Caleb chuckled. "You're right. See, you know Jazzy a lot better than you think you do."
After she wished him luck in finding the perfect engagement ring, Caleb and she said their good-byes and she entered the restaurant. Several customers turned and stared at her. Holding her head high, with just a hint of snobbery in her expression, she ignored them completely.
The hostess on duty, Tiffany Reid, smiled warmly at Reve and said, "Jazzy's expecting you. Go on back to her office."
"Thank you."
"She said to take your lunch order when you got here and we'll serve y'all in her office later, after your meeting with Mr. Powell." Tiffany giggled. "I can't believe that Griffin Powell is coming here. Today. I've seen pictures of him, of course, but I never thought I'd get a chance to see him in the flesh."
"Tiffany, when Mr. Powell arrives, please show him into Jazzy's office immediately.
And whatever you do, don't drool all over him."
Tiffany giggled again, the sound slightly irritating. "I'll do my best. I promise. But we're all talking about Griffin Powell. He's a legend around here, you know. Not only is he one of the most famous former UT football players, but now he's the most talked-about man in Tennessee. His picture's always in the newspaper or in magazines whenever his agency is involved with a big case or when he's attending some high society do, like charity balls and stuff like that."
'Yes, well, that may all be true, but today, please see to it that none of the other customers bother him. Usher him slight to Jazzy's office the minute he arrives."
'’I will. I swear. Jazzy's already given me my instructions."
Reve offered Tiffany an understanding smile. "I'd like soup and salad. Onion soup, if you have it. If not, vegetable will do. And a Caesar salad."
Grinning, Tiffany shook her head.
"Is something wrong?" Reve asked.
"Nope. It's just funny. Jazzy ordered the same thing. Veggie soup and a Caesar salad.
Only she added carrot cake. Miss Ludie brought in three fresh-baked carrot cakes early this morning."
Beginning to get used to the idea that she and Jazzy had certain tastes in common, Re-ve simply said, "Add a slice off carrot cake to my order."
She then made her way to the back of the restaurant. She passed the restrooms and the door leading to the storage area, then stopped and knocked on the closed door to Jazzy's office.
"Come on in," Jazzy called.
Reve opened the door. "Aren't you concerned that I might have been the latest Cherokee County killer, the one murdering redheads?"
"Nope. I wasn't the least bit concerned." Jazzy swirled her swivel office chair around and faced Reve. "I heard your footsteps coming up the hall. Most men don't wear high heels."
Reve walked into the room and shut the door behind her. "Have you contacted your Aunt Sally?"
Jazzy motioned for Reve to take a seat in the empty chair to the left of her desk. The other chair, on the right, was piled, high with magazines. "No, I thought it best not to alert Aunt Sally that we're coming to see her later today. She just might decide to take a hike in the woods. Believe me, she is not going to want to talk to us about my mother. Our mother."
"You think she'll stick to the lie that Corrine Talbot gave birth to only one child."
"Every time I've questioned her, she's sworn that it's the truth."
Reve sat, placed her brown leather purse in her lap and rested her clasped hands on top of the purse. "And what if it is the truth?" She kicked back in her chair and crossed her arms over her waist.
"How's that possible? I thought we'd both decided, even without the DNA test results, that we're definitely twins."
"We did decide that and I do believe we are twin sisters," Reve said. "But that doesn't mean Corrine Talbot gave birth to us."
Jazzy's eyes widened; her mouth gaped open. "I don't understand. If Corrine isn't our mother, then who is? And how did Aunt Sally get hold of me and not you, too? And if Corrine gave birth to a child, what happened to that baby?"
"Good questions. Ones we need to ask your aunt."
Jazzy stood. "Yeah, you're right. As soon as our meeting with Griffin Powell ends, we'll drive up the mountain to Aunt Sally's place and pay her a surprise visit. And if the old coot tries to run off, I'll tie her to a chair."
Despite the harshness of the comment, Reve heard the underlying affection in Jazzy's voice when she spoke of her aunt. "You love her very much, don't you?"
Jazzy chuckled, then faced Reve with a closed-mouth smile. "Oh, yeah. I love her.
