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When We Found Home
Susan Mallery
‘Susan Mallery never disappoints.’ Debbie MacomberBecoming a family will take patience, humour, a little bit ofwine and a whole lot of love…Life is meant to be savoured, but that’s not easy withno family, limited prospects and a past you’d rather not talk about. Still, Callie Smith doesn’t know how to feel when she discovers she has a brother and a sister—Malcolm, who grew up with affection, wealth and privilege, and Keira, a streetwise twelve-year-old.Callie doesn’t love being alone, but at least it’s safe. Despite her trepidation, she moves into the grand family home with her siblings and grandfather on the shores of Lake Washington, hoping just maybethis will be the start of a whole new life.But starting over can be messy. Callie and Keira fit in with each other, but not with their posh new lifestyle, leaving Malcolm feeling like the odd man out in his own home. He was clever enough to turn a sleepy Seattle mail-order food catalog into an online gourmet powerhouse, yet he can’t figure out how to help his new sisters feel secure. But affection isn’tMalcolm’s strong suit…until a beautiful barista teaches him that an open heart, like the family table, can always make room for more.


Life is meant to be savored, but that’s not easy with no family, limited prospects and a past you’d rather not talk about.
Still, Callie Smith doesn’t know how to feel when she discovers she has a brother and a sister—Malcolm, who grew up with affection, wealth and privilege, and Keira, a streetwise twelve-year-old. Callie doesn’t love being alone, but at least it’s safe. Despite her trepidation, she moves into the grand family home with her siblings and grandfather on the shores of Lake Washington, hoping just maybe this will be the start of a whole new life.
But starting over can be messy. Callie and Keira fit in with each other, but not with their posh new lifestyle, leaving Malcolm feeling like the odd man out in his own home. He was clever enough to turn a sleepy Seattle mail-order food catalog into an online gourmet powerhouse, yet he can’t figure out how to help his new sisters feel secure. Becoming a family will take patience, humor, a little bit of wine and a whole lot of love. But love isn’t Malcolm’s strong suit…until a beautiful barista teaches him that an open heart, like the family table, can always make room for more.
In this emotional, funny and heartfelt story, Susan Mallery masterfully explores the definition of a modern family—blended by surprise, not by choice—and how those complicated relationships can add unexpected richness to life.
#1 New York Times bestselling author SUSAN MALLERY writes heartwarming and humorous novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship and romance. She’s best known for putting nuanced characters into emotionally complex, real-life situations with twists that surprise and delight readers. Because Susan is passionate about animal welfare, pets play a big role in her books. Beloved by millions of readers worldwide, her books have been translated into twenty-eight languages.
Susan lives in Washington State with her husband, two cats and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur.
www.SusanMallery.com (http://www.SusanMallery.com)
Also By Susan Mallery (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Secrets of the Tulip Sisters
Daughters of the Bride
Happily Inc
Not Quite Over You
Why Not Tonight
Second Chance Girl
You Say It First
Mischief Bay
Sisters Like Us
A Million Little Things
The Friends We Keep
The Girls of Mischief Bay
Fool’s Gold
Best of My Love
Marry Me at Christmas
Thrill Me
Kiss Me
Hold Me
Until We Touch
Before We Kiss
When We Met
Christmas on 4th Street
Three Little Words
Two of a Kind
Just One Kiss
A Fool’s Gold Christmas
All Summer Long
Summer Nights
Summer Days
Only His
Only Yours
Only Mine
Finding Perfect
Almost Perfect
Chasing Perfect
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
When We Found Home
Susan Mallery


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08350-8
WHEN WE FOUND HOME
© 2018 Susan Mallery, Inc.
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Critics’ Praise for Susan Mallery
“Susan Mallery never disappoints and with Daughters of the Bride she is at her storytelling best.”
—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!”
—Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times bestselling author, on Daughters of the Bride
“Mallery blends the friend-and-family relationships common to women’s fiction with the love scenes and happy ending of a contemporary romance, making this an excellent summer read for fans of both genres.”
—Booklist on Secrets of the Tulip Sisters
“An emotional and humorous look at the bonds between the women in an endearingly flawed family.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Sisters Like Us
“Mallery is the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations. Her engaging and comically touching Mischief Bay series continues to satisfy lovers of women’s fiction.”
—Library Journal on A Million Little Things
“Gabby, Haley, and Nicole are down-to-earth real women with whom readers will be able to identify.... The women’s stories and the depth of support they provide one another make this an engaging read to be savored all the way through.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Friends We Keep
“The characters will have you crying, laughing, and falling in love.... Another brilliantly well-written story.”
—San Francisco Book Review on The Friends We Keep, 5 Stars
“It’s not just a tale of how true friendship can lift you up, but also how change is an integral part of life.... Fans of Jodi Picoult, Debbie Macomber, and Elin Hilderbrand will assuredly fall for The Girls of Mischief Bay.”
