Книга - Past Secrets, Present Love

Past Secrets, Present Love
Lois Richer


To: Jared From: Kelly Re: More shocking news As director of Tiny Blessings adoption agency, I appreciate the unbiased way you've reported all the scandalous information that has come out recently. Well, I have another exclusive for you: investigator Ross Van Zandt broke the news to me last night - I am the missing baby, the child taken from her mother at birth.It was quite a shock, but with God's help, I can come to terms with this. I'm hoping Ross will help me uncover my biological father's identity, but he seems hesitant. And off the record the handsome PI has caught more than my professional interest!







Something about Kelly’s reaction—as if she’d drawn her shield up—bothered him. She was hurting and it was his fault. He should have found a better way to tell her

Ross admitted what had been lurking in the back of his brain for weeks. He wanted to see Kelly Young without the shadows clouding her eyes, relaxed, carefree. He wanted to be the one who saw behind that icy mask of tightly leashed control.

Kelly Young had everything he’d been denied—two parents who had adored her, a job she clearly loved, friends who were nearby whenever she needed them. Her life was full, happy, the kind of tale children’s storybooks were made of. Reaching out to Sandra Lange would cost her so little.

Yet she seemed terribly afraid of even meeting with Sandra now.

Why?

TINY BLESSINGS: Giving thanks for the neediest of God’s children, and the families who take them in!



FOR THE TWINS’ SAKE—

Jillian Hart (LI#308, July 2005)

BROUGHT TOGETHER BY BABY—

Carolyne Aarsen (LI#312, August 2005)

ON THE DOORSTEP—

Dana Corbit (LI#316, September 2005)

THE CINDERELLA PLAN—

Margaret Daley (LI#320, October 2005)

HER CHRISTMAS WISH—

Kathryn Springer (LI#324, November 2005)

PAST SECRETS, PRESENT LOVE—

Lois Richer (LI#328, December 2005)




LOIS RICHER











Sneaking a flashlight under the blankets, hiding in a thicket of Caragana bushes where no one could see, pushing books into socks to take to camp—those are just some of the things Lois Richer freely admits to in her pursuit of the written word. “I’m a bookaholic. I can’t do without stories,” she confesses. “It’s always been that way.”

Her love of language evolved into writing her own stories. Today her passion is to create tales of personal struggle that lead to triumph over life’s rocky road. For Lois, a happy ending is essential.

“In my stories, as in my own life, God has a way of making all things beautiful. Writing a love story is my way of reinforcing my faith in His ultimate goodness toward us—His precious children.”




Past Secrets, Present Love


Lois Richer







Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Lois Richer for her contribution to the TINY BLESSINGS series.

This book is dedicated to moms all over the world who love above and beyond. You are reflections of the Father’s love for His children.

And this book is dedicated to my mom who never believed them when they said it couldn’t be done. You go, Mom!


You are the Lord, You alone; You have made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their hosts, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them; and You preserve all of them; and the host of heaven worships You.

—Nehemiah 9:6


Ross—From the Scottish or Latin, which means “from the headlands.” It is a German variant of Roswald or the English variant of Roswell or Russell.

Kelly—From the Irish, which means “warrior or bright-minded.” It was originally a boys’ name.

Sandra—A variation of the Greek Alexandra, which means “defender of mankind.” A feminine form of Alexander.


Dear Reader,

Welcome back! I hope you’ve enjoyed visiting Chestnut Grove once more as Kelly deals with a lifelong insecurity that has kept her from relaxing in God’s love. In each of us there is a kernel of disbelief that, if not checked, can grow until it saps our trust and faith in God and His divine plan for our lives.

My prayer for you is that you will lean on Him when life gets too much, that you will trust even though the struggles seem too hard. Know that He is there, waiting for you to call on Him. He will answer.

Blessings,









CONTENTS


LOIS RICHER

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen




Chapter One


You or Ben Cavanaugh may be the adult child of Sandra Lange.

The words echoed through Kelly Young’s brain with the rhythm of a marching band on Independence Day. No matter how furiously she worked at cleaning out the old utility closet, she couldn’t silence them.

“Aren’t you leaving to get ready for Ben and Leah’s wedding?”

She glanced up, saw Florence Villi scowling at her and nodded. Scour was a word that suited the cleaning lady at Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency to a T.

“I’m leaving soon,” Kelly assured her. “Just a few things to tie up first.”

“You’re getting to be a workaholic.” Florence’s brown eyes hardened as she noticed what Kelly was doing. “I’m not responsible for any messes you make, and I’ve already cleaned this hall.”

“I’ll clean it up—don’t worry, Florence.”

“You looking for something special?”

“Just a little more space.” Kelly lifted out yet another broom, held it up. “Do you ever use this stuff?”

“Not my job to clean out all the closets in this building,” Florence grumbled. “I keep my stuff in the basement. I’m not responsible for this.”

“I wasn’t implying you were, I was just wondering—” Kelly felt the anger emanating from the other woman and decided retreat was wise. “Never mind. Are you working late tonight?”

“Same as any other night, isn’t it?” Florence eyes narrowed. “Nobody ever had a complaint about that. I do my job and I do it right.”

She did, Kelly agreed. Usually not with a happy face, but Florence kept the place clean and minded her own business. Except for the time she’d leaked information to the Richmond Gazette about some botched birth records. As she watched the over-painted lips on that grim mouth turn down, Kelly decided not to remind her of that faux pas. Florence already didn’t like her, why make it worse?

“I suppose everyone else is gone,” she murmured, trying to ease some of the articles back inside the closet.

“They left long ago. Could be that they all have people at home waiting for them.”

Unlike you.

Having uttered her unspoken little dig, Florence pushed her mop down the hallway, nose in the air as she studiously avoided the mess Kelly had made.

“‘Be ye kind, one to another. Tenderhearted, forgiving—’ ” Kelly recited her mother’s favorite verse until some of her frustration drained away. Carol Young had loved life, refused to let someone else’s unpleasantness drain her joy. She’d set a good example for her daughter.

Thank goodness her mom had never known about Sandra Lange and this search she was conducting for her long-lost child. Of course Kelly wasn’t Sandra’s child. It must be Ben.

Kelly checked her watch, gasped. How had it grown so late? Ben and Leah’s wedding was important to her, there was no way she wanted to miss it. Fortunately her house was only minutes away. She could make it if she hurried.

“You are not watching me do this, Mom,” she muttered as she shoved the jumble of brooms back into the closet willy-nilly. Of course they wouldn’t go in as easily as they’d fallen out. Kelly wiggled and pushed, determined to get them inside, but something solid seemed in the way.

“What on earth is back here anyway?” she grumbled, standing on a gallon paint can to peer over the mess. “A filing cabinet? What’s that doing here? It can’t have anything in it.”

Kelly scoffed at the very idea. There was no way Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency kept its outdated files in a utility closet, not with her as director. Although stranger things had happened under the previous director’s orders. She stretched an arm over a pile of old rags and yanked on the handle to open it, but the drawer of the cabinet wouldn’t open.

“Figures.” Her watch bleeped the time. One hour and counting. “Rats!” She abandoned that effort and stuffed everything else inside. By using her body to hold the door closed, she managed to finally lock it.

“Later,” she promised the steel gray door. No doubt there’d been some reason to put a lock on a utility closet. To keep people away from the mops, maybe? Mocking her own foolishness, Kelly got her coat.

It took five minutes to get home and fifteen minutes to shower, fix her hair and change. A record by any standard. The ringing phone delayed her a few minutes more, but when no one answered, Kelly quickly hung up. Then she was out the door and on the road.

At least for ten minutes.

That’s when the ability to steer suddenly left her car. Without warning she found herself careening all over the road. Something was definitely wrong!

Kelly prayed for help as she tried to maneuver around a parked car with a combination of braking and intermittent steering ability. She touched the brakes just a little too hard and found herself sliding across an ice-slicked street toward a child with a sack of newspapers who was doing his best to skate his sneakers across the road in front of her.

Kelly held her breath, tapping gently on the brake pedal as she dragged at the stiff, unyielding wheel, afraid to honk lest she frighten him into turning into her path. As it was, he slid a little too close. She jerked the wheel hard right, begging it to obey.

At the last moment the car turned and skidded over the sidewalk. Kelly came to a shuddering halt smacked against a massive oak tree, right beside the busiest intersection in town. The little boy glared at her, then walked away, mouth pursed in an angry line.

Kelly switched off the key before resting her forehead against the steering wheel.

“That was close, Lord,” she whispered, her entire body weak with thoughts of what could have happened. What on earth was wrong with the steering? She’d checked with the dealer a few weeks ago, made sure she was prepared for whatever nature tossed out. Obviously her steering wasn’t okay. Maybe she’d bought a lemon.

Once she’d regained her equanimity, Kelly dragged her coat lapels over her best red silk dress and climbed out of the car to inspect the damage. Her silk-clad ankles stung at contact with the wet snow.

The front bumper was a mess, the tire on the passenger side was half-flat and the undercarriage was lodged against the cement curb, making it perfectly clear that she was going nowhere fast.

“Out joyriding, Miss Young?”

Kelly wheeled around, met the dark blue gaze of Ross Van Zandt. As usual, one hank of dark hair flopped over his left eye. More than a hint of dark stubble accented the rigid line of his jaw. He had the kind of jaw people sculpted—rock solid, determined.

He cleared his throat. Kelly realized she’d been staring at him. Her face flushed a hot embarrassing red.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” It would have to be him, wouldn’t it? The one man in town she did not want to see.

