Landry's Law by Kelsey Roberts Page B

realizing that he had been ignoring her while cataloging her many assets. “Please tell me about your family.”
    “Savannah is my real first name,” she explained.“My parents named me after the city where they met.”
    Seth smiled. “Then I’m sure you can guess why my one brother’s name is Chance—my folks took one.”
    She laughed. The mere sound of her laughter filling his home seemed somehow comforting, right.
    “I have three younger brothers. All of them are in college now.”
    “Then I don’t need to bother checking out the picture I took from your cabin of you standing with your family at one of the boy’s high school graduation.”
    Savannah’s expression changed instantly. Her eyes blazed. “You took one of my photographs?”
    He reached for her hand, but she snatched it out of reach. “At the time, you were the prime suspect in three murders. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. Chill out.”
    She did, but slowly. “The boys are, in descending order, Matthew, Mark and Luke.”
    “Your family is religious?” Seth guessed.
    Savannah shrugged. “They go to church. But the names came about because after me, my parents were told they couldn’t have any more children. So, six years later, when the boys all came within twenty months, they figured the boys were gifts from God, hence their names.”
    Seth gave a half laugh. “My parents started outgiving us names beginning with S, because Pop always called mom Silla in stead of Pricilla. But when we kept coming and coming and coming, they switched to C s, for my father, Caleb. Except for Shane. I suppose by the time he came along they had run out of names beginning with the letter C. ” Seth took another sip of wine and felt himself relaxing for the first time since they had fished Fowler’s body out of Brock Creek. “You said you called your mother’s office. Is she a secretary?”
    Now Savannah gave a chuckle. “Not my mother. Not that there’s anything wrong with secretarial work, but Patricia Hale-Smythe is just one of those hold-overs from the feminist movement. She believed and wanted it all. She owns her own interior decorating business. Makes almost as much a year as my father.”
    “Who is…?”
    “Conway Smythe, M.D., one of the busiest OBGYNs in Norwalk, Connecticut.”
    Seth whistled. “So we have something in common.”
    Her brows wrinkled. “What?”
    “We both come from financially… comfortable backgrounds.”
    Savannah huffed. “I’d hardly relate the Smythe family with the vast holdings of the Landrys. By the way, do you know Junior’s only wish in life is to handle your family’s finances?”
    “That wouldn’t sit too well with Sam,” Sethremarked. “I don’t see my financial-analyst brother turning over the family business to a CPA.”
    “Junior’s good with money,” Savannah defended mildly.
    “How do you know?”
    “When they put me into the Witness Protection Program, my father liquidated a small trust fund he’d set up for me. So Savannah Wyatt has to pay quarterly taxes on Savannah Smythe’s money. Junior helps me.”
    “I thought the Feds paid all your relocation expenses. Does Junior know you’re actually Savannah Smythe?”
    “Absolutely not. The Feds made Savannah Smythe’s money turn into Savannah Wyatt’s money. Junior doesn’t have the first clue. Having my own money meant I could finish college when they had me in Maryland. And continue now that I’m in Montana. I just had a lot of work to make up since I had to totally change my career plans.”
    Seth recalled the sketches he had seen in her cabin. “You were an art major?”
    “Fashion design,” she corrected. “I was going to be the Vera Wang of the new millennium. Which is how I got into this mess.”
    Seth refilled their glasses. “Sorry, but I didn’t know that mobsters were into fashion design. Well, except for that Gotti guy, but he’ll be wearing prison issue for the rest of his days.”
    Savannah’s smile reached her