—Bookreporter
I’ve always been a big believer that while we can’t control the family we are born into, we can certainly create the family of our heart. It’s something I’ve done all my life: finding amazing mentors, loving friends and advocates who wouldn’t give up on me, even when I wanted to give up on myself. There’s an old saying about blooming where you are planted. I would say, first find a garden that makes you really happy and then go ahead and bloom there.
This book is for those of you who have chosen your family—heart by loving heart. May you always be loved and treasuredfor the beautiful bloom that you are.
Contents
Cover (#u5d63bf0b-223e-5150-ae78-d42dc4e6c143)
Back Cover Text (#u45eeeb35-6300-5ddc-9623-6e87b42b1ee0)
About the Author (#ua91014ea-c362-5b82-bbab-6da2f23e7a5b)
Booklist (#u5149ed36-826a-570a-87dd-47d1f90eefae)
Title Page (#u393560ef-4872-58c4-ab63-33173379fcc9)
Copyright (#u5c6505b6-3bd2-5cd6-8fcd-1430fa6383ac)
Praise (#u6dc8d11d-aa26-52d4-9aa2-3df303e03983)
Dedication (#u1682ec09-7c8f-516e-bc10-252673d38f02)
chapter one (#u8e9a7699-4aff-5a19-93ff-be672d8f914a)
chapter two (#u6add427b-27aa-5508-adaa-1583b2b10204)
chapter three (#u528dcbfc-6371-5d1f-aa14-ecd2349eee15)
chapter four (#u7ae74fa6-424f-501e-b373-fe7746b591db)
chapter five (#uac3763b0-8f44-5190-b893-bf0ce6c59514)
chapter six (#u2a0a2fb8-0ef4-573f-bcff-548cdfa9e977)
chapter seven (#u5d254fa3-ad9c-5b70-b42b-efeba6f7e5cf)
chapter eight (#u2ce7ed21-7727-5128-a283-09e05830e424)
chapter nine (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter ten (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-six (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-seven (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-eight (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter twenty-nine (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter thirty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter thirty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Reader Guide (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Recipes (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
chapter one (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
As Delaney Holbrook watched the man in the suit approach, she did her best to remind herself she’d given up on men in suits—in fact all men and most suits, when it came to that. She was a different person, with new and improved goals, although she could still admire excellent tailoring. And nice blue eyes. And a firm jaw. And his walk. He had a very purposeful walk that was incredibly appealing. She sighed. So much for giving up on men in suits.
She waited until he was directly in front of her before giving in to temptation and saying, “It’s been six weeks and this is getting pretty serious. Don’t you think I should know your name?”
She had no idea how he was going to respond. She half expected him to give her an icy stare and turn away, because this particular man in a suit had an impressive icy stare. She’d seen it more than once, albeit directed at others. But he didn’t glare. Instead he smiled. No, that was wrong. He didn’t just smile, he gave her a slow, sexy grin that kicked her in the gut and left her feeling all fluttery and stupid and just a little hopeful.
Talk about opening Pandora’s box.
“I’m Malcolm.”
His voice was low and masculine, with just enough gravel to give her a happy shiver along her spine.
“Good morning, Malcolm.” She pointed at her name tag. “Delaney, although you already knew that.”
“I did.”
“Your usual?”
Malcolm was a double shot, extra hot, large latte. Although he arrived every morning at exactly seven forty, he bypassed the busy coffee stand in the middle of the building’s lobby, instead making his way to the special bank of elevators that required a cardkey or a security escort to reach their lofty levels. But sometime midmorning, he would wander down for a morning latte.
Her shift ended at ten and more than once she’d found herself lingering, oh so foolishly, so she could take his order. A ridiculous truth that should have embarrassed her, but didn’t. Instead of telling herself that at twenty-nine she was too old to be crushing on a handsome stranger, she went with a kinder, gentler message. Time did heal and as she’d suspected, she was more than ready to return to normal life...whatever that turned out to be.
“My usual,” he confirmed as he handed over a reloadable gift card to pay for his coffee, along with a tall white mug. She ran the card through the cash register, then walked over to start his drink.
Luzia, her teammate, untied her apron. “I’m going to go to the storeroom for more supplies,” she said. “You going to be okay by yourself?”
“I will.”
Luzia smiled politely at Malcolm before stepping out from behind the counter and walking across the lobby.
Alone at last, Delaney thought, careful not to laugh. No way she wanted to explain what was so funny.
Malcolm slid the coffee card back into his wallet, then returned his attention to her. “You’re new.”
“Relatively. I’ve been here nearly two months.” She tipped the small metal pitcher of milk so she could insert the steamer. The familiar hissing, gurgling sound began. She poured four shots of espresso into the mug he’d brought.
“You’re with Alberto’s Alfresco.” She nodded at the logo on his mug. “Your company owns the building and our little coffee stand is a renter. Hmm, does that make you my boss?”
