Page 55

Natalie cleared her throat. “Well, then. How about some dessert? Tyler, would you please help me?” Tyler frowned, but to my surprise, he stood up and began to gather dishes. I guessed he felt like he could handle his stepmother since both his father and I were near at hand. Or possibly he wanted to make sure she didn’t sneak any antifreeze in my dessert. I pushed back my chair, but John held up his hand. “No, you’re our guest. Natalie doesn’t mind, do you, dear?” He lifted an eyebrow. She smiled vaguely, but her eyes hardened at his words.

“No, not at all. Besides, Tyler is such a dear to help me.”

“Jennifer, while they clean up and get dessert ready, would you like to join me for an after dinner drink?” His dad stood by my chair to assist me. I glanced at Tyler uncertainly, but his expression didn’t give me any clue about what he thought I should do.Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.I followed John into what I assumed was his study. The room consisted of several dark bookshelves that lined one whole wall. With a quick glance, and I recognized that they were mostly legal volumes, although there were several works of literature and photo journals from countries all around the world. But what caught my eye was the art on the wall.

“I thought you’d appreciate those,” his voice seemed to fill the room.

I moved closer. From a distance, I thought they might be beautifully framed prints, but upon closer inspection, I was almost certain they were actually original paintings by Monet. “They’re stunning,” I said in awe. “How on earth were you able to obtain these?”

He waved his hand as if it was an everyday ability. “Enough money can buy beautiful things. In that case, a small private collection was for sale and after spending a small fortune, they became mine.”

I stiffened at his money comment, but couldn’t tear my eyes from the beautiful way the artist was able to capture an image using large and small dots of color rather than full brush strokes. “You’re very fortunate,” I finally stated.

“It was never enough for Tyler’s mother,” he said. “No matter how hard I worked, she was never satisfied.”

“Tyler described her as someone who didn’t care about material things,” I countered.

“Of course she did,” John scoffed. “She grew up in a home where she never wanted for anything. I was just trying to live up to her father’s expectations.”

“I thought family was more important to her.”

“Music was her number one passion,” John corrected. I could see his lawyer mind at work as he debated my answers. “Family had to adapt around it.”

“That’s not exactly as Tyler described it.”

“And how exactly did he tell the story?” His prosecutor eyes challenged me.

I felt like I was on the witness stand. I kept my eyes focused on his. “That his mother chose to quit the career she’d spent her entire life working toward for her baby and how devoted she was teaching him how to play the same instrument that she loved. I’ve heard him play. He’s remarkably good. He probably could have followed in her footsteps had he chosen to.”

“Oh,” his dad said. He casually straightened some paperwork on his desk and then went in for the kill. “And did he tell you it’s his fault his mother died?”