“I just wondered if you’d begun living on the wilder side of life.” His voice held that hint of amusement that always made her bristle. One black eyebrow lifted as he took in her predicament. “Party dress, fast car—you know.”

“Oh, of course,” she muttered, gritting her teeth against the icy chill that her silk dress did nothing to block. “Party animal that I am, there’s nothing I like more than parking my car against a tree when I’ve just put on my best heels and a silk dress.”

“You’re on your way to the wedding.” It wasn’t a question. He leaned over and unlatched the passenger side door, thrust it open. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride. You don’t have much time.”

“But my car—” Kelly hugged into the warmth of her white cashmere coat while he pulled out a cell phone, dialed, then began speaking.

“Vinnie? Ross. Got a little problem.”

In less than fifty words he’d conveyed the problem and formed a solution. That was Ross. Succinct didn’t begin to describe his use of language.

The wind was bitter, filled with piercing bits of ice that stung when they hit the skin. Kelly shivered again, wondered if she’d be doing something illegal if she left. But then Ross was a private detective. He’d know all about this stuff, wouldn’t he?

“I’ll drop you off, then come back and watch while Vinnie loads your car and tows it. Now will you get in?”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks. Just let me get my bag.” Kelly stepped daintily through the soggy mess underfoot, dragged out her black beaded bag and her car keys, then locked the door. By the time she made it into Ross’s car her feet felt like icicles.

He watched, one inquisitive eyebrow raised, as she slipped her toes out of the delicate shoes, burying them in the carpet.

“Very pretty, Ms. Young, but not exactly weather-appropriate footwear,” he mumbled, then quickly flicked the heater on high.

“They’re very appropriate. It’s a wedding, not a trapper’s festival,” she snapped, then wished she hadn’t. “Sorry,” she murmured when his eyebrows rose.

Kelly hated snarky people and had long ago decided not to become one of them. But something about Ross Van Zandt and his piercing scrutiny always made her tense. Maybe it was because he made a living probing into people’s secrets. More likely it was because he was the one Sandra Lange had hired to find her child. That would be reason enough, especially since it was Ross who only days ago had informed her and Ben Cavanaugh that one of them might be the long lost child Sandra had been looking for. He had no idea how wrong he was.

Of course, Kelly felt sorry for Sandra. As director of Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency, Kelly spent every day dealing with people who were giving up their children for adoption. It was often a difficult and heartrending event. Sandra must have suffered terribly when she was forced to give up her own child.

But Kelly did not want to be her daughter.

Of course she knew she’d been adopted, had known it for years. In fact, she’d been the first child whose adoption Tiny Blessings had handled back when Barnaby Harcourt had been in charge. But being adopted had never been an issue with Kelly. Marcus and Carol Young were the best parents a girl could have. Living with them, being part of their family—that’s all she’d ever known. They’d showered her with so much love she never wanted anything to spoil it, especially not now when they were both gone, especially not with Sandra Lange’s problems.

“How’d you do it?”

Kelly twisted in her seat, stared at Ross. “Excuse me?”

“Your car, pasted against that tree. How’d it happen?”

“I’m not sure.” She tried to recreate the sequence of events in her head. “The steering seemed wonky,” she mused.

“Wonky?” Ross put on his left signal and waited for a car to pass before he turned toward the church. “What does that mean?”

“Soft, spongy. Unresponsive.” What part didn’t he understand?

“Has it happened before?” He frowned when she shook her head. “It’s a new model, isn’t it?”

Kelly nodded. “I just got it in the fall.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a maintenance problem. Maybe some manufacturing defect is to blame.”

Remembering, she shuddered.

“I’m just glad I wasn’t on a freeway when it happened. As it was I missed a little boy by inches.” She chided herself for forgetting her manners. “I’m glad that you were driving past. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

She studied his thick jacket and jeans. “You’re not going to Ben and Leah’s wedding?”

“Nah. I’m not all that big on church stuff.” He pulled up near the door, glanced around. “Looks like you beat the bridal party to the church.”

“That’s a blessing. Thank you very much for coming to my rescue and for handling the tow for me, Ross.” She handed over her keys, then rested her hand on the door handle, wondering if she should say it. “You know they’d love you to come. Why don’t you at least attend the reception?”

“I’m waiting for a call from the lab,” he told her. “About the DNA tests.”

Kelly froze. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Both she and Ben had given samples for testing last week.

Don’t let me be her daughter!

“I didn’t realize you’d find out so soon,” Kelly whispered, staring at her feet. They were bare. She used her toes to grope for her shoes.

“You mean you were hoping.” His voice held a hint of condemnation.

“I have a full, rich life,” she told him, bristling a little. “I loved my parents. They gave me a wonderful life. It’s not that easy to suddenly accept that someone I’ve known for years could be my biological mother.”

“Someone you feel would take away the glory from your mother, is that what you’re saying?”

“I guess. Sort of.” It was more complicated than that, but Kelly had deliberately avoided probing her feelings to discover what lay beneath her sense of fear about this situation.

“Sandra’s not asking for anything, Kelly.” He reached out, touched the hand she’d clenched on her lap. “She just wants to know the child she gave birth to all those years ago.”

“So you’ve said.” Kelly opened the door, felt the sting of the cold crisp air hit her in a wave. Impulsively she turned, faced him. “But I already had a wonderful mother whom I dearly loved,” she blurted out. “Nobody can take her place.”

Kelly didn’t wait for the argument she knew would follow. She didn’t want to hear it. Instead she swung her legs out of the car, and rose. Then she bent and met his frowning stare.

“Tell Vinnie I’ll manage without the car until he gets it fixed. And thanks for the ride. I appreciate it very much.” She swung the door closed and hurried toward the church door, stuffing away all the doubts that had surfaced in the last few minutes.

“Please let it be Ben,” she murmured over and over as she hung up her coat, then was shown to her seat. “Please, please let Sandra’s child be Ben and not me.”

She sat in her pew, unable to relax until Reverend Fraser had taken his place at the front and Olivia, Ben’s precocious seven-year-old daughter began her stroll down the aisle, preceding the bride. She heard a rustle at the back and twisted in time to see Caleb and Anne sneak into a back pew. So they’d made it back from their honeymoon for the wedding! Caleb still had a week off from his duties as youth minister for the Chestnut Grove Youth Center and she’d specifically told Anne to forget about the books at Tiny Blessings for two weeks. Kelly suspected they’d disappear as quietly as they’d arrived to finish celebrating their own nuptials.

Anne looked so happy, so content. A frisson of envy twigged at her. It must be nice to have somebody to share with, somebody to help when life got to be too much.

Kelly pushed away the longing and turned back to concentrate on the ceremony. By the time the wedding march sounded, she’d almost convinced herself that everything in her world was just the same as it had always been.

Almost.



He didn’t belong here—not among these happy people, certainly not at a wedding reception where people celebrated marriage. The only thing Ross Van Zandt knew about marriage was that it didn’t work. Not for his dysfunctional family anyway.

Ross thrust away the past and concentrated on finding her among the guests now milling freely through the hall. He’d deliberately waited until the toasts were made, the speeches given, hoping not to ruin this lovely day.

Kelly was seated at a table with three other young women. Sandra had told him that four women had been friends for many years—Meg, Rachel, Pilar and Anne, who wasn’t at the table—and had a habit of meeting at Sandra’s Starlight Diner for brunch on Sundays. It was clear from their giggles and boisterous laughter now that they were trying to talk Kelly into joining them. By contrast, Kelly’s response sounded more restrained. He wondered if she was always so uptight, so restricted. If she ever let herself forget all the rules and relax.

“Ross?”

He wheeled around at the sound of his own name, found the groom standing to one side of the doorway, partially hidden by the massive potted palm that guarded the entrance.

“Hey, Ben. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Ben shook his hand while he studied his face. “You need to see Kelly,” he guessed.

“Yeah, I do. I just got a call from the lab and—”

Ben held up one hand. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. I’m not Sandra Lange’s child.”

“I was going to tell you after I told her.” As an apology, it lacked a certain something. Ross sighed. “Could my timing be any lousier?”

“It doesn’t matter, man. Really.”

“Yes, it does. I haven’t been able to find anything to lead me to your birth parents. That’s got to bother you.”

“Maybe it should,” Ben admitted with a grin. “And probably it will when I’ve got time to sit down and think about it. But right now all I can think of is that God gave me the most beautiful woman in the world to be Olivia’s mother and my wife. We just kissed Olivia goodbye. My brother is taking her to his house. Now Leah’s waiting for me to get out to that car so we can start the first phase of our life together. That’s pretty awesome, don’t you think?”

Ross smiled broadly. He liked Ben’s attitude. “Yes, it is.”

“Later I’ll have a lot of questions I’ll want answers to, and maybe I’ll hire you to find the truth, but not today. Today is for celebrating.”

“And you’re wasting time standing here because?” Ross raised one eyebrow.

“Because I forgot that I left my car keys with my dad. I was hoping to snag someone who wouldn’t mind getting them for me. Leah’s a wonderful woman and more patient than most, but she’s sitting in the car waiting to go on our honeymoon. If I show my face in that room again we’ll be delayed even longer. I barely got away unscathed the first time we left.”

Joy, anticipation and a certain confidence filled Ben’s voice. Ross’s discomfort at telling him the news today of all days eased a fraction. The man was clearly looking forward to some time alone with his new wife. The least he could do was help him.

“I’ll get the keys,” he told the beaming groom. “Stay out of sight and I’ll be right back.”

“Great! Thanks a lot.”