He grinned. “Don’t go there.”
“Why not? I suspect you like being a boss.”
“Not all the time.”
“Most of the time,” she teased. “Your suit is too nice for that not to be true.”
“What is your experience with people in suits?”
“I used to be one.”
“Unexpected.” One eyebrow rose. “Not anymore?”
“No. I’ve decided to go in a different direction.” She poured the steamed milk into his mug. “I know what you’re wondering, so to answer the question, it was my choice.”
In a manner of speaking, she thought. The decision to change careers had been hers—the circumstances leading to that decision had not.
“What direction is that?” he asked.
“I’m going to be a naturopath.” She waited for the look of confusion before adding, “It’s a—”
“I know what naturopathic medicine is. It emphasizes using the body’s own systems for healing through a combination of Western medicine and natural cures.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “My grandfather’s housekeeper has a niece who graduated from Bastyr University with a degree in acupuncture or something like that. Are you a student there?”
She ignored the bit about his grandfather having a housekeeper—the suit already implied money, so she shouldn’t be surprised. “That’s my plan. I have to meet certain prerequisites in science and math but my business degree didn’t require them so I’m going back to college to make them up.” She shook her head. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to go to class and study. My brain is still unamused and crabby about the whole thing.”
He sipped his coffee. “What classes did you start with?”
“Biology and algebra.”
He winced. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks. At first I had to read every chapter three or four times to remember anything. Now I’m down to only having to read it twice. The lab work has been interesting, though. In three weeks, we have to dissect things. I’m dreading that.”
“There shouldn’t be blood. Whatever it is has been dead awhile.”
“Still. Knives, cutting, organs.” She shuddered.
His blue eyes brightened with amusement. “Is this where I remind you that you’re basically studying to be a doctor?”
“Yeah, I get the irony. I try not to think about it, but I get it.”
They looked at each other. She felt...something. Tension maybe, or awareness. Whatever it was, she appreciated the confirmation that she was alive, relatively healthy and moving on with her life. The world kept turning and dragging her along with it.
“I need to get back to work,” Malcolm told her.
She wanted to believe there was a hint of reluctance in his voice, but she couldn’t be sure. Still, it was nice to think about.
“Me, too.” She glanced at her watch. “Or rather, head home and study for a few hours before class. Enjoy the rest of your day, Malcolm.”
“You, too, Delaney.”
He hesitated a second before turning toward the elevators. She watched him walk away and let herself imagine that he would spin back and ask her to lunch. Or dinner. Yes, dinner on his yacht. Or maybe they could helicopter to somewhere nice, although she wasn’t sure where a helicopter ride from Seattle would get them. Portland? Vancouver. Oooh, an international destination!
Regardless, he would ask her to dinner and they would...
She laughed as she rinsed out the milk pitcher and made sure everything was in order for Luzia and the next shift. She and Malcolm would what? Go to dinner? Kiss? Fall in love?
Hardly. They had nothing in common. Years ago, maybe, when she’d been on the fast track in finance. Only then she’d been engaged to Tim. She wouldn’t have noticed Malcolm at all.
“It doesn’t matter,” she told herself as she slipped off her apron. She had plans and dreams and hopes for the future. Not anything she would have imagined, but now, after everything she’d been through, they felt right. She would learn to heal others and if she got through that, she might have the chance to heal herself, as well.
* * *
Alberto’s Alfresco corporate offices occupied the top three stories of the twenty-story building. The company leased out the rest to tenants that ranged from a dentist, three law firms and Amazon. The latter had six floors where people came and went at all hours of the night and didn’t talk to anyone who didn’t work for their company. Malcolm Carlesso hoped they were building drones with artificial intelligence. He enjoyed sci-fi movies. Seeing one lived out in real time would be fun. Or not, he thought as he headed up to the top floor of the building. He didn’t want to go out in a hail of angry drone gunfire.
Malcolm stepped out of the elevator. It was the middle of the workday and people were everywhere—walking in the halls, having meetings, taking calls in their offices. Alberto’s Alfresco was a vibrant, multinational, multibillion-dollar enterprise.
While the company had always been successful, until a few years ago, it had been much smaller. Malcolm had come on board right after he’d graduated from college. He’d been determined to grow the firm and make his grandfather—the Alberto in Alberto’s Alfresco—proud. Two years ago, Malcolm’s mission had taken on an urgency he couldn’t seem to shake.
He passed his own office and went into that of the chief financial officer. Santiago Trejo had joined Alberto’s Alfresco eighteen months ago when Malcolm had stolen him from a successful hedge fund. Together they made a formidable team.
Malcolm nodded a greeting at Santiago’s assistant, sitting guard outside the open door, then entered the large corner office and took a seat. Santiago was on the phone. He smiled when he saw Malcolm and quickly wrapped up his call.
