From the Author
Griff sighed and gave Tilly a caustic look. "Tilly, you do realize this house alone holds millions of dollars in art. Never mind the horses. Or the wine cellar. Everyone who works for me gets vetted. And yes, Phillip said she seems clean."
"So why is problem? You think she will steal precious dogs? Maybe she takes your Picasso under her skinny chicken arm or put in her small bag." Tilly laughed heartily and slapped her ample thigh.
"He also said there was nothing on her. Her paper trail leads to dead ends. No history. Her certificate is a fake. She paid her rent in cash."
"Again, so why you hire this girl?" Tilly, a full head shorter than Griff, tried to peek out around him.
Because Grace would have wanted me to.
Everything about her was a red flag. Yet, when he pulled the glossy eight by ten photographs of Jenna Maxwell from the manila envelope, a small, familiar voice whispered in his brain, give her a chance. It was the voice of his wife, Grace--lover of strays and misfits, heart of gold, gone from him and this world six years. Grace would've taken one look at that young woman in those pictures and seen someone in desperate need. He could see it. It was in the way her narrow shoulders hunched, her side glance and tight expression caught frozen in the camera's eye. The baseball cap pulled low in another. Phillip said she was hard to photograph, her head was nearly always down. Why, Miss Maxwell? The photographs, of course, never answered. So, he did the most impractical and illogical thing he'd ever done and hired her. His mind drifted back to the evening he received her first email.