Ross stepped into the beautifully decorated reception room and breathed in the scent of flowers that mingled with burning candles, fully aware of exactly when the conversation stalled as curious eyes fell on him. Kelly’s friends were less than subtle in their nudges and winks, but Kelly ignored them to stare at him, a tiny frown pleating the smooth skin of her forehead.

Ross kept his course steady, approached Ben’s parents and quietly explained the problem. His father slipped him the keys while teasing, “Your P.I. technique of going unnoticed needs a little work,” he chuckled.

Ross tossed back his own witty retort then strode toward the door. Kelly rose, said something to Meg, and met him halfway.

“So you did come,” she murmured, her voice low, for him alone. “But you’ve missed the bride and groom.”

“Not quite. I’m on my way to see him right now.”

“Ben’s still around? Oh.” She trailed along beside him toward the door, stepped through and looked around. A soft chuckle burst from her. “Ben, why are you skulking behind that palm?”

“Shh!” He took the keys Ross held out and grinned. “Thanks a lot, pal.” He paused, spared a look for Kelly, glanced at Ross, saw the shake of his head and nodded once, understanding immediately that she didn’t yet know the truth. “See you guys later,” was all he said before he turned and disappeared.

“Well.” Kelly watched him for a few moments then turned to face Ross. “Are you coming in to share the rest of the party?”

“Maybe later, thanks.” He took a deep breath. The time was now. “Kelly, have you got a minute? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

“Certainly.” She stood, tall, slim and poised, waiting innocently. “Go ahead. Is it about my car?”

He’d hoped for a quiet time when no one was around, when no one could interrupt. The soft sounds of music, laughter and the tinkle of glasses wafted out from the reception. Apparently this was as good as he was going to get.

“The lab phoned.” There was no easy way to say it. “The DNA was conclusive. You are Sandra Lange’s biological daughter.”

She froze—there was no other way to describe it. Her entire body slowly immobilized until she resembled a statue in the town square. Her brown eyes remained open but Ross doubted if she saw anything through the glaze shielding them. Her clear, pure skin blanched, then became a marble mask that gave away no emotion.

“Kelly?”

“Yes?” She faced him politely.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, thank you.”

So polite. He waited, leaning on one foot first, then the other, expecting a reaction—something. Kelly Young offered nothing but icy silence. Impatient, Ross scoured his brain for some answer to her strange response. He put himself in her place, tried to imagine how she must feel.

“Sandra doesn’t want anything from you, Kelly. Except maybe a chance to get to know you better. She’s a lonely woman who’s going through a traumatic fight with cancer. Her prognosis is good, she’s doing everything she can to make a full recovery. The diner is running smoothly so she has no worries there. The only end that’s been left untied is finding the child she gave birth to thirty-five years ago. That child is you.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

“Do you want to see her?”

Kelly seemed to snap out of her fog, faced him with a frown.

“Now? It’s nine-thirty at night, and I’m at a wedding reception. I’m sure Sandra is busy.”

“I don’t think she’s too busy to see her daughter.”

She gaped at his words, then quickly shook her head, the multitoned blond facets in her chin-length hair catching the light of the massive chandelier overhead.

“I don’t—can’t see her just yet. I need some time to think about this.” Her hands knotted and unknotted as she stared at him. “I’m sure you can understand that.”

“Of course.” He motioned to the doorway, wondering if she ever just relaxed and let people see what was inside. “Do you want to go back to the party?”

“No.” She was firm about that. Her eyes darkened to bittersweet-chocolate drops. “Not now. Most of the festivities are over anyway. I—I’d rather go home.”

“I’ll give you a ride, if you want.” He felt sorry for her then. Beautiful, composed Kelly Young looked so confused, as if she couldn’t quite make sense of her world.

She opened her mouth to decline, then obviously realized that her car was still at the garage.

“Thanks,” she murmured. It took her only a moment to say goodbye to her friends and retrieve the little bag she’d brought. She handed her ticket stub to the attendant and smiled her thanks when Ross held her cashmere coat open. “I’m ready.”

“My car’s in the parking garage. Do you want to wait out front?”

“I’ll go with you.”

Despite the height of her heels, Kelly matched his stride with no problem. She offered little by way of conversation so Ross tossed around for something to say.

“Was it a good wedding?”

“Aren’t all weddings good?” she asked, one perfectly arched brow lifted. “But, yes, this was a lovely wedding. Choosing to marry on the third day of the new year was a great idea. A fresh start, a fresh year.”

Once started, Kelly kept talking. Great food, great decorations, great music. Everything was great or wonderful or fantastic. Ross knew she was simply marking time until he pulled up in front of her house, filling the spot a sleek silver car had just vacated.

“I’ll walk you up,” he offered, but she waved one hand in decline.

“I’ll be fine. You probably have somewhere to be. Don’t worry about me.”

He ignored that, lending an arm for her to cling to as she balanced precariously on the icy path. She flashed him a smile once they reached the door.

“Thank you for saving me from a broken neck.”

“You’re welcome.” He waited till she’d unlocked the door. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Of course.” She kept her face averted, refused to meet his eyes. “Thank you very much. Good night.”

“Take care.”

Kelly responded in kind, then closed the door.

Ross waited a few moments on the porch, leaning on a column as he watched the inside lights flare on. After a moment he slowly walked back to his car, his mind recreating the forlorn beauty of her face when he’d given her the news tonight.

What was Kelly Young so afraid of?

As he drove back to his apartment, Ross ruminated on Sandra Lange, pictured her sad green eyes peering at him, her newly grown silver-blond hair a shimmer of fuzz that feathered her scalp.

“If I could just know for sure,” she whispered to him that first day when she’d hired him to find her child. “Then maybe I could let it all go.”

Since then she’d become like a second mother to Ross, fussing with worry about the hours he spent on her case, the move he’d made from Richmond to Chestnut Grove to facilitate his work here, the time he’d spent following leads that ended in blanks. He’d never known concern like that, especially not now since his mother’s Alzheimer’s had made him a stranger to her. Maybe that’s why he felt an odd responsibility to Sandra, a need to be sure she was all right. She’d become closer to him than his mother and so he did whatever he could to help her realize her goal.

It struck him that his part in this story was over, that he’d done what Sandra had asked, found the child she’d lost. He should be thinking about moving back to Richmond.

But all he could think about was Kelly—a slim, pale woman who held her emotions inside as if she were afraid someone wouldn’t like her if they saw the truth.

He’d just rocked her world with his news. She would need time to think and digest what the knowledge could mean. Ross decided to visit Sandra while he gave Kelly an hour to regroup. Then he’d call, check up on her. Sandra would want him to do that.

But as he drove to Sandra’s, Ross knew that concern wasn’t all he was feeling. Something about Kelly’s reaction—as if she’d drawn her shields up, enclosed herself behind them—bothered him. She was hurting and it was his fault. He should have found a better way to tell her.

Ross admitted what had been lurking in the back of his brain for weeks.

He wanted to see Kelly Young without the shadows clouding her eyes, relaxed, carefree. He wanted to be there to see her when she’d been freed from whatever held her back, he wanted to be the one who saw behind that icy mask of tightly leashed control.

Kelly Young had everything he’d been denied—two parents who had adored her, a job she clearly loved, friends who were nearby whenever she needed them. Her life was full, happy, the kind of tale children’s storybooks were made of. Reaching out to Sandra Lange would cost her so little.

Yet she seemed terribly afraid of even meeting with Sandra now.

Why?




Chapter Two


Kelly leaned against the door and listened to the engine of Ross’s car as he drove away. She was odd man out, alone. Again.

Her friends each had someone special in her life. She had no one. It was a pathetic admittance, but the truth could not be denied. Kelly had no desire to return to the reception. Ross’s news had leeched away the spirit of fun she’d shared with the others. Now all she could think about was Sandra Lange. She was Sandra Lange’s daughter. Sandra was her mother.

The knowledge filled her with unbearable angst that she couldn’t explain. It was fear, she knew that much. But the basis of it couldn’t bear exploring, not now. Kelly moved through the house slowly, scanning each room looking for something she could do to keep her hands busy, her mind occupied. But the big house was as neatly pristine as she’d always kept it. Just like the rest of her life.

Except for this business with Sandra. She skittered away from that. What to do?

Her mind flew to the storage closet she’d been cleaning at the office. Now there was a project that would take her complete attention. So what if it was ten o’clock at night—on a weekend?

She thought about it for the space of two seconds then bounded up the stairs to change her clothes. Clad in a thick gray wool sweater and black pants, she tied on her hiking boots, pulled on her parka, beret, scarf and gloves, then reached for the doorknob. The winking light on her answering machine made her pause.

“Hi, Miss Young. This is Vinnie at the garage. I took a look at your car and—well, I don’t know exactly how to say this. It looks like your steering has been tampered with. What I’m looking at had to be deliberate.” A sigh. “Maybe you better call me tomorrow or Monday. We’ll talk about it then. Bye.”

Tampered with? Surely he was mistaken—overreacting, perhaps. Nobody cared about her car, or about tampering with it. Besides, she kept it in the garage when she was home.

Still, he’d been so definite. Kelly had no idea how steering on a car worked, but she knew Vinnie knew his car stuff. If anybody could fix it, he could. Until then she’d walk back and forth to the office. It wasn’t that far and she needed the exercise after many Christmas indulgences. Kelly pulled open the door and stepped outside.

It was a lovely night—cold, clear, crisp. A promise of things to come?