“Quarterly numbers from the East Coast are messed up,” Santiago said cheerfully. “Our friends down in accounting are scrambling. I had to explain our ‘fool me once’ philosophy here at the company. It won’t happen again.” He paused. “What?”
Malcolm pulled his gaze from the view of the vast Seattle skyline and Puget Sound and looked at his friend.
“What do you mean what?”
“There’s something. What happened? You look...” Santiago frowned, as if trying to figure something out. “Different. What’s happened? Did you discover some new truffle oil vendor?”
“Nothing happened,” Malcolm told him, then held out his mug. “I just went for coffee.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
He’d talked to an attractive woman about something other than business. While unusual for him these days, it was hardly noteworthy.
Okay, maybe it was a little noteworthy, but not anything he was going to discuss with Santiago.
His friend was a “get back on the horse” kind of guy. Should a woman ever break Santiago’s heart, a very unlikely event considering how many women came and went in his life, he would simply find one who was smarter, prettier or both, and make them both very happy. Malcolm had chosen another way to deal with his ex-fiancée’s betrayal, and that had been to withdraw into work.
Still, he’d enjoyed talking with Delaney. And looking at her. He’d never had a type before, but as of today, he was definitely into redheads. Maybe he should—
Santiago’s phone buzzed, then his assistant’s voice came over the speaker. “Alberto is in the building. Repeat, Alberto is in the building.”
Santiago looked at Malcolm. “Did you know he was coming? Do we have a meeting? It’s not on my calendar.”
“No meeting.” Malcolm tried to figure out why his grandfather would show up with no warning, then reminded himself the exercise was futile. He would never guess. Alberto didn’t like talking on the phone—if he felt he had something important to discuss during the workday, he would simply drive himself to the office and find the person he wanted to talk to.
The fact that he was here and not at their warehouse in the SoDo—south of downtown—district meant it wasn’t about packaging or food, and wasn’t that lucky. Malcolm still remembered the rotini-fusilli incident from three years ago when Alberto had discovered packaging that had used the two pasta names interchangeably, which might be fine for some but not for a company that prided itself on selling authentic Italian food.
The entire marketing department had been forced to listen to a twenty-minute lecture on the importance of knowing the different types of pasta as they prepared their campaigns. Information they needed to have, but perhaps not delivered by a man in his eighties who still occasionally broke into passionate Italian.
Malcolm set down his mug, then made his way to the elevator bank to wait for his grandfather. Alberto Carlesso had been born in Italy and brought to America when his parents immigrated in the 1930s. During the Second World War the then teenager had put his cooking skills and family recipes to good use in their Seattle neighborhood. Food was scarce and Alberto’s ability to create delicious meals out of whatever was on hand had made him popular. Every summer, he’d made his own marinara sauce with the fresh ingredients grown on neighboring farms. Some of the bottles had made their way to New York where a few Italian grocery store owners had sold them at a tidy profit.
The elevator doors opened. Malcolm smiled at the slightly bent, white-haired man in a suit and tie who walked toward him.
“Hello, Grandfather.”
“Malcolm, they still warn you when I’m coming, eh? What is everyone so afraid of? I’m an old man who no longer runs the company. I’m a pussycat without claws.”
“I think you’re more bobcat than house cat.”
His grandfather grinned. “A bobcat? I like that.”
Even though they’d seen each other at breakfast that morning, they hugged. Alberto was a toucher. Thank goodness he’d retired before the new standards for sexual harassment had come into law, Malcolm thought. Not that his straight-as-an-arrow grandfather would ever make a pass at anyone, but he would hug and occasionally clasp hands with whomever he was talking to—regardless of gender. While most of the employees understood that was just his way, a few were less accommodating.
“I saw the new catalog,” Alberto said as they walked toward Malcolm’s office.
Malcolm held in a groan. Catalog releases were always stressful. Would the customers respond favorably? Would the new products be successful? Would his grandfather want to know why they were offering a line of gluten-free pasta?
“Very nice,” his grandfather continued. “I don’t agree with the macarons but I understand they’re very popular and have an excellent profit margin. You have to keep up with the times.”
“We do.”
They walked into Malcolm’s office. The huge space had been Alberto’s, before the old man had retired. Malcolm had replaced the old-fashioned wood paneling and the carpeting but otherwise had kept the room much the same. The desk and credenza, monstrosities from the 1970s, were a reminder of the heritage inherent in the company and Malcolm liked that.
They passed by the desk and made their way to the seating area at the far end of his office. Malcolm preferred to use a conference room when he had a meeting, but he kept the sofas for the same reason he kept the desk—because they belonged.
Malcolm’s assistant walked in with a tray. She smiled at them both, set the tray on the coffee table and left. His grandfather picked up one of the two mugs of steaming black coffee, along with a piece of biscotti. After dipping the latter in his mug, he said, “I found her.”
