"Is ... that a tattoo?" Sherrill asked.

"No. It's been there all my life."

Sherrill scooped up the ring Taylor had pulled off. "What's this one that you wear?" She turned it around as if studying it.

"It's my grandpa's. He gave it to me before he pa.s.sed away."

Sherrill's nod coincided with her, *Ahh'. "You stay connected with your family through heirlooms like this one." Sherrill rose from her stool.

Taylor narrowed her eyes. "I guess." Her head bobbed up and down. "Actually, yes." She stuck the band as far up on her other ring finger. The switch to her right gave her an odd, out-of-balance sensation.

"I want you to see something." Sherrill opened a drawer and withdrew a large magnifying gla.s.s. At the counter, she held it over the photo of the Taylor and Ian lookalikes. "It takes a magnifying gla.s.s to see it, but it's there. Look at the woman's hand."

Ian snuck next to Taylor, their faces touching at their cheeks.

Taylor took in the face staring back at her, what looked to be light eyes, blondish hair, smooth skin and cheekbones that matched her own. The man beside her held an expression of pain and happiness-a mix Taylor understood well.

"Do you see the pattern inked around this woman's finger?" The humor in Sherrill's voice had Taylor shifting in her seat.

She squinted but could only really make out a faint line around the woman's right ring finger until she put the magnifying gla.s.s over it, and it came out in full relief. "Oh. My. G.o.d."

Behind her, tension radiated from Ian's body.

"That symbol is there, on her finger, isn't it?" Sherrill asked.

Tingling encompa.s.sed Taylor's arm. The same design, barely visible with the gla.s.s, but definitely there, showed. Taylor couldn't tell on the man's finger as his dark skin and the photo's depth of field prevented her from seeing it.

"It's no wonder Lexi sent you to me." A small laugh accompanied Sherrill's smile. "My grandmother used to laugh and tell me that her mother believed if you marked yourself in one life, that mark would carry on into the next." She gave a small chuckle.

"Do you believe that?" Why do I believe her? Taylor dug at her finger again.

Sherrill took Taylor's hands in hers. "Like I said, my great-grandmother was unique. So yes, I believe it."

"So, this woman and I have the same mark. Does that mean we're related? Is she one of my ancestors? How is this possible?" Are we the reincarnation of these people in the photo?

"Now that, I don't know. In all honesty, I don't know who these people are or why my grandparents kept these photos, but they did. For a long time, they hung right where Lexi said-next to the mantel." The chime of five p.m. rang through from a Grandfather clock somewhere in the house, and Sherrill laid her hands back on the countertop. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Actually ..." Ian leaned forward after his complete and utter lack of partic.i.p.ation in the conversation. "We've got another appointment. With Tripp's sister."

Sherrill's smile bloomed. "It's been a few weeks since I talked with Missy last. How is she?"

"Busy," Ian said. "Seems someone gave her name out to a few potential clients, and she has three different houses to design the interiors for."

Sherrill's expression didn't change. "Sometimes, one needs a boost. Other times, they need a downright kick in the b.u.t.t." A light laugh rang through the kitchen. "She's not so different from her brother but even more headstrong. Please tell Missy I said h.e.l.lo."

"Absolutely." Ian took Taylor's hand as they followed Sherrill to the door and stepped into the evening sun.

"Thank you for everything, Sherrill." Taylor infused her voice with kindness despite the frustration of the hours-long conversation and more questions than answers result.

Sherrill pulled Taylor in for a hug.

Ian moved in for the same. "Nice to finally put a face to a name."

"You, too, Ian. I hope you find what you're looking for."

a a a Once in the confines of the car, Taylor turned to Ian. "Do you think we are those people? Is that even possible?"

"I don't know." His grip on the wheel suggested he might have some of the same problems she did with their little adventure.

She pulled her hand away. "I hate mysteries, Ian. I read the end of books before I hit chapter three. I hate not knowing what's coming or going, who is and who isn't. I hate that my life doesn't have order anymore. Yet, you don't even seem fazed by this."

He leaned back against the seat. "I'm processing. It's what I do best. Get the facts. Lay them all out and figure out what they mean. Then, make up my mind. But right now, I don't feel like I have all the facts. So, I can't be fazed or not fazed. I just ... am."

"Doesn't it bother you that we could be the reincarnation of two people from a hundred years ago?"

"Key word, could." Ian b.u.mped his head against the frame of the car a few times. "Lexi has told me hundreds of times that she's never wrong. But, I just don't know." He turned toward Taylor. "We are who we are. You're sitting right here next to the real me. Those people in the picture aren't actually us."

