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leather let out a quiet, comforting sigh as Ariana sat. Several legal documents were laid out across the table, each with bright pink tabs sticking out of their sides with the helpful words SIGN HERE in bold black letters.

    "I'm so sorry for your loss," Jessup said, sitting next to her and rolling his chair closer to the table. He stopped messing with the mint, as if the occasion was too somber for such behavior.

    "Thank you," Ariana said. Surreptitiously she eyed the paperwork, trying to discern any dollar amounts in all the legal gibberish. "Did you know my grandmother well?"

    "Samantha Covington was a great lady. Not to mention one of our most important clients."

    "She must be, if one of the firm's partners is flying out just to meet me," Ariana said, lifting one eyebrow.

    Jessup cracked a smile. "We have four offices--Houston, St. Louis, Atlanta, and DC. There are about thirty other places I'm supposed to be right now, but I promised your grandmother I'd take care of her estate myself when the time came. I'm honored to be able to fulfill that promise."

    "Thank you," Ariana said.

    "This should be simple," Jessup said. "All you need to do is sign where indicated, and then I'll be able to give you all the account numbers and keys."

    He lifted an open box off the chair on his other side and placed it on the table. Inside were several sets of keys, each with a white tag hanging off of it, and a series of worn-looking bankbooks.

    "Keys?" she asked.

    "To the five safety deposit boxes containing all your mother and grandmother's jewelry. To the ranch in Texas, the house in Florida, the villa in Italy, the condo in Vail, the pied-�-terre in Paris. Also, the cars," he said, lifting out one after the other. "You've got your Cadillac convertible, your grandmother's classic Benz, your father's Porsche, and your mother's Infiniti. Y grandmother never had the heart to sell those. The keys to the

    our various vehicles at the other homes are all with the caretakers, but I thought I'd bring these with me in case you wanted me to have one of them shipped out."

    Ariana's tongue was slick with saliva. She was actually about to start drooling. Pied-�-terre in Paris? Villa in Italy? Condo in Vail? Her choice of cars? Suddenly she wished she'd taken Lexa up on her offer and brought her along, just so that she could have her pinch her.

    "Miss Covington? Are you all right? Do you need some water?" Mr. Jessup asked.

    "Um, no, thank you. I'm fine," she said. She folded her hands in her lap so he couldn't see them trembling, although he probably would have thought she was overcome with stress rather than excitement. "Actually, you could have the Porsche shipped out, if you don't mind taking care of that for me." She had detested Briana Leigh's ridiculously ostentatious gold Cadillac. From everything she knew about Mr. Covington, she was sure his car was more classic--more understated.

    "Of course not," Mr. Jessup said, making a quick note. Then he took out a second pen, uncapped it, and handed it to her. "All right, then. If you'll just show me your ID, we can get started."

    Ariana's blood froze. "My ID?"

    Did he think she wasn't who she said she was? Did he think she was some kind of fraud? She'd been living as Briana Leigh Covington for the past four months. And he had no idea the torture she'd had to live through before taking the name, just to secure it. How dare he ask for ID? Her fingers clenched the pen so hard the tips began to turn white under her fingernails.

    "Yes, it's just a matter of course," Mr. Jessup said. "Legalities and all that. You do have it with you?"

    Ariana breathed in deeply through her nose, telling herself to be patient. The man was just doing his job. He wasn't trying to out her. Slowly, concentrating on every move--on making them look casual--Ariana placed the pen down, reached into her bag and extracted her wallet. Her fingers were slick with sweat, so it took several frustrating tries to remove