Deliberately stuffing away thoughts of Sandra Lange, Kelly crunched down the street, admiring the lights and decorations that twinkled in the darkness. Usually she loved the holiday season. Celebrating Christ’s birth, welcoming in another year—they were beloved traditions her parents had taught her to note as milestones. It didn’t matter that the couple was gone now; she kept their traditions alive just the same, as a way of honoring them. Only this morning she’d written about the coming year in her journal.

I hope it’s a year I can move away from the past, put my mistakes behind me and look forward to the future. I need to be free of the fear. Unable to delineate exactly what she was afraid of and unwilling to explore it further, Kelly had stopped there. She only knew that worry had lurked at the back of her mind for years, as long as she could remember she’d had this dream that someday someone would show up and tell her it was all a lie, that nobody cared about her, that she was all alone.

Kelly stopped, turned around and looked back at her house. White Christmas lights glimmered and twinkled under the eaves, above the wooden snowmen her father had created so long ago. Her house, though lovely, was also a reminder of the past. She’d chosen it with Simon, before he’d told her he’d made a mistake, that he didn’t want to marry her. She loved the old colonial with its four big bedrooms, where she’d dreamed of tucking in her own children. Children she wasn’t so sure she’d ever have now.

Was that why she’d hung onto it when he’d left, to keep alive the dream?

The dream was gone. It was time to admit that to herself and stop waiting for Simon to return. He’d made it clear that last morning before summer holidays began.

“I’m taking a new job, a better one, in New York. I don’t want to hang around this pokey place forever, meeting at the diner for lunch, spending Sunday evenings with couples whose only interests are babies. I have big plans.”

Plans that didn’t include her. She knew that now, but then she couldn’t accept that he would walk away without even discussing it.

“What about me, Simon? I thought you loved me.”

“So did I. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

A mistake. The words had devastated her.

“I need freedom. You’re afraid of it. You won’t take on the challenge of life, Kelly. You sit in your comfy world at that adoption agency and you spend your days handing out babies. Why? Because everyone expects you to?” His scathing tone had hurt. “You could do so much more, but you’re afraid to venture beyond this place. I wanted to talk about moving, to discuss our future, but then I realized, you see your future here. I don’t.”

In a way, Simon had been right. The thought of leaving this place, of going to a spot where she knew no one, where she was the oddball, where nothing was familiar—that made her blood run cold. The only thing she didn’t understand was why.

The familiar tightness in her chest signaled tension that she didn’t want, so Kelly thrust away the past and sped up her steps. She concentrated on breathing so she couldn’t think of anything else. Within minutes she was unlocking the front door of Tiny Blessings, punching in her security code. She locked it solidly behind her, then climbed the steps to her office. Once she’d removed her parka and winter accessories, she hung them neatly, then glanced around.

Her office was as she’d left it—clean and orderly. No papers marred the blank surface of her desk. Not that she felt like doing paperwork anyway.

What then?

The closet. It was the weekend. She could drag everything into the hall and leave it there till tomorrow. No one would notice or complain, especially not Florence, who wouldn’t come back until four o’clock Monday afternoon.

Kelly picked up her keys and walked into the hall. As soon as she turned the lock, the door burst open and broom handles pushed their way out, one knocking her on the temple.

“Ouch! Stop that or I’ll throw the lot of you in the garbage,” she warned, glowering at them as she propped the offender in one corner. With the brooms and the massive pail out of the way, Kelly could remove several dented, and probably useless, half-full paint cans. That left enough room for her to squeeze inside.

“Okay, now what have we got here?” She grasped the handle of the top drawer of the filing cabinet and yanked, but aside from a groan, the drawer never budged. Kelly tried the bottom one. Locked.

Why would someone lock a filing cabinet they’d left in a storage closet?

“Because they don’t want anyone to look inside, dummy.” She grimaced at her own answer. “So now what do I do? Pry it open?”

She couldn’t think of any good reason why she shouldn’t know what was inside, so Kelly asked herself where she’d find something to pry it open with.

“Florence’s basement,” she muttered and turned to the door.

To her utter shock, the steel door slammed closed in her face.

“Hey!” She grabbed the handle and twisted it but the door didn’t open. “Open this door,” she yelled. “I’m locked inside.”

No answer.

“Florence? Can you let me out?”

But Florence never answered. She’d probably left long ago.

“Wait a minute.” Kelly recalled using her key to unlock the door. The lock was on the outside. She should be able to open the door from the inside. She slid her hands over the knob, tried to find a button, something, that would release the door. She found nothing. The knob would not turn.

Panic began to thrum inside her. There was no way this door should remain closed unless someone was deliberately preventing her from getting out.

“Let me out!” She lifted her hands, clenched them into fists and began banging. After several minutes, the only result she achieved was sore hands.

At least the light was still on. Kelly flopped down on the edge of the file cabinet and wondered how long she’d have to wait. Tomorrow was Sunday. The office would be closed all day. It was unlikely that Pilar, who placed Tiny Blessings’ children, would come to the office—she was a newlywed. And Anne and Caleb hadn’t stuck around after the wedding so she’d hardly come in to take a look at the agency’s books on the weekend. One by one, Kelly ticked off her employees, heart sinking at the realization that she was alone—and going to be here for a while.

But not by herself.

Someone was out there, someone had deliberately closed that door. Rising panic filled her throat and she had to fight for calm. So many questions whirled around her brain—questions like who and why and how did they get into the building.

“It looks like your steering has been tampered with.”

She’d dismissed Vinnie’s words too easily. Now they returned with greater impact. Someone had deliberately tampered with her car? Maybe that same someone had shut her in this room.

Fear crawled up and lodged itself in her brain as a voice sounded outside the door.

“Move out of town, Kelly Young. Forget about the past.” The voice wasn’t clear, but ragged, not unlike a hoarse whisper—a sound made by someone who didn’t want to be identified, or someone with a bad cold.

“Who are you?”

“There’s nothing in Chestnut Grove for you anymore. Leave before it’s too late.”

Leave? But this was her home. She’d been raised here, found friends here, been a part of the church all her life. Where would she go?

“Why? Just tell me why.” She waited for an answer. But the voice was gone. All that remained was an eerie silence filled with foreboding. She was alone—something she’d always dreaded.

Maybe not quite alone. Though the room wasn’t cold, Kelly shivered. She could feel evil waiting just outside that door.



Ross pulled up in front of Kelly’s house and scanned the yard. Three times he’d called her from Sandra’s, three times he’d heard her voice on the machine.

“Maybe she’s more upset than she let on. Please go talk to her,” Sandra had urged him. “I’ll feel better if I know she’s all right.”

Maybe Kelly wasn’t answering the phone on purpose. He got out of the car, walked up the path and rang the doorbell, waited. When she didn’t come to the door, he tried the knob.

“Kelly?” It was quarter past ten. Where would she go?

In a flash the answer was there. Tiny Blessings. She loved her work, was dedicated to finding the perfect home for every child. It had to be emotional, heartrending work and yet in the months he’d spent here he’d never seen her show the least amount of frustration.

Ross had learned a lot about her these past few months. Kelly Young rigidly adhered to every rule and regulation she’d set in place, but perhaps that was simply her way of dealing with the job. And of never making the same mistakes her predecessor, Barnaby Harcourt, had made. Mistakes that had only come to light a few months ago which she’d had to explain to the media. Though falsifying documents hardly classified as a mistake.

Ross knew Kelly was a stickler for routine. But if his revelation about her relationship to Sandra had caused more angst than he realized—He knocked again, twice. Bothered by the lack of response, Ross climbed back in his car and drove the few short blocks to the narrow stone-fronted building that housed Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency.

A big black car sat in front, in the no-parking zone, causing Ross to speculate that Kelly might be meeting someone. He knew from previous visits that Kelly’s office faced Main Street and he could see the light in her office, but no matter how many times he dialed, she didn’t answer the office phone. He parked behind the black car, where it was legal, and pulled on his gloves to protect his hands from the frigid air.

Ross checked the front door. Locked, of course. Kelly wouldn’t dream of leaving the building open to anyone who happened to pass by. Defeated, he returned to his car and sat in the cold and dark, trying to think of some way to contact her. It seemed important that Kelly not be alone tonight. Because of Sandra, he told himself.

From the corner of his eye, Ross saw a movement at the side of the building. He squinted into the darkness, watched a figure slip out an emergency exit door, wait at the edge of the building till a vehicle drove past, then scurry across the sidewalk and plunge into the poorly parked black car. With a squeal of tires it pulled away from the curb, red tail-lights disappearing into the night.

Not a client, Ross decided. Kelly would have let them out the front door. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Something wasn’t right. People with legitimate business didn’t sneak out side exits.

In two seconds he’d left his car and raced toward the door, which was slightly ajar, thanks to a chunk of ice that had caught in the frame. He dragged it open, stepped into the dimly lit hall and made sure the door was closed securely behind him.

The silence of the place irritated his already cranky nerves. Why didn’t she have some music playing, a radio talk show—something to break the ominous quiet of the old bank building?

Moving with stealth, he walked past the picture displays that lined the walls—Tiny Blessings’ children and their adoptive families. Another time he would have stopped to study them, but Ross glimpsed a sliver of light coming under Kelly’s office door and quickly rapped his knuckles against the solid oak, hoping he wouldn’t startle her.

“Kelly?”

No response. Ross peeked inside. The room was empty, but her coat hung neatly on the coatrack. So she was here. Somewhere.

He stepped back into the hall, wishing he knew where to find the switch that would illuminate the area instead of trying to see in this dim gray-green glow. He jerked to a halt just in time to avoid bumping into some objects littering the hall. What in the world?