Resignation, irritation and inevitability battled for dominance. Malcolm realized it didn’t much matter which won—it wasn’t as if he was going to change his grandfather’s mind about any of it. To Alberto, family was everything. A trait to be admired, even if it occasionally made everyone’s life more complicated.
About the time Alberto had decided to cut out the middleman and sell his food directly to the public, through a mail-order catalog, he’d met, fallen in love with and married the pretty Irish girl who lived next door and they’d had one son—Jerry.
Alberto’s Alfresco had been successful, with steady but modest growth. Jerry had little interest in managing the company, a disappointment to both his parents. Instead he’d taken over corporate sales, traveling all over the country. He’d never married, but he had managed to father a few children. Three, to be precise, all by different mothers.
When Malcolm had been twelve, his mother had brought him from Portland, Oregon, to Seattle and had demanded to speak with Alberto. She’d presented Malcolm as Jerry’s son. Alberto had taken one look at Malcolm and had smiled, even as tears had filled his eyes. Malcolm was, he declared, the exact image of his late wife.
Jerry had been more reticent, insisting on a DNA test, which had proved positive. Within the week, both Malcolm and his mother were living in Alberto’s huge house.
Malcolm remembered how confused he’d been at the time. He’d been ripped from the only home he’d ever known and moved to Seattle. His grandfather had been adoring, his father indifferent, and Malcolm had taken a long time to accept that the large house by the lake was his home. Back then he’d been unable to figure out why his mother had suddenly decided to change everything and for the longest time she wouldn’t say. When she finally confessed she was sick and dying, he’d been forced to accept there was no going back. It would never be just him and his mom ever again.
When she’d died, Alberto had stepped in to take care of him. Jerry had remained indifferent—something Malcolm had come to terms with eventually.
Then two years ago, Jerry had died leaving—everyone had presumed—only one child. A few months ago, Alberto had finally brought himself to go through his son’s belongings. There he’d found proof of two additional children—daughters. Keira, a twelve-year-old living in foster care in Los Angeles, had been easily located and moved into the house six weeks before, but an older daughter, Callie, had been more difficult to find. Until now, apparently.
Malcolm gave in to the inevitable and asked, “Where is she?”
“Texas. Houston. She’s twenty-six.”
Eight years younger than him and fourteen years older than Keira.
“She’s living off the grid, as you young people like to say,” Alberto told him. “That’s why it took so long. The private detective had to trace her from Oklahoma. The lawyer will speak to her and confirm everything using DNA.”
“Do you want me to go meet her and bring her home?”
Because like Keira, Callie would be invited to come live with her paternal grandfather. While the twelve-year-old hadn’t had much choice—Alberto and Malcolm were her only living family—Callie was an adult. She could tell her grandfather to go pound sand. Malcolm honestly had no idea what she would do. But the promise of inheriting a piece of Alberto’s Alfresco would be difficult to resist.
“I’m sending a lawyer,” Alberto said. “That makes it more official.”
Malcolm wondered if that was the only reason.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about the sudden influx of siblings. Keira confused him—he knew nothing about twelve-year-old girls. After enrolling her in a quality private school that was conveniently across the street from the office building, he’d asked Carmen, their housekeeper, to keep tabs on her. Every now and then he suffered guilt, wondering if he should be more involved in her life, but how? Take her shopping and listen to teen music? He held in a shudder.
“I’m hoping she’ll move here,” Alberto told him. “We’ll be a family.”
Before Malcolm could respond, his grandfather shifted in his seat. The late morning light caught the side of his face, illuminating the deep wrinkles. Alberto wasn’t a young man. Yes, he was in good health, but at his age, anything could happen. Malcolm didn’t want to think about what it would mean to lose him and he sure didn’t want his last years to be unhappy.
“I hope she does, too,” he said, wondering if he was lying, then telling himself it didn’t much matter. When it came to his grandfather, he would do what Alberto wanted. He owed him that for everything that had happened...and everything he’d done.
chapter two (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
At six thirty on an unexpectedly sunny Saturday morning, the condo building’s impressive gym was practically a ghost town. Santiago Trejo split his attention between the display on his treadmill and the small, built-in TV screen tuned to ESPN and a list of games scheduled for the first Saturday of the year’s baseball season.
Santiago enjoyed sports as much as the next guy, but the thrill of baseball eluded him. Seriously—could it move slower? Give him a sport where something happened. Even if the score was low in hockey or soccer, the players were always doing something. But in baseball entire innings could pass with literally absolutely no action.
The show went to commercial just as the treadmill program ended. Timing, he thought with a grin. He gave the machine a quick disinfectant wipe-down before grabbing his towel and water bottle and heading to the elevators.
His condo was on an upper floor with a view of Puget Sound and the peninsula beyond. He could watch the ferries and cargo ships making their way to port, have a front-row seat to Fourth of July celebrations and admire the storms as they blew through. When the weather was clear—not something that happened all that often in Seattle—he could see the Olympic Mountains. The gorgeous views and accompanying sunsets were very helpful when it came to the ladies—not that he needed props, but a man should have plenty of options in his arsenal.
