Welcome to Savannah. Your home-if Baxter Manning isnt making the biggest mistake of his life in believing you.
Corrie stiffened at the flash of steel under Lucass lazy drawl.
If Mr. Manning wants to invite me here, I cant see that its any of your concern.
Anything that affects the family concerns me. Especially a con artist trying to convince an old man shes his long-lost granddaughter.
Ive told the lawyers and Mr. Manning. Now Ill tell you. I dont want anything from him.
No secret dreams of being the missing heiress, coming into all that lovely money? He smiled slowly, his eyes intent on her face, as if he tried to see beneath the surface. Then we have to make sure you enjoy your time here, dont we?
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MARTA PERRY
has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels shes found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.
Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When shes not writing, shes probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.
Marta Perry
Tangled Memories
You know me inside and out,
You know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Psalms 139:15
This story is dedicated to my grandson,
Bjoern Jacob Wulff, with much love from Grammy.
And, as always, to Brian.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
ONE
For twenty-nine years, Corrie Grant had thought shed never know who her father was. Now she knew, and no one would believe her.
No one, at this point, was represented by a pair of smooth, silver-haired attorneys with Southern drawls as thick as molasses. They looked about as expensive as this hotel suite, where she sank to the ankles in plush carpeting. The denim skirt and three-year-old sweater she usually wore for her monthly shopping trip had definitely not been right for this meeting. She hadnt known Cheyenne, Wyoming boasted a hotel suite like this.
She slid well-worn loafers under her chair and straightened her back. Youre as good as anyone, her great-aunts voice echoed in her mind, its independent Wyoming attitude strong. Dont you let anyone intimidate you.
Ive already told you everything I know about my parents. Her words stopped one of the lawyersCourtland or Broadbent, she didnt know whichin mid-question. I came here to meet Baxter Manning. Her grandfather. She tried out the phrase in her mind, not quite ready to say it aloud yet. Where is he?
Now, Ms. Grant, surely you understand that we have to ascertain the validity of your claim before involving Mr. Manning, dont you?
Courtland or Broadbent had the smooth Southern courtesy down pat. Hed just managed to imply that she was a fraud without actually saying it.
She gripped the tapestry chair arms, resisting the impulse to surge to her feet. Im not making any claims. I dont expect anything from Mr. Manning. I just want to know if its true that his son was my father.
Twenty-nine years. That was how long Aunt Ella had known about her mothers marriage and kept it from her. Corrie could only marvel that she hadnt pressed for answers earlier. Shed simply accepted what Aunt Ella saidthat her mother had come home to Ulee, Wyoming, pregnant, at eighteen. That shed died in an accident when Corrie was six months old. That her mother had loved her.
Pain clutched her heart. Was that any more true than the rest of the fairy tale?
The attorneys exchanged glances. You must realize, one of them began.
She shot to her feet. Never mind what I must realize. Coming on top of the struggle to stretch her teaching salary and the meager income from Last Chance Café to pay Aunt Ellas hospital bills and funeral expenses, she didnt think she could handle any further runaround. Im done here. If Mr. Manning is interested in talking to me, he knows where to reach me. Ill be on my way.
She was halfway to the door when the voice stopped her.
Come back here, young woman.
She turned, pulse accelerating. The man whod come out of the suites bedroom was older than either of the lawyersin his seventies, at least. Slight and white-haired, his pallid skin declared his fragility, but he stood as straight as a man half his age.
Mr. Manning. It had to be.
He lifted silvery eyebrows. Arent you going to call me Grandfather?
No.
He let out a short laugh. Fair enough, as I have no intention of letting you. He extended his hand to one of the attorneys without looking. The man gave him the copies shed brought of her mothers marriage certificate and her own birth certificate.
The birth certificate doesnt name a father. He zeroed in on the blank line, his gaze inimical.
Shed learned, over the years, to brace herself for that reaction whenever she had to produce a birth certificate. Youre a child of God, Aunt Ella would say. Let that be enough for you.
Not exactly what a crying eight-year-old had wanted to hear, but typical of the tough Christian woman whod raised her. Ella Grant had taken what life dished out without complaint, even when that meant bringing up an orphaned great-niece with little money and no help.
According to my great-aunt, when I was born after my father died, my mother was afraid her husbands family would try to take me away. Later, she decided that they had a right to know. She kept her gaze steady on the man who might be her grandfather. You had a right to know. She left for Savannah to talk to you about me when I was six months old. She died in an accident on the trip.
An accidentthat was what Aunt Ella had always said. It was what Corrie had always believed, until shed been sorting through Aunt Ellas papers after her stroke. Shed found the marriage license and a scribbled postcard, knocking down her belief in who she was like a childs tower of blocks.
He made a dismissive gesture with the papers. Grace Grant never returned to Savannah after my son died. His voice grated on the words. With grief? She couldnt be sure. If you are her daughter, that still doesnt guarantee my son was your father.
Her temper flared at the slur, but before she could speak, one of the lawyers did.
A DNA test, he murmured.
Manning shot him an annoyed look. From what Ive learned, thats not likely to be conclusive with the intervening generation gone.
Nevertheless The lawyers smooth manner was slightly ruffled. Obviously the attorneys would prefer that he let them deal with this situation.
I have no objection to a DNA test. Why would she, if there was even a chance that it would answer her questions?
Who am I, Lord? I know Im Your child, but I have to know more.