"I know. I know. You're right." She ran her fingers around her tattoo band again. "But this ... this symbol ... this thing on my finger. Your finger. That has to mean we're the same, right?"

"I have a freckle on my a.s.s, Taylor. So does my dad. Does that mean we're the same person?"

She laughed and fell back against the seat. "Ugh! All this is so frustrating. There are so many b.a.l.l.s up in the air."

"Can I just say that that a.n.a.logy really doesn't work? Especially when talking to a guy." He started the car and navigated them onto the street. "Because, you know, our b.a.l.l.s just don't float."

More chuckles came from her. "Strings to pull? Is that better? It's like intertwining stories, one crossing over the other. I'd swear, though, something inside me says they're all connected. And, like we all know, history does like to repeat itself. I'm just waiting for it to explode right in front of my eyes."

A right took them farther away from downtown. "Well ... when it all boils over, flames up, sparks, whatever, we'll see what happens. But right now, I'm getting hungry, and Missy's waiting. Well, probably not waiting as she doesn't know how to sit still, but you women know what I mean."

Taylor heaved a sigh.

"Go ahead. Say whatever it is you're holding back." Ian stopped at a traffic light, the blare of another car's radio rumbling theirs.

"The whole last week has been one weird experience after another, and I can't explain any of it. Can't explain why I have a permanent ring on my finger, either, but for some reason, I never really cared before-or not enough to do anything about it. Now, though? It might connect me to a woman from forever ago who doesn't exist anymore. And that really freaks me out."

Ian turned onto a road with a mix of gorgeous homes, some in mid-repair and others in downright need of being torn down. "Well, since you don't like mysteries, go in reverse. Pick this one apart. Deconstruct instead of build." The car stopped at the curb in front of a dilapidated Victorian. "Just don't do it with a sledgehammer. That obviously doesn't come with a happily ever after."

a a a Taylor rose from the car, wishing for a moment she could think beyond the flurry of questions running through her head. A photo of a person who could be buried in my yard, found by some woman who saw it on a wall. A tattoo I have on my own finger. Two people who look like us. What in high heavens is going on?

"Ian!" The high pitched voice forced Taylor to turn. A tiny woman with a crop of short, black hair and a smile as wide as her face bounced as she made her way down the weed-strewn path. "You made it." She stopped when she reached Ian, held out her fist and waited.

He stepped to her, b.u.mped it and grabbed her, twirling her around in a fierce hug.

"I'm so excited you guys got to come by!" When he let go, the woman walked closer, her hand outstretched. "I'm Missy, Tripp's sister." The resemblance to her brother showed in her eyes.

Taylor extended her hand to meet Missy's.

"It's so good to finally meet you," Missy said. "Working together by fax and email doesn't give you nearly the same impression, and Ian there wouldn't say boo about you." She wagged a finger in Taylor's direction. "I knew something was up months ago." Missy slid her hand back but stopped. "Is it real? Did it hurt like h.e.l.l to have one done like this all around your finger? I've got a tat on my lower back, but there's enough flab there not to hit bone." She turned Taylor's hand sideways and flat again.

Thanks to the itching, Taylor hadn't replaced her ring to cover the design.

Missy dropped her hand. "Oh, sorry. I'm the nosiest of everyone, aren't I?" She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I want to apologize first that I won't be able to do dinner. The owners of this house-" She thumbed over her shoulder toward the gorgeously decrepit home. "-came to town today, too. So, I only get to hang right now. Then, we're camping inside for the night."

"Camping?"

"Oh, yeah. It's how I learn about a house. Wanna check it out? Missy asked.

Getting to the core of a condemned house like the one before would bring normalcy to her life. If only she had one of her own to renovate, she'd have done it-in a heartbeat, as they said in the south. "Oh, yeah. Show me the bones."

Taylor cringed as she said it. Ian chuckled, and Missy tilted her head as if to ask, "What's the joke?"

16.

"Was this condemned?" Taylor asked. The exterior retained only half of its cover, with siding planks hanging as if spider webs held them up.

Missy's eyes sparkled. "Probably should have been."

Ian took a step through the dirt-encrusted yard. "Looks like you have your work cut out for you, Miss."

"You have no idea. The last tenants left half their furniture, plus it sat for a while, and pipes burst from a winter storm. It's like a dream project because the new guys want to incorporate whatever went on when it was first built in 1803. I've done all this research on homes from this area and from that time period. Got my tent all set up."

"Why are you ... camping here?" Taylor had never heard of a designer going to such extremes. In most cases, they gave her plans, color palettes and instructions. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Like I said, I do things a little differently. Come on." She waved them forward.

