don’t typically run a client’s history unless it’s related to the case.” He didn’t need to know what she or Sadie did for a living to find their father. Then he remembered how Charlie had run both of the McGuiness women in their databases. Dammit, she must have discovered this. Why hadn’t she told him? They were going to have a talk when he saw her.
“Oh, I love knowing something you don’t,” Gail said, pretty much finishing off his bourbon in two more healthy sips. “That must get your knickers in a wad. She’s my personal accountant.”
Shelby was an accountant? Somehow that intrigued him. She’d purposefully chosen an orderly profession, governed by legal structures like his was, even if hers was the IRS and his was the Tennessee Private Investigation and Polygraph Commission. But she also worked for Gail, the pinup girl for drama and chaos. What about Shelby had made her want to dance with both extremes on a daily basis?
“How did you two hook up?” he asked.
Gail picked up the silver bell she always carried around the mansion and rang it. “Jeffries! Excuse me a moment.” When the man appeared, she gave him a radiant smile. “Another bourbon for Mr. Montgomery.”
Vander shot her a look, which she pointedly ignored. “Thank you, Jeffries,” he said. “I find myself thirsty.”
When the butler was gone, she leaned forward, giving him a smile that could have made a Confederate general rethink his battle strategy, and whispered, “I only have a sip here and there. That won’t kill me none.”
His mouth twitched. “Nothing is going to put you in the grave unless you say so, Gail. That’s one thing I know about you.”
She slapped his knee. “That’s why I love you so much. Vander, are you sure you don’t want to knock boots with me?”
Vander shook his head. “Gail.”
“I can’t help it!” she said, fanning herself. “You’re so handsome and compelling. I barely remember you’re a Yankee when we chat.”
He found himself chuckling, knowing she was mostly teasing. It didn’t matter that he’d been born in Nashville and lived here his first ten years. He’d left—and then come back without a Southern accent. To some, that was heresy. “You were about to tell me how you happened to hire Shelby.”
“Right! She applied for the advertisement pretty much right out of college, but she had grit—something I admire in people—and she was so earnest, what with her mama being a preacher and all. I just knew she’d never steal any money from me like my first husband did.”
“How is it you haven’t mentioned her to me before?” Vander asked.
“I don’t have you investigate everyone who works for me, Vander,” she said, “and since you refuse to come to my house parties, y’all have never crossed paths until now.”
Gail’s house parties pretty much terrified him, and Vander didn’t scare easily. The engraved invitations were enough to make him queasy, partly because they reminded him of the kind of events his mother and grandparents used to hold in their Boston mansion. He’d never been allowed to attend any of the family parties because he was a reminder of his mother’s greatest mistake. He’d been kept upstairs with his nanny, the orchestra music and laughter filtering in through the windows his only link to the events going on two stories below.
This past May, though, Gail had invited him to something his old-moneyed Boston family would never have imagined in a million years: a May Day celebration, the entertainment of which had included a painted yellow horse and dancing fairies. Of course, the fairies were actors from the local theatre scene, but still. There wasn’t enough bourbon in all of Nashville to entice him to attend a party like that despite how unique the invitation had been.
“All right, I’m glad to know about the connection,” Vander said. “It’s interesting Shelby didn’t tell me you referred her.”
Gail gave Jeffries an
“Oh, I love knowing something you don’t,” Gail said, pretty much finishing off his bourbon in two more healthy sips. “That must get your knickers in a wad. She’s my personal accountant.”
Shelby was an accountant? Somehow that intrigued him. She’d purposefully chosen an orderly profession, governed by legal structures like his was, even if hers was the IRS and his was the Tennessee Private Investigation and Polygraph Commission. But she also worked for Gail, the pinup girl for drama and chaos. What about Shelby had made her want to dance with both extremes on a daily basis?
“How did you two hook up?” he asked.
Gail picked up the silver bell she always carried around the mansion and rang it. “Jeffries! Excuse me a moment.” When the man appeared, she gave him a radiant smile. “Another bourbon for Mr. Montgomery.”
Vander shot her a look, which she pointedly ignored. “Thank you, Jeffries,” he said. “I find myself thirsty.”
When the butler was gone, she leaned forward, giving him a smile that could have made a Confederate general rethink his battle strategy, and whispered, “I only have a sip here and there. That won’t kill me none.”
His mouth twitched. “Nothing is going to put you in the grave unless you say so, Gail. That’s one thing I know about you.”
She slapped his knee. “That’s why I love you so much. Vander, are you sure you don’t want to knock boots with me?”
Vander shook his head. “Gail.”
“I can’t help it!” she said, fanning herself. “You’re so handsome and compelling. I barely remember you’re a Yankee when we chat.”
He found himself chuckling, knowing she was mostly teasing. It didn’t matter that he’d been born in Nashville and lived here his first ten years. He’d left—and then come back without a Southern accent. To some, that was heresy. “You were about to tell me how you happened to hire Shelby.”
“Right! She applied for the advertisement pretty much right out of college, but she had grit—something I admire in people—and she was so earnest, what with her mama being a preacher and all. I just knew she’d never steal any money from me like my first husband did.”
“How is it you haven’t mentioned her to me before?” Vander asked.
“I don’t have you investigate everyone who works for me, Vander,” she said, “and since you refuse to come to my house parties, y’all have never crossed paths until now.”
Gail’s house parties pretty much terrified him, and Vander didn’t scare easily. The engraved invitations were enough to make him queasy, partly because they reminded him of the kind of events his mother and grandparents used to hold in their Boston mansion. He’d never been allowed to attend any of the family parties because he was a reminder of his mother’s greatest mistake. He’d been kept upstairs with his nanny, the orchestra music and laughter filtering in through the windows his only link to the events going on two stories below.
This past May, though, Gail had invited him to something his old-moneyed Boston family would never have imagined in a million years: a May Day celebration, the entertainment of which had included a painted yellow horse and dancing fairies. Of course, the fairies were actors from the local theatre scene, but still. There wasn’t enough bourbon in all of Nashville to entice him to attend a party like that despite how unique the invitation had been.
“All right, I’m glad to know about the connection,” Vander said. “It’s interesting Shelby didn’t tell me you referred her.”
Gail gave Jeffries an
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