Manning tossed the papers on the table, bracing himself with one hand on its glossy surface. It doesnt matter. You wont get anything from me in any event.
I dont want anything. That was what they seemed incapable of understanding. All I want is to know something about my father. Nothing else.
His mouth twisted. Do you really think Ill believe that?
The truth sank in. Manning didnt believe her, and he wouldnt help her.
No, obviously you cant. She wouldnt offer to shake hands. If her father had been anything like this man, maybe she was lucky hed never been a part of her life. I cant say its been nice meeting you, Mr. Manning, but its been interesting.
She turned toward the door again, holding her head high. Aunt Ella wouldnt have expected anything less. But the disappointment dragged like a weight pressing her down, compounding her still-raw grief.
Just a minute. Mannings voice stopped her again. I have a proposition for you.
Proposition? She turned back slowly, not sure she wanted to hear anything else he had to say.
A thin smile creased his lips. I wont claim you as a grandchild, understand that. I wont give you anything. But you may come and stay at my house in Savannah for a few weeks. The lawyers were twittering, but he ignored them. If you mean what you say, that will give you a chance to learn something about my son.
If you dont believe Im your grandchild, why would you want me there? She eyed him, wondering what was in his mind.
His smile grew a bit unpleasant. Ever heard the expression, putting a cat among the pigeons? I suppose not. Never mind my motives. They are not your concern.
Mr. Manning, we really dont think this is a good idea. Courtland and Broadbent exchanged glances.
Manning transferred his grip from the table to the back of the chair, leaning heavily, obviously tiring. You make the arrangements. She can go now, while Im still out of town. Lucas will take care of her.
Lucas? She grasped at the unfamiliar name, trying to make sense of this.
Lucas Santee. He was married to my nieces child. He runs my companies.
The young woman hasnt agreed to go. And the lawyers obviously hoped she wouldnt.
She will. Manning sent her a shrewd glance. Wont you?
She didnt like his attitude. Didnt like the feeling that he was manipulating her for some reason she couldnt understand. If she acted on instinct, shed walk right out the door and go back to Ulee. She had plenty there to keep her busy until school started again.
But she wouldnt, because if she did, shed never know the answers to the questions that haunted her. I hope this is what You want, Lord.
Ill go, she said.
Corrie leaned against the leather seat of the town car that had been waiting at the airport in Savannah. From the window, everything was so much softer, more verdant than shed expected. Palmettos lined the road, and beyond them she could see rank after rank of tall, straight pines.
Too bad the azaleas are past their prime. The grizzled driver, Jefferson, hed said his name was, turned from the highway onto a residential street. I always say you havent seen Savannah until youve seen it with the azaleas blooming.
She watched the city flow bystreets lined with cream-colored walls, wrought-iron fences, twisted live oaks draped with silvery Spanish moss. Flowers bloomed everywhere, so lush and colorful they almost looked artificial. The houses seemed to hide behind their colorful barrier, as if holding secrets closed to her.
Does the family live in this section of town?
Jefferson nodded. Not far. This heres the old part of town. He waved a hand vaguely toward the left. River Streets over that way. Youll want to see that while youre here. Right now Im to stop and pick up Mr. Lucas, then take yall to the house.
Corries nerves tingled. Manning had said Santee ran his company. What else did he run? Santee obviously intended to vet her before exposing the rest of the family to her. She felt a tingle of apprehension. Are we picking him up at his office?
At the construction site. Theyve been having problems at the new building. Nothing Mr. Lucas cant handle. He can handle anything.
That was another view of Lucas Santee. He could handle anything. Maybe the implication was that he could handle her, too. In a moment shed have a chance to decide for herself just how much of a challenge Lucas Santee was going to be.
Thanks to the briefing the lawyers had reluctantly provided, she knew that a number of Savannah businesses bore the Manning name. Lucas Santee ran the largest, the construction firm, and oversaw the rest since Mannings retirement.
The driver stopped the car next to a wooden construction barrier. Here we are, miss. Ill just go find Mr. Lucas.
Jefferson disappeared into the construction site, but Corrie was too restless to wait. She was keyed up and ready. The plane trip had been a prelude. Her quest was about to start. She slid out of the car and followed Jefferson on to the construction site.
The three stories of what was going to be a new bank, according to the sign, were at the stark girder stage. The building loomed over her, surrounded by heavy yellow construction vehicles.
She didnt see Jefferson, so she smiled at the nearest worker. Wheres Lucas Santee?
The man gave her the once-over before pointing to the third level of the building. Up there. The suit.
Actually, Lucas Santee had shed his suit coat, but Corrie understood. The other man was short, round and rumpled in workmens overalls. Santees shirt was dazzling white, and his dark slacks had a knife-edge crease she could see from here. He stood confidently on a girder, as self-assured as if he stood in a boardroom.
Santee said something that looked emphatic, motioning to the building around him. The other man appeared to object, but Santee cut him off with a quick, definitive gesture.
Santee stepped into the open cage of an elevator. With one hand braced against the metal on either side, he descended. Was he looking her way? She couldnt be sure.
The cage jolted to a stop, and he stepped out lightly. He took a suit coat from the outstretched hand of one of his lackeys and handed over the yellow hard hat hed been wearing.
Jefferson leaned close, murmuring something, and Santee sent a sharp glance at her before turning back to his men. He kept her waiting a few more minutes while he conferred with several people. Finally he detached himself from the group and started toward the car. He stepped from the shadow of the building, and the late-afternoon sun hit him like a spotlight.