Mops, brooms, a pail, paint cans—they were strewn all over. Messy. Now that wasn’t like Kelly. Not at all. He didn’t have time to think it through before his gaze snagged on a chair shoved under a doorknob, holding a gray metal door closed.

Why? his brain demanded. He worked the chair free, grasped the knob and tried to turn. The door wouldn’t open.

“Kelly? Are you in there?”

“Y-yes. I can’t get the door open.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, then concentrated on the task at hand.

“There was a chair blocking it. I’ve moved that but I can’t budge the knob. Is there a lock on the inside?”

“I—I don’t know. Just a minute.”

The doorknob rattled but didn’t turn. He tried to twist it, to no avail. Ross stepped back, studied it, caught a glimmer of silver.

“Just a minute. I see something.” A metal rod had been shoved under the door, tilting it just enough to jam it closed. He grabbed a mop handle and inserted it in the space. At last the metal rod rolled out. “Try the door now, Kelly.”

The knob turned, she stepped out and stood there, tall, slim and more afraid than he’d ever seen her. Her brown eyes looked glazed, glossy with unshed tears, and her hand trembled as she lifted it to smooth her shoulder-length sun-kissed strands of hair.

“Someone locked me in,” she whispered.

He could have handled the weak trembly note in her voice. He might even have managed to ignore the teardrop clinging to her long spiky lashes. But as he watched her face, saw how she grappled for that mantle of self-possession and couldn’t find it, he couldn’t ignore that.

Ross reached out, gathered her into his arms.

“It’s okay, Kelly. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Her hands wrapped around him and she clung for timeless moments.

He held her until the fragile weight of her body stopped shaking, until the strong, capable Kelly returned, took control and stepped away.

“Okay now?” he asked quietly.

She nodded.

“I think so. It was just a little nerve-wracking when I started thinking I’d be locked in there for two days. I didn’t think anyone would come into the office on the weekend.”

So she’d come here to be alone.

“How did you get it open?” She listened carefully as he explained. “That couldn’t have been an accident,” she whispered when he’d stopped speaking. “Could it?”

“I doubt it.” He frowned as suspicion niggled at the back of his mind. “Who would have done something like that?”

“I don’t know. I thought I heard something, someone. But I guess it was just nerves.”

She wasn’t telling the truth. Ross had been reading people for a long time and he knew Kelly Young wasn’t telling him something. That was okay. She could tell him later. But right now he needed some questions answered.

“Kelly, when I arrived I saw someone leaving via the side exit. They drove away in a black car. I didn’t get the plate number.”

“From the side? The emergency exit?” She bit her lip. “But it’s always kept closed. How could they get in? The building was locked up when I arrived.”

Maybe not as tightly as she thought, Ross surmised.

“I don’t know who it was. They were dressed in black, a smallish person—maybe a kid who’s angry at you, a teenager?”

“Angry? At me?” She blinked, her eyes dark and confused. “It’s possible, I guess, but I don’t think so.”

“Then maybe—”

Kelly’s eyes widened. She reached over and flicked on the hall light, then she bent over to pick up something from the floor.

“What’s that?”

“A note.”

The shaky tone was back, threading through her soft voice. Ross glanced down, saw the sheet of paper in her hands.

Leave town. Or pay the consequences.

Kelly felt Detective Zach Fletcher’s intensive scrutiny even though she wasn’t looking at him. Ross had insisted on calling him away from the wedding reception and Zach had come immediately. Now, half an hour later, Tiny Blessings was swarming with police.

“You’re sure you can’t tell me anything more?”

“I didn’t see anything, Zach. I was working in the closet. I turned to leave but the door slammed closed. I couldn’t get it open.”

“But you heard a voice?”

She nodded.

“It said there was nothing in town for me anymore and that I should leave before it’s too late. I told you all this.”

“Yes, you did. And they left this.” He stared at the note for a moment, flicked a finger against the plastic covering it, then glanced at her, his blue eyes softening. “Are you sure I can’t call Pilar? She’d want to be here. For that matter, so would Meg and Rachel.”

“Please, no. Nobody else needs to know about this right now. I’ve already spoiled your evening. I don’t want to ruin anyone else’s. You should be with Pilar, celebrating Ben and Leah’s wedding.”

He smiled. “We’ll celebrate, don’t worry. But I’m concerned about you. I don’t want you to go home alone.”

“I’ll go with her,” Ross volunteered.

Kelly jumped at the sound of his voice from behind her. She’d almost forgotten he was still there.

“You don’t have to—”

“Thanks, Ross. I’d really appreciate that.” Zach overrode her weak objections. “I’ll get the lab working on things as soon as I can, but with holidays and everything, it might take a while to get any answers.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be in town for a while longer.” Ross and Zach exchanged a funny look before Ross turned to her, raising one eyebrow. “Unless you object?”

Even the thought of being locked in that room again, with someone outside the door, whispering, it made Kelly shiver.

“I’d very much appreciate your help,” she murmured. “After the thing with the car and now this, I’m a little nervous.”

“What thing?” Zach was all ears while Ross explained the accident.

“I gave her a ride, then came back and watched while they towed the car. Vinnie should be able to tell you more when he gets back to work, but the way Kelly described her steering seemed odd for a simple malfunction.”

“Actually, Vinnie left a message on my machine.” She glanced from one ruggedly handsome face to the other. “I think he said the steering had been tampered with.”

Kelly watched the two men exchange a glance and wished she’d kept silent. Now they’d think she was paranoid. “It’s probably nothing, a mistake. In fact, I’m sure it’s a mistake.”

“I’ve never known Vinnie to make a mistake like that.” Zach scribbled something on a pad. “I’ll talk to him. In the meantime, why don’t you head home? We’ll finish here and lock up for you. I should be able to set the security system by myself, shouldn’t I?”

“Just press the set alarm button and leave within twenty seconds.” Kelly chewed her bottom lip. “Um, Zach? The system wasn’t on when I came in.”

“Wasn’t on?” More writing.

“I punched in my code, but I didn’t need it,” she explained. “It wasn’t on. I’m sure someone just forget to set it in the hectic rush before the wedding today.” She wasn’t going to blame Florence.

“Anybody ever forgotten that little detail before?” Zach’s blue eyes were dark as thunderclouds.

“No. Not that I know of.”

“Uh-huh.” He scribbled in his little book some more, then peered at her through his lashes. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t think so.” He kept staring at her, his gaze narrowed. “Really, Zach. I think that’s it.”

“Okay.” He flipped the pad closed. “Go home, Kelly. I’ll get hold of you if I need you again.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at her watch, grimaced. Quarter to eleven. What a way to spend an evening.

“I’ll take you whenever you’re ready,” Ross murmured.

“Thanks. I just have to get my things.”

Moments later they were in his car, rumbling toward Kelly’s home. When they arrived, she was surprised to see a police cruiser sitting outside, waiting.

“If you’ll go inside and check things out, ma’am,” the officer asked. “Zach asked me to make sure.”

She stared at him, the implication hitting home.

“You think someone has been here, in my house?” She felt a pressure on her arm, turned to study Ross’s face. “Surely no one would break in here?”

“He’s not saying they would,” Ross reassured. “He just wants to make sure you’re all right. Come on, Kelly. I’ll go with you. We’ll check things out together.”

She responded to the tug on her arm, followed Ross to the door. He took her keys, opened it and stepped inside, glancing around first, then waved her in. “Everything look the same as you left it?”

Her white cashmere coat was lying across the arm of the sofa where she’d thrown it, black heels nearby.

“I think so.”

“We’ll go through each room down here, move upstairs, then check out the basement. Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you.” His fingers grasped hers, squeezed. “You deserve some peace of mind after what just happened. Checking everything will ensure that.”

Kelly squeezed back, but kept her hand in his, drawing him along with her. She felt weak, silly, afraid—the emotions jumbled together as she took him from room to room, nodding each time he asked, “Okay?”

By the time they’d returned to the foyer she’d regained some of her equanimity. With an apologetic look, she slid her fingers from Ross’s.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise into her cheeks.

“Anytime,” he growled, grinning at her blush. Then he opened the door and addressed the officer. “We’ve been through the house. Everything looks fine.”

“Good. We’ll be patrolling past here every little while. You need anything, you dial 911.” He stared straight at Kelly, waiting for her nod.

“Thanks.” Ross closed the door, twisted the dead bolt, then turned to face her. “Would it be too much to ask for a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Of course not. I should have offered. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll put on some water to warm.”

Kelly found her feet moving slowly, as if by rote, and wondered why she couldn’t snap out of this cocoon that weighed her down. She wanted to tell Ross she was fine, that she could manage on her own. She didn’t want him to see her here in this big empty house, looking like a pathetic figure with no one in all of Chestnut Grove to turn to.

But wasn’t that exactly what she was?

“Have a seat. Would you like something to eat with your cocoa?” she asked, hoping he’d say yes.

Kelly had baked a mountain of things before Christmas, thinking she’d have plenty on hand when she invited people over. But holidays were family times and, because she hesitated to break into that laughing closeness that existed between reunited families who got together only once or twice a year, Kelly had ended up asking only a few guests. That left her with a freezer full of fattening food. Oh well, the food bank might take it.

“You wouldn’t have any chocolate cake, would you?” Ross asked. “I love chocolate cake, but no matter how well I read the cake mix instructions, I just can’t make a decent cake.”

The very thought of him mixing and blending made her smile, but she hid it by opening the fridge.

“You certainly are the man of the moment. I happen to have two of them sitting here, but only one is waiting to go to the church outing tomorrow.” She held the door open so he could see. “Is that what you’d like?”

At the sight of her mile-high chocolate layer surprise, his eyes grew huge. He licked his lips.

