her question.
“That would make Dad especially proud,” he said mockingly.
“John Barrett is dead, Jack,” she said bluntly. “There’s no reason for you to keep trying to please the man now.”
John Barrett. For years just the mention of the name had been enough to make corporations shake in their boots. No business large or small wanted to face the formidable lawyer in the courtroom.
From the time Jack had been a small boy he’d been groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Generations of Barretts before him had built the firm of Barrett, Winslow and Layton. Jack was expected to keep it going. Nothing else would have been acceptable in the eyes of his father.
“I didn’t call to get into a psychological discussion with you this morning, Irene. I need a little information and I was wondering if you’d seen or talked to Jillian lately.”
After a pause Irene said, “I don’t remember exactly when I last spoke with your sister. A couple of weeks ago, I think. She stopped by the office to see you. But you were in court that day.”
“What did she want to see me about?”
“Hmm. Nothing special that I recall. I think she just happened to be out shopping and dropped by on a whim. Why?”
“Did she mention Trent?”
“I asked her about him,” Irene explained. “She said he was doing fine. Especially now that he’d started at his new job.”
“What about a girlfriend? Did she mention one of those?”
Irene laughed. “Well, Trent has gone through a list of girlfriends. Sort of like his uncle, you know.”
Letting his secretary’s snide comment slide, he said, “I’m talking about a special one.”
“Trent thinks each one is special. Until he gets tired of them.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my nephew’s behavior, Irene. Just the facts.”
That he was treating the conversation as lawyer to a witness didn’t bother Irene. After fifteen years of being his secretary she was used to his brusque, plain-spoken manner.
“Sorry, I got carried away for a moment. Must have been all that sugar from the bonbons,” she replied. “But as for a name, I do recall Jillian mentioning some girl he’d been seeing steadily. I believe it was something like Tessa or Tricia.”
Not a Grace. Jack didn’t know how he felt about this bit of news.
“You’re sure?”
“Not a hundred percent. But I do remember it was a T name. Does that help?”
“A little.”
“Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“No.”
“Oh, well, why should that surprise me,” she said with mock hurt. “I’m just the old faithful secretary that puts in sixty hours a week for you. I don’t deserve an explanation.”
He rolled his eyes. “Irene, if I thought I could do without you, I’d fire you.”
He could hear a wide smile in her voice as she replied, “But you can’t do without me, Jack. So you won’t fire me. Besides, I’m the only real friend you have.”
She was so close to the truth it made him wince. The fact that his fifty-five-year-old secretary was his very best friend said a damn lot about his life.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said crossly.
“Well, frankly, I don’t understand, Jack. I thought you went to Biloxi to get away from the stress of this place, not investigate your nephew.”
“I’m not doing an investigation, Irene,” he said tiredly.
There was a long pause, then she asked, “So how long are you planning to stay down there?”
“I don’t know. It all depends.”
“On what?”
His beautiful pregnant neighbor, Jack thought.
Out loud he said, “My mood, Irene.”
“Hmm. Well, I hope you’re in a better one the next time you call.”
“So do I,” he rumbled, then hung up the phone before she could say more.
Rising from the couch, he walked out onto the porch and gazed at the Gulf of Mexico. A brisk south wind was white-capping the water and pushing the waves onto the beach. The stretch of empty sand was no more than seventy-five to a hundred yards away and ran parallel to the front of the house. At the moment egrets and gulls screeched and swooped over the rolling salt water, some strutting boldly upon the white sand in search of a scrap to eat.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in Biloxi. He thought it might have been seven years ago. Vaguely, he recalled a case he’d been handling at the time. A casino had been suing a building contractor for some reason that escaped him now.
Since then, several more casinos had sprouted up along the beaches of the coastal resort town. But surprisingly, the added traffic and noise was far removed from this place, which, being some three miles away from town, had somehow managed to stay quietly sheltered. Other than the house next to him, there were no other residences around.
Jack couldn’t imagine Trent staying in such a quiet, isolated place. He always remembered the boy liking bright lights and excitement. Jack figured a plush room in one of the casinos would have been more to his liking. But then, he had to admit Grace Holliday would be an attraction in her own right for any young man. Perhaps between her and the gaming tables, his nephew had kept himself entertained and content with the place.
Damn it, what was he doing? He was already making the supposition that Grace Holliday was carrying Trent’s child. And that could be the furthermost thing from the truth.
If Jack were being completely honest with himself, the simple fact that Grace was carrying a child, no matter who had fathered it, bothered him. Though he didn’t understand why. Nowadays unwed mothers were the norm rather the exception. Besides, she was a total stranger to him. How she chose to live her life was none of his business.
Yet last night, when she’d offered him her hand, he’d sensed something different about her. It was almost as though she were a Southern-bred lady with pride and morals and family values. Not some woman who would sleep with a man, then try to extort money from him.
Hellfire, Jack, he silently cursed himself. You’ve been in the courtroom too long. You can’t see a gold digger when one is standing right in front of you.
Hours later, a squeaking noise grew louder, intruding on the fringes of Jack’s slumber. Damn birds, why didn’t they go back to the beach where they belonged? he wondered drowsily.
Another screeching squawk pierced his ears and popped his eyes wide open. Above his head, he saw a network of pine boughs swishing in the gentle breeze. Where the hell was he?
Scraping his fingers through his hair, he sat up on the chaise longue and through squinted eyes glanced around the small backyard. Everything came back to him with sudden clarity. The doctor’s grim edict. The long drive from Houston to Biloxi yesterday. The weariness he’d felt last night before Grace Holliday had made her uninvited appearance in the bungalow.
The memory of his pretty neighbor had him quickly glancing at the place next door. She could be home now. He hadn’t been watching; he’d spent most of the afternoon working on brief for a major upcoming trial. He’d come outside for a break and the last thing he remembered was sitting on the longue, listening to the lulling sound of the restless ocean and drinking in the scent of pine and salt water.
He must have been more tired than he’d thought to have fallen asleep like that. His lips twisted ruefully at the thought.