She's the only mother I've ever known. Aunt Sally's one brick shy of a load by anybody's standards, but she's a wonderful old woman. She's been awfully good to me my whole li-fe."
"How will it affect your relationship with her if you find out she's been lying to you all these years?"
Jazzy sighed loudly and blew out a huffing breath. "I'm not sure. But I know it won't make me hate her. No matter what, she'll always be my Aunt Sally."
"When my parents told me that I was adopted, I was only six. They made it sound as if being adopted was something special. They made me feel as if I was a chosen one. Then when I was fourteen, I started getting curious about my biological parents and I asked Mother and Father if they knew anything about where I'd come from and why my birth mother had given me away. They swore they didn't know anything."
Reve gritted her teeth in an effort not to cry. Remembering the day her mother had finally confessed the truth to Reve still affected her at a deep emotional level. "When I graduated from college, my mother finally told me about my being found in a Dumpster in Sevierville. She said I'd been little more than a newborn when I was found. But that was all she and my father ever knew about me."
"You know, that's something that makes no sense to me. If our birth mother threw you into a Dumpster, why didn't she toss me in there with you?"
"Another very good question."
Jazzy walked over to Reve and stood above her, looking down at her until she lifted her gaze so that they were staring right at each other. "I guess it makes you feel like shit, doesn't it? Knowing you were thrown away like a piece of garbage."
Reve swallowed, then cleared her throat. "Yes. Yes, it does."
"You know what, sis, maybe she threw us both away. Maybe somebody found me in that Dumpster first and-"
"Your Aunt Sally?"
"Or maybe Corrine Talbot."
"We're making a lot of wild guesses here, none of which may turn out to be correct."
A loud, repetitive knocking on the door ended their conversation.
"Jazzy, Mr. Powell is here," Tiffany called through the closed door.
"Show him in right now." Jazzy turned to greet their visitor.
Reve rose, laid her purse on the chair seat and stood beside Jazzy.
The door opened to reveal a big, wide-shouldered man in' a navy blue suit, a crisp white shirt and a burgundy, navy and white striped tie. His white-blond hair was cut short, obviously in an effort to control the curliness that revealed itself despite the style. A pair of dark blue eyes surveyed the room and the two women. Everything about him reeked of money-and good taste.
At six-four, with the toned body of an athlete and the aura of a dangerous warrior, Griffin Powell possessed the kind of magnetism that intrigued women and intimated other men. Reve knew the man by reputation only. Although she had used his agency when she'd had Jazzy investigated nearly a year ago, the two had never met. She knew only what everyone else knew about Mr. Powell-that he'd been a poor boy who'd grown up on a farm outside Dayton and had made a name for himself as a star quarterback for the Uni-versity of Tennessee nearly two decades ago. After graduation, when everyone had been sure he'd turn pro, the man had disappeared off the face of the earth. For ten years, no one had any idea what had happened to him. Then five years ago, he'd come back to Tennessee-rich, powerful and apparently world-weary. He'd opened a private security and investigation agency in Knoxville, catering to an elite clientele, and soon became the state's most famous mystery man.
Powell declined to give interviews, despite public curiosity and the media's quest to unearth his secrets. Over the years, his reputation had become legendary, with half a dozen different scenarios circulating that explained the missing years of his life. Reve had to admit that she was curious, but understanding what it was like to be the focus of mat kind of attention, she intended to keep her curiosity in check. And she'd warned Jazzy not to ask him any personal questions when they met.
"Mr. Griffin." Reve extended her hand.
He shook hands with her. A strong, confident exchange. Neither smiled.
Jazzy came forward, her usual glittery personality and sexiness all but oozing from her pores. "I'm Jazzy Talbot. It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Griffin."
"Ladies." He nodded curtly.
"Won't you sit down?" Jazzy rushed to remove the stack °f magazines from the chair to her right.
"Why don't we all sit," Griffin suggested.
They all sat, Griffin and Reve in the chairs flanking Jazzy's desk. Jazzy chose to prop herself on the edge of her desk in a rather provocative pose. Reve realized that Jazzy wasn't even aware of what she'd done, that being sexy was second nature to her. She wasn't coming on to Griffin Powell. She was just being herself.