“Perfect. But are you sure you want to cut into one? If you were supposed to bring two—”

“Just one. But I always make two because the filling is a double recipe. Somehow it doesn’t taste right if you cut it in half so I always make two cakes. There’s plenty for you. I’ll give Pilar’s dad Salvador a quarter, take some to work, maybe even sneak a piece or two to Rachel’s father Charles if I think her mother won’t catch me.”

“Why shouldn’t she catch you?”

“Beatrice is vegan, vegetarian in the extreme. This cake is worse than red meat to her.” She giggled at his squinched-up face. “If nothing else, I can always throw what’s left away.”

“In the garbage?” Ross looked scandalized.

“What else? If I had a dog, I’d feed it to him, but then he’d probably get sick. It’s pretty rich,” she warned as she set the cake on the counter in front of him.

Ross seemed content to sit there, staring at the cake, so Kelly busied herself making two big mugs of hot chocolate, adding water to the gourmet mix she’d purchased. Then she laced both drinks with some leftover whipped cream. She sprinkled some peppermint mint chips on top, then added a striped candy cane poking through the cream.

Kelly carried her favorite etched mugs to the counter, set one in front of him and one at her own place. She got a plate, a knife, a cake lifter, two forks and a couple of festive napkins. In minutes she had two place settings on each of the quilted placemats she’d made for the holidays. With a flick of a button, the radio began playing soft music that filled the room and helped drain away some of the emptiness she felt inside.

“Aren’t you going to taste it?” she asked when Ross made no effort to pick up his fork.

“Uh-huh.” But he remained transfixed, his eyes riveted on the dark chocolate layers that sat on regal layers of pure white cream.

The sound of her grandfather clock chimed twelve and sent the sound echoing from the living room throughout the house.

“I’m a bit late but I don’t think I ever wished you a happy New Year, Ross,” she murmured, holding up her mug.

His eyes met hers. He reached out, grasped his mug and lifted it, touching the rim against hers.

“Happy New Year, Kelly.”

The phone chose that precise moment to ring. Kelly set down her untouched mug and lifted the receiver.

“You’ve been warned,” a voice cackled. Then the line went dead.




Chapter Three


Her silence wasn’t normal.

Ross glanced up from his drink, took one look at Kelly’s face and lifted away the receiver. He clamped it against his ear, but heard nothing.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” She took the phone from him and hung it up. “They’re gone.” Her hand was shaking. “Before you ask, whoever it was said only one thing. Apparently I’ve been warned.”

Ross hated to see her so disturbed on what should have been a night for celebrating her friends’ marriage. Barricading her inside that closet had been no accident and a threatening phone call proved someone had malicious intent. But he wasn’t going to say it and add to her concerns, not now. He reached over, squeezed her fingers with his.

“I’ll call Zach.”

But Kelly stopped him. “Please, let it alone for now. Telling him in the morning will be soon enough. I don’t want to ruin the entire night for him.”

He didn’t like it but her tone was so beseeching that he finally nodded and let it go. “I guess they wouldn’t be able to set up tracers tonight anyway.” He hit * 69 and listened as a bodiless voice told him the call could not be traced.

“Probably used a cell phone. Or a pay phone.” She pretended lack of concern, though her cheeks were paper white. “Let’s take our food into the den. I’ll light a fire and we can reminisce about happier times.”

Though he followed her out off the kitchen and into the oak paneled den, cake and cup in tow, Ross knew he didn’t have a whole lot of memories he wanted to reminisce on. It was all right for Kelly, she’d had a happy childhood. His, not so much.

“Here we are.” She lit the fire then sank into a big armchair and waved him to a nearby seat. “Now tell me about yourself. You came here from Richmond?”

“Yes.” He knew from experience that not responding only elicited more questions in Chestnut Grove. “Originally from New York,” he muttered. “Brooklyn.”

“Wow! I’ve never lived in such a big city. It must be interesting.” She paused, waited for him to embellish, and when he didn’t she turned her attention to the fire. “Someone told me you used to be a cop. What was that like?”

“Ugly.” Her blink of surprise told him his one word had said too much to stop now. He took a sip of his drink while his brain organized his thoughts. “I was assigned to some pretty nasty areas. Too many drugs, too many weapons, too much poverty.”

“And you burned out?” She nodded, her brown eyes soft with compassion. “I can understand that. Sometimes I feel that way when an adoption doesn’t go through. The adoptive mom loves that child so much but all she can do is watch the child be taken away. It’s heartbreaking for both of them.”

Kelly fell silent, the cup still clasped between her hands though her mind was obviously on just such a case. Ross fidgeted, wished he could think of something to change the subject.

“Was there something specific that made you leave?” she asked several moments later. “I’ve heard that it usually takes a life-altering event for a police officer to move away from that line of work.”

“Private investigation isn’t that far off,” he murmured and sighed at her expectant gaze. “But yes, I did have a reason to get out. I almost killed a kid.”

He waited for the shock and horror those words always induced. Kelly Young displayed none of that. She simply sat in her chair, legs curled under her, watching him as if she knew there was more to the story.

Why was he telling her this when he’d kept it to himself for so long? Ross didn’t know but he blamed it on the fire and the intimacy it brought.

“He was strung out—crack, heroin, I don’t know which. Didn’t really matter. All of fifteen years old and he looked thirty.” He dragged a hand through his hair as his stomach knotted into a hard lump of anger. “He’d robbed a convenience store, assaulted the owner and taken his gun. When I got there the kid was strutting his stuff in the street, waving that gun like it was Excalibur and he was Arthur.”

Ross closed his eyes, relived the moment.

“I tried to talk him down, tried reason, control, everything I could think of. He was too high. A little girl came around the corner. He grabbed her, pointed the gun at her head.” He stared at Kelly, prayed she’d understand. “I had to take my best shot. I couldn’t let another innocent die. I couldn’t stand there and let it happen.”

“Of course you couldn’t. I understand that.” She leaned forward, her hair slanting over her smooth pale cheek as she set her untouched drink on the table. Then she reached out to touch his knee. “You did your job, Ross.”

“Yeah, I did.” He pinched his lips together. Some job. Shooting a fifteen-year-old addict. “It was the third drug call that night, all of them violent. By the time I got back to the station I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. So I handed in my notice, worked my time and left.”

It was a little more complicated than that, but she didn’t need to know.

“And came to Richmond.” A soft sweet smile tilted up her lips. “That was when?”

“Two years ago.”

“And you’ve never gone back?”

“A couple of times.” He did not want to get into this now.

“I suppose you miss your friends from the precinct. Or is it the fast pace of the work?”

“Neither.” He swallowed, sucked in a breath. “I went to see my mother. And my sister, Trista.”

“That’s nice. Your mother must love having you back to spoil.” The look in her eyes told him she’d shared a lot of happy times with her adoptive mother.

“Hardly. I doubt she even knew if I was there. She has Alzheimer’s. Most of the time she doesn’t even know who I am.” Ross couldn’t stop the rush of words. He’d have to get out more often. Maybe that would help him get control of his tongue.

Something, possibly pity, washed over Kelly’s face. He hated seeing it, didn’t want her to offer him that. Ross blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

“When are you going to see Sandra?”

Kelly’s alabaster skin lost some of the faint glow it had begun to regain and stretched a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Soon?”

“I told you, I don’t know when. Too much has happened, I haven’t had a chance to really think about it.” She stared at her hands, fingers threaded together. “I suppose after the holidays.”

“This is after the holidays. Tomorrow?” he persisted, knowing she hated being pressed but he was worried on Sandra’s behalf. She’d waited so long for that special moment when she’d finally meet her long-lost child. Surely Kelly could understand that.

Kelly shook her head. “I can’t tomorrow. I told you, we’re having a church social. We usually spend the afternoon at the ski hill. After that we go to the Morrow mansion. Lindsay Morrow—do you know her?”

“Know of her.” He nodded. “The mayor’s wife.”

“Yes. Around here she’s known for her big society events. Remember the Christmas tree lighting and reception? Well, every year she hosts a second event at her home a few days after the festive season is finished—to celebrate the New Year, she claims. It’s always a big deal, casual, but something we all talk about for weeks to come.”

“Talk about, why?” He couldn’t fathom what that odd little note in her voice alluded to.

“I guess you’d have to know Mrs. Morrow to understand.” Kelly nibbled on her fingernail, her smooth forehead furrowed. “They go to our church sometimes, but…well, she’s not a joiner. She’s more high society than most of us, moves in a different circle.”

“There are circles in little old Chestnut Grove?” he teased, then watched her cheeks flush a warm clear rose.

“Sort of. People like the Morrows belong to the country club set. You know, the wealthy, perfect people. I mean, have you ever looked at Lindsay Morrow? She could have been a model with that rail-thin body of hers. Makes the rest of us envious.”

“Really?” He thought Kelly was far more attractive. Judging by tonight, he’d found her comfortable to be around, friendly, the kind of person you could easily talk to. She was also gorgeous; the whole package was perfect. By contrast, Mrs. Morrow, whenever he’d met her, seemed cold, standoffish. “I guess she looks okay, but—”

“Okay?” Kelly laughed. “Lindsay Morrow is pure glam. The way her glossy black hair swoops across that aristocratic jaw, never a hair out of place. Those deep, dark midnight eyes, the straight confident set of her shoulders—she’s regal. Her clothes only reinforce her image—nothing but designer labels.”

