to do so, Pemberton looked Harry Conklin over. Probably in his sixties, expensive clothing, air of assurance, undoubtedly liked the good things in life. Pemberton swiftly calculated his potential commission.
“I got your name on good reference. I understand that you specialize in the upper-end market around here,” Conklin said.
“That’s correct. Born and raised here. Know everybody and every property worth knowing about. So would that be the price range you’re interested in? The upper end?”
Conklin assumed a comfortable look. “Let me tell you a little about myself. I make my living on Wall Street and it’s a damn good living if I do say so myself. But it’s also a young man’s game and I’m not a young man anymore. I’ve made my fortune and it’s substantial. I’ve got a penthouse in Manhattan, a place in Rio, a home on Fisher Island in Florida, and a country estate outside London. But I’m looking to get out of New York and radically simplify my life. And this place is about as beautiful as they come.”
“Absolutely right,” Pemberton chimed in.
“Now, I do a lot of entertaining, so it would have to be a substantial place. But I want privacy as well. Something old, and elegant, but restored. I like old things, but not old plumbing, you understand me?”
“Perfectly.”
“Now, I’m assuming that there are probably a number of properties around here that fit that bill.”
“There are. Most assuredly,” Pemberton said excitedly.
“But see, I’ve got one in mind. One I heard about from my father, in fact. He was in the stock market too. Back in the twenties. Made a bundle and was fortunate to get out before the crash. He used to come here and stay with a good friend of his who was in the market too. My father, God rest his soul, loved it there, and I thought it would be appropriate for his son to buy it and live in it.”