Griffin laid his briefcase on his lap, flipped it open and removed a document. "I ran an initial check on the two of you first thing this morning before I left Knoxville."
"We could have told you anything you wanted to know." Jazzy smiled flirtatiously with Griffin. And once again Reve realized that Jazzy wasn't doing it intentionally.
The corners of Griffin's mouth lifted ever so slightly, as T he was mildly amused by Jazzy. "I like to cut through any: sentiment and get down to the bare facts." He looked at Reve, "I've sent an agent to Sevierville to look into the events surrounding your being found in a Dumpster. I want the exact date, and if possible we'll track down any eye witnesses. I'll also want your permission to speak to the attorney who handled your adoption."
"Yes, of course. Winston Carroll is retired now, and when I questioned him myself, he didn't seem to know any more than my mother had already told me."
Griffin nodded, then looked at Jazzy. "I'll want to question your aunt." He glanced down at his report. "Sally Talbot. I believe she raised you after her sister Corrine Talbot's death I "That's right," Jazzy said.
"We'll find out more about Corrine, too. A good start will be to find records proving she really was pregnant and if she was, whether she gave birth to one baby girl or two.
And i she did have twins, were those children the two of you."
"Reve and I had planned to speak to Aunt Sally lat today. We're paying her a surprise visit."
"I'd like to go with you. My guess is that Sally Talbot c shed a great deal of light on the matter."
"Oh, I know she can," Jazzy replied. "The problem is, will she tell us the truth? You see, I'm the most important person in the world to Aunt Sally. If she has been lying to me all these years, then she's going to be afraid to tell me the truth, afraid she'll lose me."
"Then perhaps you should assure her that isn't the case." Griffin held out a copy of his report to Jazzy. "Read this over and see if it's correct and if there's any pertinent information that needs to be added."
When Jazzy took the report, he then turned to Reve and handed her a copy. "Would you do the same, Ms. Sorrell?"
Reve took the report, nodded and then scanned the two-page summary. She soon realized that the document was a concise, accurate, condensed account of her life, from when she was adopted by the Sorrells to the present day, including all the known facts that connected her to Jazzy.
Same blood type. AB negative.
Strong physical resemblance. Practically identical.
Sorrell adopted as an infant. Talbot reared by an "aunt."
The two women grew up within a three-hour drive of each other.
"Why not add that our favorite dessert is banana pudding?" Jazzy said lifting her head after skimming the document.
"Or you could even add that we both prefer Caesar salad to house salad," Reve said and returned Jazzy's instant smile.
Griffin glanced from one to the other. "I take it that you two have already decided that you're sisters. Am I right?"
"You're right," Reve told him. "We believe the DNA test results will only confirm what we already know. That's why I hired you before the results came back. We don't want to waste any more time in tracking down our biological mother and discovering the facts surrounding our births."
"Are you both prepared to learn the truth?" Griffin asked.
Sometimes it's better to not go digging around in the past.
You might not like what you find out."
I "I assume we won't like what we find out," Reve said.
After all, how could a story that begins with disposing of an infant in the trash possibly wind up reading like a fairy tale?"
They took Jazzy's red Jeep and left Reve's Jaguar parked in town. They had passed the turnoff for the Upton estate several miles back. The road leading from the main highway that wound around and around in its ascent up the mountain was a hazardous, narrow, paved strip, jutted with potholes^ and protected from deep ravines by low, rusted guardrails.
During most of their trip, one country-and-western song after another had blasted from Jazzy's radio. Reve had made her-j self grin and bear it. She really didn't like country music, especially not the current brand. And all the while the music pulsated through the Je-ep, Jazzy had chatted away about first one thing and then another.
"I hope Mr. Powell wasn't offended by my insisting he wait to talk to Aunt Sally until we'd had a chance to talk to her first," had been one of Jazzy's first remarks.
With that topic discussed and dismissed, Jazzy had gone on to comments about her aunt, her poor but filled-with-love childhood, and her aunt's friend Ludie, who was a full-bloodied, Cherokee. Reve had wanted to shout "Stop!" Too much in-i formation given too quickly. But her sister hadn't paused long enough for Reve to get a word in edgewise.