“Huh.” He mulled it over. “Ambitious, powerful, privileged. It’s intimidating. She’s the opposite of Sandra, I guess. I think I’d feel like an overgrown oaf around Mrs. Morrow, but Sandra always makes me feel welcome. She gets this look, kind of a shy smile that makes you glad you came to see her.”

“Really?” The temperature of Kelly’s voice dropped several degrees.

“Really.” Ross frowned. “Why do you hate her?”

“Me? I don’t hate Sandra Lange. Not at all.” Bright red spots of color appeared in her cheeks. To hide it, she fiddled with her mug of hot chocolate, then rose to her feet with some excuse about cookies and rushed out of the room. When Kelly finally came back she carried a dish of gingersnaps and a glass of milk.

She held out the plate.

“These used to be my dad’s favorite,” she murmured, then froze, her eyes flying to his. “My adoptive father,” she corrected. She took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. “I just realized—if you know who my birth mother is, you must know who my biological father is as well?”

He hated lying to her, hated the secretiveness Sandra had insisted upon. But the secret was not his to share.

“You’ll have to ask Sandra,” he murmured. “It’s something she should tell you.”

“Of course.” She stared at the big round cookie, took a bite. After a moment she pointed to the bowl. “Help yourself.”

He moved to take one, then realized that the luscious piece of chocolate cake still sat on the plate on the table in front of him.

“I’d rather eat this,” he told her with a grin. “What’s with that glass of milk?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t feel like hot chocolate tonight. Too much of a good thing at Christmas, I guess. Anyway, Dad always said gingersnaps and milk were made to go together.”

They sat together in front of the fire, he with his chocolate overload, she with her cookies and milk. She had the art of dipping down to a science, holding the cookie in the milk just long enough to saturate it, but not long enough for it to fall apart. Then she’d slip the sopping bit into her mouth. She caught him staring and grinned.

“Help yourself,” she offered. “I can get you a glass of milk if you want.”

“No thanks. The cake was great, more than enough.” Ross leaned back, watched her drink the last of the milk. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin covered with nutcrackers as she stared into the fire. That’s when he knew he had to press the issue, for Sandra’s sake.

“Why not tomorrow, Kelly? Just for a few minutes. Sandra would love to see you.”

“I told you, tomorrow’s busy.”

“The next day then.”

“I have to be at work. It’s a busy time, cleaning up details from the end of the year, some staff on extended holidays. Things like that.”

“So busy you can’t make time for Sandra—a half hour out of your busy schedule to see a woman who’s waited all these years?”

“Waited?” The anger on her face blazed at him, her voice altered, brimmed with outrage. “She gave me away.”

“But—”

Kelly held up a hand. “I’m not saying that was wrong, I don’t know her circumstances. But surely if she’d wanted me—”

He couldn’t let her go on. “Sandra didn’t give you away willingly, Kelly.”

“What?” Her frown was part puzzlement, part fury. “She signed the papers, she had to. It’s the law. Without her consent—”

“Yes, but she was under the effects of anesthetic when she did that. Once she woke up, she’d changed her mind.” He had to keep going, had to make her understand. “She wanted to raise you herself but she was manipulated into giving you up and then you were gone. She’s spent years regretting that she wasn’t stronger, that she didn’t argue to hang on to you. She’s always wondered about you, tried to find out who you were, where you went.”

“Wondered…about me?” The whisper slipped out from her white lips. Her eyes grew huge. “She didn’t even know me. She never looked before, did she?”

“No,” he admitted. “Because she thought it would be selfish to disrupt your new life. But she never forgot her child. And she dearly wanted that child back, in her arms.”

“Wait a minute!” Kelly jerked back. “You said she was manipulated. Are you saying my parents tried to persuade her? Because I will never believe that.”

“No, not your parents. From what I’ve been able to learn, they had no idea of your connection to Sandra, or that your adoptive mother ever wanted to know about you. That was deliberately kept from them.”

“By whom?”

“Barnaby Harcourt, for one.”

She stared at him. “Mine was the first adoption he arranged,” she whispered. “I knew he did some terrible things, changed official records, but—” She shook her head. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. “My parents gave me my birth records years ago. They said my parents were deceased. He must have altered them, just like all the rest. That’s why there were two sets.”

“I’m sorry, Kelly.”

“I thought I was Kelly Young. That was my history,” she whispered, staring at him. “I liked my life, loved my parents, found a job in the town where I grew up. Taking on the directorship of Tiny Blessings, that was my way of giving back to the community where I belonged. And now you’re telling me that everything I ever believed was a lie.”

She wasn’t talking to him. Ross understood enough about Kelly Young to realize that her questions were directed toward heaven and the God she trusted. He’d seen this in others in Chestnut Grove.

“It isn’t all a lie. Your parents loved you, cared for you. That won’t ever change. You have that to hang on to forever.” She seemed frozen so Ross tried again, choosing a different tack this time. “Knowing about Sandra, that could be for the good. You could find out your real history.” That sounded lame. “Just see her—it only has to be a few moments. Talk to her. Maybe you’ll find the answers you need. Please?”

He’d tried everything short of begging, but Ross was even willing to go that far if it would get Sandra the meeting she craved. She’d been like an expectant child when he’d left her, hardly able to control her excitement as she planned and dreamed of that special moment in time when she’d finally get to meet her child as a mother.

What if it never happened?

A change seemed to come over Kelly. She drew herself erect, blinked away her tears.

“I suppose I can’t put it off forever.” Her dark gaze narrowed, fixed on him intently. “I’ll go on one condition.”

Uh-oh.

“What condition?”

“I’ll go see Sandra if you’ll come to the church social tomorrow.” She met his gaze, her own implacable. “Well? You’re so big on me experiencing new things, how about walking your talk? Is it a deal?”

Kelly looked like she expected him to refuse and normally he would have. Ross had steered clear of the church for years. There was enough guilt in the world, he didn’t need someone else telling him he was a mess. But in that moment he made a split-second decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

He’d go to that church social for Sandra, because her faith was different than any he’d ever seen. She didn’t rail at God, or spend days and hours weeping for what she’d lost, as his own mother had. Sandra took what she was dealt and pressed on, made what she had into something better. She needed to meet her daughter, needed the closure it would bring to her aching heart.

“Fine.” He lifted his head, glared at her. “It’s a deal.”

“You’ll come?” Kelly’s surprised look was laughable.

“That’s what I just said.” He gulped down the trepidation that filled him, pretended it wouldn’t bother him in the least to be around a bunch of goody-two-shoes. “What time should I pick you up?”

Her eyes turned bittersweet, secrets fluttering through them.

“We usually go skiing after church. By any chance would you consider coming to the morning service—”

“Don’t push it, Kelly.” Next she’d be trying to suck him into thinking God cared whether Ross Van Zandt had paid for his sins.

“Okay, I won’t push it.” She shrugged. “But you don’t have to pick me up. I can catch a ride with someone and meet you there.”

Leaving him to walk into the hornet’s nest of church people alone? No way.

“I’ll be here,” he reiterated. “What time?”

They’d just decided on a time when the front doorbell rang.

“Pretty late for callers,” he muttered, more to himself than her. He had a sudden replay of her hunched in that closet and made sure he was two steps behind when Kelly opened the door.

A uniformed officer stood on the step, face peeking out from beneath her cap. “Glynis Barnes. Zach sent me over to stay with you tonight.”

“Oh. How thoughtful of him,” Kelly murmured. “Please, come in.”

“Wait a minute.” Ross stepped forward, blocking her path. “Do you have identification?”

Officer Barnes nodded, pulled out her badge and waited until he’d studied it. Satisfied, Ross handed it back, caught a bit of movement from the corner of his eye and turned. Kelly’s eyes grew huge, then she seemed to waver. He grasped her arms, held her upright.

“Hey! What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. All of a sudden I don’t feel very well.”

“I’m the one who should be woozy after all that chocolate. You didn’t even have any.”

“Yes.” But she barely smiled at his joke, her face blanching as her fingers clutched his arm. “Oh, my.”

“You need to sit down.” He guided her back into the den, helped her into a chair. “Better?”

She shook her head “yes” once, but that changed to a violent “no” as she lurched to her feet and headed out of the room as if on fire.

“She’s sick. I’ll look after her,” the cop told him calmly, then followed Kelly.

Left on his own, Ross paced the den for several minutes, wondering why she’d suddenly become so sick. Probably the gingersnaps, he decided with a grimace. That particular cookie had never been one of his favorites, though in his childhood years he’d never had a choice between the kinds of cookies he’d enjoyed. He’d considered it a good day if there was bread in the house. Treats of any kind were a luxury.

He wasn’t sure how long he waited until Kelly returned. She was whiter than cotton wool and her eyes were glossy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t feel very well. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Probably the best thing,” he agreed. “Now that you’ve got—” he glanced at the cop standing nearby, raised one eyebrow, her name forgotten in the excitement.

“Glynis,” she supplied.

“Now that you’ve got Glynis here, I guess I’d better go, too. Take it easy, okay? If you don’t feel better tomorrow, we can cancel.”

“You wish!” A bit of her fighting spirit had returned to those expressive eyes and Ross was glad to see it.

“No, I don’t wish. I think I might even be looking forward to it.” Which was more truth than she needed to hear. But the simple fact was, something about Kelly Young made him want to stick around.

She nodded, but her skin was turning that sickly shade of green again and Ross figured this was a great time to get out. He headed for the door, grabbed his coat, slid on his shoes and waved a hand.

“Take care.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything.”

A moment later Glynis closed the door behind him. He walked into the chilly night air, climbed into his car and revved the engine, hoping it would warm soon and send out some heat. He decided to visit Sandra. She’d want to know what happened and he needed to see her, to let her know he’d told Kelly the truth.