After showering and dressing in jeans and a Yale Law School sweatshirt, he went down to his two parking spaces in the underground garage. A sleek, midnight blue Mercedes SL convertible sat next to a massive black Cadillac Escalade.
“Not today,” he said, patting the Mercedes. “I have the munchkins.” Not only would their mother not approve of them riding in a convertible, there wasn’t any back seat.
Santiago made his way to his favorite bakery. Unlike the gym, the bakery was jammed with people out on a Saturday morning. He took a small paper number from the machine up front, then waited his turn. When seventy-eight was called, he walked up and grinned at the short, plump woman wearing a hairnet.
“Good morning, Brandi. Is your mother here? You know how I enjoy saying hello to her.”
The fiftysomething woman behind the counter rolled her eyes. “You know it’s me, Santiago. No one is fooled by this game you play.”
He clutched his chest and feigned surprise. “Valia? Is that really you? You’re so beautiful this morning, even more so than usual and I didn’t think that was possible.” He held open his arms. “Come on. You need a hug and so do I.”
She groaned, as if the imposition was too much, but made her way around the counter. Santiago picked her up and spun her around until she shrieked.
“Put me down, you fool! You’ll break your back.”
He set her back on her feet and kissed her cheek. “It would be worth it,” he whispered.
She laughed and slapped his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why I’m your favorite.”
“You’re not my favorite.”
“Liar.”
She chuckled. “How’s your mama?”
“Well. I’m going to see her right now, then take the rug rats to the zoo.” He’d promised them a trip on the first sunny Saturday. Both of them had texted him yesterday with links to the weather report.
“They’re good children.” She eyed him. “You should be married.”
“Maybe.”
“You need a wife.”
“No one needs a wife.”
“You do. You’re getting old.”
“Hey, I’m thirty-four.”
“Practically an old man. Get married soon or no one will want you.”
He held his hands palm up and winked. “Really? Because hey, it’s me.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re not all that.”
“Now who’s lying?”
She handed over a box with his name scrawled on the top. He’d placed his pastry order online after hearing from his niece and nephew.
“My cousin has a daughter,” she began.
He passed her twenty dollars. “Uh-huh. So you’ve mentioned before. I love you, Valia, but no. I’ll find my own girl.”
“You keep saying that, but you never do. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he called as he headed for the door. “I’ll know when I know. Of that I’m sure.”
He crossed the street and got two grande lattes from Starbucks before driving just north of the city to a quiet neighborhood of older homes. Most were either remodeled or in the process of being upgraded, but there were still a few with the original windows and tiny, one-car garages.
He wove through narrow streets until he reached his destination and pulled into the long driveway.
The lot was oversize and had two houses on it. The front one was large—about three thousand square feet, including the basement, with a nice backyard and plenty of light. Behind it was a smaller house—with just a single bedroom—but it was comfortable, private and quiet.
Santiago would never admit it to anyone but every time he came to visit, he felt a flush of pride. He’d been able to do this for his family. Him—some farm worker’s kid from the Yakima Valley. The property was paid for and in a family trust. His brother Paulo and his family lived in the front house and Santiago’s mother lived in the smaller one.
He parked by the latter and walked up the front steps. His mother answered before he could knock.
“All your cars are loud,” she said with a laugh. “You were never one for subtle, were you?”
“Never.”
He gave her a hug and kiss before following her into the bright kitchen decorated in various shades of yellow. As usual, it was scary clean, with nothing out of place. His condo was clean, too, but only because he was rarely there and he had a cleaning service. He handed his mom one of the lattes before opening the pastry box. He got in a single bite before it began.
“How’s work?”
“Good. Busy.”
“Are you eating right? Do you get enough water? You’ve never liked to drink water, but it’s good for your kidneys and keeps you regular.”
“Mom,” he began, not knowing why he bothered. What was it about women over fifty? They just said what they wanted. He tried to summon a little indignation, but he couldn’t. Not about his mom. She’d earned whatever attitude she had now through years of pain, sacrifice and hard work.
She sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter. “Are you losing weight?”
“I weigh exactly the same as I did last time you saw me and last year and the year before.”
“Are you getting sleep? You stay out too late with those women. And why don’t I get to meet any of them? You never bring a girl home.”
“You told me not to unless I was serious.”
“That’s because you go through them like you’re in a revolving door. Look at Paulo. He’s your younger brother and he’s been married twelve years.”
Santiago took another bite of his cinnamon roll, thereby avoiding answering the question. He loved his brother, and his sister-in-law was one of his favorite people on the planet, but there was no way he wanted his brother to be his role model. Paulo had gotten his girlfriend pregnant when they’d both been seniors in high school. They’d married quickly, had their kid and another one two years later.
