"Yeah," I answered absentmindedly as I thought about what he might find in Joseph Edwards' storage unit. Daryl continued to ramble on about dismembered bodies and other grotesque oddities he'd heard about being found in storage facilities, but I wasn't paying attention. He had a tendency to go off on tangents like that, so I'd learned to just wait until he was finished. Ordinarily, I wouldn't give someone that much leeway, but Daryl was a decent guy, even if he was a little weird.
I stood from my desk and held out my hand to shake his, a not-so-subtle sign I was ready for him to leave. Daryl took the hint and stood to go, still mumbling about the things he could imagine uncovering the next day.
"Call me as soon as you get in. I want to know everything you find," I said as I escorted him out toward Michelle.
"You got it. Talk to you then."
Dinner was ready at five when I got home, but Nina was nowhere to be found. I quickly hunted down Jensen, but he hadn't driven her anywhere all day. West reported that she hadn't left, but he did think he'd seen her on the grounds within the hour. The snow that had been falling all day had tapered off, but it was getting colder now that the sun had gone down. I called her cell phone three times, but it went directly to voicemail. Frustrated, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and set off to find her without even grabbing my coat, scared something might have happened to her.
The doctors had warned me that she may act abnormally at times because of her head injury, so immediately I was concerned about her walking the grounds since she'd never spent any time outside, as far as I knew. I hurriedly walked around the house and then headed out toward the gardens, finally catching a glimpse of her as I rounded the first stand of hedges.
"Nina! Wait up!"
She turned and waved at me, giving me the sense that she wasn't out there for any dangerous reason. I jogged over to her and saw she was dressed for the cold weather, so at least she wasn't wandering around half-clothed unsure of where she was or what her name was.
"It's freezing out here, Tristan. Where's your coat?" she asked in a worried voice.
"I'm looking for you. Why are you out here?"
"I was feeling cabin fever inside after working all day. I was going to go into the city to see Jordan, but I decided not to. When it stopped snowing, I figured I'd take a stroll around and see what the rest of the place looks like. It's nice out here."
She seemed okay and was making sense, so I guessed she wasn't having some episode from her injury like the doctors had described. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside."
Nina held out her hand to take mine, and we walked back to the house together as she described her day researching pieces for the Atlanta property. It was moments like these that erased all the bad of my days—everything with Karl, the job I had Daryl doing for me—and made me feel as if things were going to be okay between Nina and me, no matter what came our way.
I took her coat as we entered the house and felt for her cell. Sitting in her pocket, it showed no calls at all. One of the disadvantages to living out in the country.
"How was your day at work? I was so busy talking about my day I didn't even ask how yours went," she said as we sat down to dinner.
"Same as always. Just another day at work," I answered, knowing it was a half-truth but preferring her to believe that my days were like hers instead of the nightmare that they were.
We ate and then laid in each other's arms after as we watched one of her chick flicks I hadn't wanted to deprive her of again. As if the universe had chosen to give me a sign, Nina picked a film about some woman dealing with the death of her mother. I watched and patiently waited until it was over to ask her about her own mother's death, my conversation with Daryl weighing heavily on my mind.
"Does watching something like this make you think of your mother?"
Shaking her head, she said it didn't, but I saw it did. The woman in the film had died of cancer. Had hers?
"What happened to your mother, Nina?"
Cuddling up next to me, she quietly said, "She died of leukemia. It was fast, I think. I was so young I don't really remember, but my father told me she didn't suffer. They diagnosed her and a few weeks later she was gone."
The sadness in her voice made my breath catch in my throat. I'd always thought that losing my mother the way I did was better than watching her fade away for months or years, but I could tell by what Nina said that it wasn't that way for her. Maybe because she'd had so little time with her mother. At least I'd gotten most of my life with mine.
I kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts."
"Even after all this time, it still does. I sometimes think of what it would be like if she was still here."
"I know. I think the same thing about my mother. What would she think of me now?" I wondered out loud.
Nina lifted her head and smiled. "She'd think you're an incredible success with a great girlfriend."
"At least the second part," I said, unsure if anything I'd done could be considered a success.
"You would have liked my mother. She was sweet and kind. My father used to say I was just like her. Were you more like your mother or your father?"
"My mother, I guess. Taylor was always closer to my father, so I naturally gravitated toward her."
As she curled up closer to me, Nina whispered, "Then I would have liked her."
We laid there silently thinking about the people we'd lost, good and bad, and for the first time in a long time, I missed my mother. I rarely thought of her, something that my shrinks always considered to be a serious problem. They'd always talked about the need for me to mourn her, but I had mourned her. Just not the way they wanted me to.
Nina fell asleep on my chest as I remembered the last time my mother and I talked alone just days before the plane crash. She'd been upset about my unwillingness to do anything but party and sleep around, not that she knew the full extent of either activity in my life. I'd pushed her off with my usual ability to charm her as I always had as her favorite. I saw in her face the worry that I'd never grow up and be the man she believed I could be or find someone to spend my life with.
My mother sat alone at the dining room table with three empty place settings. I had no idea where my father and Taylor were instead of sitting with her for our traditional Sunday afternoon dinner, but I'd just rolled out of bed a half hour before and wanted nothing more than something to bring me back to life after a night of partying till dawn. One thing was for sure. Sunday dinner around the family dining table wasn't it.
She looked up at me as I entered the room, her big brown eyes telegraphing she wanted to talk to me. I knew what she wanted to say. It was always the same.
"Tristan, come sit with me. I want to talk."
"I'm just grabbing a roll and heading out, Mom. Maybe when I get back."
"Tristan Ryder Stone, I want to speak to you."
Anytime my mother used my middle name and said anything in that choppy tone, I knew there was no escaping whatever she wanted. Sighing, I hung my head and pulled out a chair at one of the empty places.
"I'm concerned about you, sweetheart. You're twenty-four now. I realize you're not like your brother, but you can't stay a boy forever."
If she knew what I did with my nights, she wouldn't call me a boy. With a charming smile, I said, "Okay, Mom."
"Tristan, it's time you grew up. Again, I'm not saying you have to be just like Taylor, but your father and I are concerned that you don't seem to have any direction, other than toward parties and girls. I want to see you settled and happy."
"My father's concerned?"
I knew by the look that crossed her face that it was only she who was worried about me and my nightly behavior. I wasn't even sure my father knew I existed most of the time, even though we lived in the same house.
My mother reached out to touch my hand. I looked down at her long manicured nails that screamed opulence and then up at her face to see those big brown eyes once again fixed on me.
Two could play at that game.
"I'll settle down when I meet the perfect woman. You wouldn't want me to settle for anything less, would you?"
Now it was her turn to sigh. My usual answer never satisfied her. "Tristan, I want to believe that you mean that and you aren't just playing on my emotions."
"Who, me? Your favorite son? I wouldn't do that," I said, oozing the charm that never failed to work on her.
I rose from the table and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Don't wait up. I might spend the night in the city."
She said nothing but simply smiled at me as I turned to leave. I felt her stare on my back as I walked out, but I didn't turn around. There was no point. We both knew that.
I watched as Nina snored lightly on my chest and stroked her soft hair. For whatever it was worth, I'd finally figured out that my mother was right. I just hoped she could see that at least she'd been wrong about me finding someone to love.
Chapter Fourteen
Tristan
I chose a tie and closed my bedroom closet door. "Jensen, I want you at my office at quarter after nine exactly," I instructed him as I fixed my tie. "Michelle will have a package for you. I want you to bring it back here and give it to Rogers. He'll know what to do with it."
"Yes, Mr. Stone."
"Tell Rogers to come here. I need to talk to him."