He wouldn’t explain that Kelly had been less than ecstatic about meeting her birth mother. Later, of course. But not now, not tonight. Tonight he just wanted Sandra to know that her daughter, Kelly, knew she had a mother nearby.

The streets were deserted and Ross made good time. He’d phoned Sandra on his cell to make sure she was up to receiving guests and learned she’d been sitting by the phone, waiting and wondering. Several minutes later he pulled up in front of her pretty little house and walked up to the door. She opened it before he could knock, her face brimming with questions.

“How did it go?” Sandra asked after she’d hugged him. He’d begun to enjoy those bursts of affection she showered on him.

“Kelly was surprised but I think she took it okay.” He’d already decided not to tell Sandra about the rest of the events that night. She would only worry. “She’s going to need a bit of time to absorb it all.”

“Of course.” Sandra perched on the edge of the piano bench and knotted her fingers together. “Did she seem upset?”

Ross chose his words carefully.

“Not upset. But it’s hard for her to understand. I think she’s fighting her feelings, as if getting to know her birth mother means somehow betraying her adoptive mother. When I told her you’d been pressured to give her away, she was pretty amazed.”

“Shocked, you mean. I don’t blame her. I’ve wondered for years how I could have let him talk me into it.” Sandra jumped to her feet. “I think I’ll make some tea. And I’ve got a piece of pie for you. I brought it back from the diner.”

“No, thanks, Sandra. Nothing for me. Please.” He rose and grasped her hands when they would have reached to fill the kettle. “You need to rest. Come and sit down,” he cajoled. “Stop fussing over me and take some time to let things sink in.”

Sandra had pushed her way through the cancer treatments with a will and determination Ross admired. She’d come through like a trooper, was on the mend now. But he’d glimpsed those times when she sagged from her battle against the deadly disease. He’d seen firsthand how her need to seem all right in front of her staff and customers at the diner had left her sapped of energy when she came home where no one could see. He was prepared to argue with her now if it would make her conserve whatever strength she could muster for what might lay ahead. Emotionally she was needy. What happened with Kelly could drain her and make her physical recovery more difficult.

Ross led her to the nearest easy chair, waited until she was seated, then pulled up a footstool and sat down in front of her. He took her hands in his.

“You had a baby girl, a daughter,” he murmured, knowing she hadn’t yet begun to absorb that detail, though he’d told her about the DNA results hours ago.

“I know. A girl named Kelly.” Tears rushed to her eyes and she dashed them away. “And such a pretty girl. Did you notice her hair? Those streaks—gold and silver and bronze, all mixed up together. I used to try so hard to get my hair those exact shades when I was her age. Of course hairdressers didn’t do highlights nearly as well back then and my parents condemned me for coloring my hair, but still…” She stretched a hand to the area just above her ear, rubbed her fingers against the downy tendrils that had begun re-growing after her chemo treatments.

“Kelly is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured, his heart pinching at the soft sheen of love that radiated from Sandra’s pretty face. “She has to love you, Sandra. She won’t be able to help it. Just give her time.”

“You’re so sweet to me, Ross.” She enveloped him in another tight hug, then leaned back and pinched his cheek. “Why hasn’t some smart woman snapped you up?”

He didn’t want to hurt her, so he laughed, drew away. “Because I’m smarter and besides, I don’t want to be snapped.”

“Don’t you believe in marriage, Ross?”

“Not the ones I’ve seen,” he muttered, keeping his face averted as he thought of his alcoholic parents and their notorious brawls.

“Then you haven’t seen the right ones. Marriage can and should be a true meeting of two minds, not to force one to be like the other, but to complement each other. The wife a blessing to her husband and vice versa.”

He grinned. “How’d you become such an expert?”

“Watching my own parents.” Sandra smiled at the memory. “They had this bond that made them complete. I always wanted what they had. Sometimes I felt a little bit left out because their world seemed complete when they had each other. Maybe that’s why I tried so hard to find love, maybe that’s what scared away—” She stopped, peered up at him. “Never mind.”

“You were going to say that’s what drove him away, weren’t you?” He shook his head. “It isn’t. He was a cheater before you met him, Sandra. Men like that feed on women who trust them. He was a creep. The fact that he made you believe you had to give away your baby only proves it.”

“He told me she was with a family in California.” She struggled to keep her voice even. “He claimed she had everything a child could need.”

“Well, we know the Youngs did live in California for a while. You couldn’t have known they’d move back here when she was just a few years old.” He chewed his bottom lip. “For the rest of it—I think Kelly did have everything she needed. She speaks of the Youngs with great love. You must have known them so you’d know how they were with her.”

“They loved her the way a precious child should be loved.” Sandra sighed. “I couldn’t have chosen anyone better myself.”

He remained silent a moment, thinking. But he had to prepare her. “That love they showered on her might be what will make it hard for Kelly to accept you as her mother, Sandra.”

“What do you mean?” Her green eyes grew wide. “How can having loving parents make her hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you. But she won’t want to betray them, either. The Youngs are the only family she’s ever known. She was told her birth parents were dead. Loving you, calling you Mom—that might seem like betrayal toward the woman she’s looked up to for so many years.”

“I don’t want to take away anything Marcus or Carol were to that child! I thank God every day that they were there when I couldn’t be, that they loved her, raised her to trust God. It’s because of them that Kelly is who she is today—a beautiful, strong, caring woman who loves God and gives back to the community.” Sandra gulped. “Of course I wish it could have been me, but God directed otherwise.”

God again. He bit his lip to stop the question—why hadn’t God straightened out this mess thirty-odd years ago and saved her the heartache?

“I know you don’t understand my beliefs, Ross. You’re angry on my behalf, and that’s sweet. But I’ve been without my child for many years and I’ve had to learn understanding. God knows what He’s doing. He has a plan that is far bigger than what I see. Maybe I’ll live long enough to find out what it is, but even if I don’t, I still trust Him. He knows the plans He has for me, plans to prosper and not to harm.”

Another of her Biblical quotes. How did you argue against faith like that? Ross studied the serenity filling her face and wished he could figure out her attitude. Sandra was the loser in this. She’d missed the special times he was pretty sure most mothers treasured in their secret hearts—first steps, first words, first day at school, first boyfriend, first kiss. All the things his own mother had never given a hoot about.

Like snowflakes dropping from the sky, the questions filled him. Why hadn’t he been born to Sandra? Why hadn’t her God looked after him, given him a loving home?

He knew why.

Because of Trista. His little sister would never have made it if he hadn’t been there to protect her. For her sake he was glad he had been. But that didn’t make the living hell of his past any less brutal. His father was dead, his mother seldom recognized him, let alone cared about him. The only one he had left was Trista.

“When is Kelly coming to see me?” Sandra’s quiet voice brimmed with barely suppressed delight. “When can we talk?”

“Kelly promised that if I went to this church social she’ll be attending tomorrow, she’d come to see you after that. I don’t have a specific time yet, but I’ll get one.” He grinned, waggled a finger at her. “A skiing day! The things I do for you, Sandra Lange.”

“Like dating Kelly is a hardship.” She chuckled. “Puh-leeze.”

“It’s not a date, it’s…reciprocity.” His face felt hotter than the fire at Kelly’s. “I go with her, she comes here. That’s the deal.”

“Martyrdom, here comes Ross Van Zandt.” Sandra giggled, then quickly sobered. “I’m not so sure it’s a good thing if you had to bribe her to see me.”

“It wasn’t a bribe.” He huffed out a sigh. “Will you give it up, Sandra? She’s coming to see you, that’s what you wanted. Isn’t that enough?”

“Shame on me.” She reached up, touched his cheek with her fingertips in a gentle caress he would never tire of. “Yes, my dear man, it is more than enough. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” he mumbled, embarrassed by the soft glow of love in her eyes. How could she love him? She didn’t even know him, wouldn’t want to if she did.

“It’s been a long day. You’re tired and with all you’ve done, who could blame you.” She brushed her palm across his hair, pushed back a lock of hair and patted his cheek. “Go home and get some rest, Ross. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“Yeah, skiing.” He made a face. “I’ll probably end up in the hospital with two broken legs and a concussion. People like me don’t do skiing.”

“People like you? It’s not the technique, it’s the attitude,” she told him. “Stop expecting the worst. Besides, after that everyone goes to the Morrow mansion.”

“Oh, goody,” he mocked her. “The Ice Queen in her palace.”

Sandra stared him down until he wished he hadn’t made the comment.

“I’m old enough to be your mother, Ross, so let me give you some motherly advice. If you look hard enough, you’ll always find something bad about people. But if you look hard enough, you’ll always find something good, too.”

“Okay, Mother. I’ll try to see something good in her.”

She rose, grasped his hand and tugged. Ross stood, would have pulled away, but her hands refused to let go.

“You’ve done so much for me and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you. Finding Kelly—it’s like a dream come true. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful daughter. You gave her to me. You are a man to be proud of, Ross.”

“Good night, Sandra.” He bent, kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, then let himself out.

Immediately, the warmth Sandra always shed was overpowered by the frosty winter night. He shivered, climbed into his car and without warming the engine, headed for home. Home—that was a joke.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside the miserable apartment. A fax machine, his surveillance equipment—hardly the comforts he’d found in Kelly’s beautiful house. No silky drapes, plush sofas or comfy cushions here. Certainly nothing that would hint at time and attention spent on decorating the space. This was a strictly utilitarian area meant to remind him every time he stepped in it that he was here for one reason only—to reunite Sandra with her long-lost child.





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