Paulo had gotten a job on the assembly line at Alberto’s Alfresco and never left. Santiago had tried to talk to him about going to college, or learning a skill but Paulo said he preferred to work the line. He’d moved up to supervisor and that was enough for him.
Hanna, Paulo’s wife, had stayed home with the kids until their youngest was five and then had gone to community college. Now she was in her final year of her nursing program and would graduate in a few months.
“We each have our own path, Mom.”
“You don’t have a path,” his mother grumbled.
He winced. “Please don’t say I have to get married. Valia already lectured me when I stopped by the bakery.”
“Good for her. I worry about you.”
He stood and crossed to her, then kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine.”
The sound of running feet on the walkway offered salvation. Santiago released his mother just as the front door flew open and his niece and nephew raced toward him.
“The zoo opens at nine thirty,” twelve-year-old Emma said. “I have a list of all the baby animals we have to visit. I’m monitoring their development.”
“Of course you are.”
Noah, her ten-year-old brother, scoffed, “She thinks she’s so smart.”
“I am smart,” Emma told him. “I’m going to be a veterinarian. What are you going to be?”
“I’m going to play football!”
Santiago eyed his skinny frame. From what he could tell, Noah took after his mother in build, but maybe the kid would blossom. Or learn to be a kicker. He grabbed them both and squeezed tight enough to make them squeal.
“We’ll look at the baby animals and the bears and the lions,” he said. “Maybe one of you will misbehave and the lion can have you for dinner.”
“Oh, Santiago.” Emma shook her head. “You always threaten to throw us in but you’d never do that. You love us.”
He walked back to the table and sank into his seat. “How can you know that? You’re growing up so fast. It’s depressing.”
“I’ll be thirteen in ten months.”
He looked at his mom. “I don’t like this. Make it stop.”
“Children grow up, Santiago. Sometimes they grow up and get married and have children of their own.”
He faked a smile and thought about banging his head against the table. What was going on today with the women in his life? With his luck, Emma would want to fix him up with one of her teachers. He was happily single. He dated plenty. Some would say too much. He liked his life. One day he would meet the right one and then everything would change but until then, why mess with perfection?
Noah grabbed a jelly donut then slid onto Santiago’s lap. “Can we go to the Lego store after the zoo?”
“Of course.”
Emma perked up. “And the bookstore?”
“Definitely.”
“You spoil them,” his mother murmured.
He looked at her. “And?”
She smiled. “You’re a very good uncle.”
He winked. “Thanks, Mom.”
* * *
Blowing ten grand on a five-year-old’s birthday party was beyond the definition of insane, Callie Smith thought as she positioned the car-shaped cookie cutter over the sandwich and pressed down as evenly as she could. When she carefully peeled away the excess bread, she was left with a perfect car-shaped PB&J sandwich—sans crust, of course.
The menu for the event was fairly simple, and all based on the Disney movie Cars. Small cups contained carrot, celery and cucumber sticks—aka dipsticks. Two kinds of organic punch along with organic apple juice were at the refueling station. The catering firm’s famous mac and cheese had been remade with pasta in the shape of wheels, and there were car-inspired mini hot dogs ready to go. Callie had already put half a cherry tomato and slice of cucumber to simulate wheels onto one hundred toothpicks, ready to be shoved into place when the mini hot dogs were heated and put in the buns.
The cake was an incredible work of art—a stylized twelve-inch-high modified layer cake shaped to look like a mountain with a road circling up to the top where a small car sat, along with a banner reading Happy Birthday Jonathan.
The previous afternoon Callie had filled the loot bags with Cars-related toys, and had carefully rolled all twenty-five Pit Crew T-shirts with the names facing up. Yes, each boy would get a personalized T-shirt to wear for the party and then take home with him.
Janice, her boss and the owner of the catering company, hurried into the kitchen. “I already have a knot in my stomach. The rest of the staff has a pool going on how long it takes the first kid to throw up, but I’m hoping we can get through this one without any disasters. How are you doing?”
Callie pointed to the tray with the PB&J sandwiches. “All ready. I’ll cover them with plastic wrap to keep them fresh. The hot dog wheels are done. Just have someone stick them on before putting in the hot dogs. Veggies are finished, the cake is in place and I’ve put out the loot bags. Oh, and the T-shirts are by the front door to be handed out as the guests arrive. Just so you know, there are three Brandons.”
Janice groaned. “Of course there are.” She looked around their client’s massive kitchen. “You’ve done it again, Callie. You took this idea and ran with it. I would still be trying to figure out how to pull it all together.”
Callie did her best to offer a sincere smile—one without a hint of bitterness. What was going to happen next wasn’t Janice’s fault. Instead, the blame lay squarely on Callie’s shoulders. She could whine and stomp her feet all she wanted. She could point to her ex-boyfriend, but in the end, the decision had been hers and so were the consequences.