Ian hung back. Taylor stepped with Missy but glanced over her shoulder. "Coming?"

"Nah. You go ahead. Looks a little-"

"Oh, my G.o.d, Ian." Missy stomped her miniature frame back to Ian, grabbed his arm and pulled. Despite her stature, he followed. She inclined her head, nudging Taylor forward through female-only communication methods. "Go up the front steps but stay to the right. The left planks are kinda shot," Missy said, still dragging Ian along.

"Afraid of a little dirt, Ian?" Taylor smiled at him, remembering his horror at her self-imposed shed demolishing activity of the week before.

Once inside, Missy let go, and the three of them stood in a two-story foyer Taylor could envision Scarlett O'Hara walking through.

"I remember getting all your sketches and interiors for Lexi and Tripp's house. They were amazing, Missy. You totally nailed the feel of the place." Taylor walked through dust, dirt, grime and history. Plaster fell. Wallpaper peeled. Boards popped up through the floor, yet the house held an air about it-no one could deny it would have once been beautiful. Her hands itched to dig into the wood, to peel back the layers and help in the renovation process.

"I live and breathe my surroundings," Missy said.

"I'm sorry?" Taylor ran a hand over the newel post, a solid mahogany, pockmarked and scratched.

"When I design a place, I stay in it. Let it speak to me. I wait to hear what the house wants instead of just what the owners want."

"What the house wants?" Taylor tried to keep her voice normal, but suspicion and wariness had run rampant in the past few hours, and around Lexi and Tripp. Though, that would explain how Missy had given Tripp and Lexi's house so much intrinsic character.

Missy giggled. "It's okay if you don't believe in my methods. I'm a little eccentric. I get that from my brother." She nudged Ian with her elbow. "This house though ... well, it doesn't want to speak. It's gone quiet, and I think a bit resentful."

A knock and sing-song, "h.e.l.lo," had them all turning toward the front door. "We're early, Missy. Sorry!" A woman with a bright shock of red hair pulled in a tail at her nape and a man with the darkest black hair as anything Taylor had seen, joined them.

"No problem, Joyce. Randy." Missy nodded to both of them and offered them each a handshake. "This is my cousin Ian-"

Cousin? Taylor withheld the laugh. The fact they shared not a bit of family resemblance should have clued in the two new people.

"-and his girlfriend, Taylor."

Girlfriend? Taylor refrained from commenting and with a nod and shake, noted the Celtic pattern snaking up Randy's arm and the full sleeve of tattoos on the other.

"It's so nice to meet you all." Joyce held her hands up and spun once. "What do you think of our place?"

"It's a junk heap," Ian said.

"It's got so much potential," Taylor said.

Joyce and Randy both burst into laughter, b.u.mping into each other in the process. She advanced toward Taylor, her hand outstretched again.

Taylor's immediate instinct told her to turn and run, but she firmed her feet against the floor. When did you become a coward?

Joyce took Taylor's hand, closed her eyes and hummed. Those eyes popped open again no more than a second later. "Has she spoken to you?"

Taylor pulled from her grasp. "Say what?" She stopped the jiggle in her arm by making a tight fist.

"People who are connected in past lives can often communicate with themselves. I was just wondering if she has?"

"How-Wha-" Taylor stared hard at Ian, though how he'd have said anything when they were together the whole time and they'd just met Joyce, she didn't know. Had he shared with Missy before they arrived? Before they flew up? "She who? What are you talking about?" Ian gave only a blank stare. A switch to Missy offered a bright smile. Taylor swallowed hard. "How-"

"You see possibility in a building that is crumbling down upon itself. I see beyond our life today-into the shadows. Call me a psychic if you must, but I prefer Spiritual Naturalist. I am one with the earth." Joyce's smile never left her face.

Taylor's breath backed up in her lungs.

"But, you know nothing about what I'm talking about, do you?" The grin stayed in place.

Missy stepped forward. "I was just giving them the grand tour. You want to come with me? See where I'm set -up for tonight?"

"Of course."

Missy went with Joyce and Randy to the base of the stairs. Three steps up, Joyce stopped, turned and held out her right hand, palm up. "Knowledge is shared in order that we do not repeat our faults but persevere into the future." She swirled with her left index finger overtop her outstretched appendage. "Just something to think about."

Missy offered a slight shrug, and Taylor stared, more dumfounded than before their conversation.

Ian appeared at her shoulder, his lips at her ear-a welcome distraction. "She's a bit of a freak, now isn't she?"