Rather than make Janice say it, Callie untied her apron. “I need to get going. The first guests will be arriving and I shouldn’t be here.”
Janice’s mouth twisted as guilt flashed in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just can’t risk it.”
Callie nodded. “Do you want me back at the shop to help with cleanup later?”
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? We have to prep for the Gilman wedding Tuesday morning. I’ll see you then.”
Callie nodded, doing her best not to calculate how much she would have made if she’d been able to stay and work the party. Being an hourly employee meant every penny mattered, but there was no way. She got that...sort of.
“Have fun today.”
Janice gave a strangled laugh. “With twenty-five little boys? I don’t think so.”
Callie got her backpack from the utility room closet, then walked out the back door. She dug out her phone, opened her Uber app and requested a car.
Normally she would just take the bus back home but this part of River Oaks didn’t have a whole lot of public transportation—especially not on a Sunday morning. So she would splurge.
Ten minutes later she was in the silver Ford Focus and heading for her more modest neighborhood. It wasn’t close to work, but it was inexpensive and safe—two priorities for her.
She had the Uber driver drop her off at the H-E-B grocery store so she could get a few things. Only what she could carry home and consume in the next couple of days. The room she rented came with kitchen privileges, but Callie preferred to use the small refrigerator and microwave she kept in her room. She’d learned that storing anything in the main kitchen was a risky proposition. House rules were clear—don’t take food belonging to someone else. Unfortunately enforcement was haphazard and Callie didn’t want to chance someone taking her food.
She heated soup—the dented can had been 50 percent off!—then got out a four-month-old copy of Vogue that she’d fished out of a recycling bin to read while she ate. Janice only took day jobs on Sundays and the caterer was closed on Monday, giving Callie almost thirty-four hours off. At ten on Monday night she would start her other job, cleaning offices in the financial district.
She finished her lunch, then loaded her biggest tote with clothes, sheets and towels before heading to the local Laundromat. The afternoon had warmed up and gotten more humid—fairly typical for Houston in early spring, or any time of year.
The temperature inside the Laundromat had to be in the upper nineties. The crowded, noisy space was filled with families completing chores before the grind of the new week began again.
Callie found two free washers together, loaded her belongings and inserted a ridiculous number of quarters. She was lucky—she had to take care of only herself. Her bed was a twin, so the sheets were small. She could get away with two loads every two weeks, but how did people with kids make ends meet when it was three dollars to wash a load of clothes?
She went over to one of the empty chairs by the window and pretended to read her library book, all the while secretly watching everyone else.
There was a young couple who couldn’t stop smiling at each other. Newlyweds, she decided, noting the modest diamond ring on the woman’s left hand. They were probably saving for their first house. There was a family in the corner. The kids were running around while the parents carefully avoided looking at each other.
Uh-oh. They were fighting big-time. Neither of them wanted to back down. That was never good. One thing she’d learned over the years was the power of saying I’m sorry. People didn’t say it nearly enough.
“Can you read to me?”
Callie looked at the pretty little girl standing in front of her. She was maybe three or four and held a big picture book in her hands. Callie’d seen her mom come in with two other kids and more laundry than she could manage. In the flurry of finding empty washers and loading clothes, the toddler had been forgotten.
“I can,” Callie said. “Is this a good story?”
The girl—with dark hair and eyes—nodded solemnly. “It’s about a mouse who gets lost.”
“Oh, no. Not a lost mouse. Now I have to know if he finds his way home.”
The girl gave her a smile. “It’s okay. He does.”
“Thank you for telling me that. I was really worried.” She slid to the front of her chair and held out her hand for the book. “Would you like me to start?”
The girl nodded and handed over her precious book. Callie opened it and began to read.
“‘Alistair Mouse loved his house. He loved the tall doors and big windows. He loved how soft the carpet was under his mouse feet. He liked the kitchen and the bathroom, but most of all, Alistair loved his bed.’”
Callie pointed to the picture of a very fancy mouse bed. “That’s really nice. I like all the colors in the bedspread.”
The girl inched closer. “Me, too.”
Callie continued to read the story. Just as she was finishing, the girl’s mother walked over and sank down into a nearby chair. She was in her midtwenties and looked as if she had spent the last couple of years exhausted. She waited until Callie was done to say, “Thanks for reading to her. I didn’t mean to dump her like that. It’s just the boys are hyper and there’s so much laundry and damn, it’s so hot in here.”
“It is hot,” Callie said. “No problem. I enjoyed reading about Alistair and his troubles.”
“Again,” the little girl said, gently tapping the book.
“Ryder, no. Leave the nice lady alone.”
“It’s fine,” Callie told her. She flipped back to the front of the book and began again. “‘Alistair Mouse loved his house.’”
This was nice, she thought as she continued with the story. A few minutes of normal with people she would never see again. A chance to be like everyone else.
She read the story two more times, then had to go move her laundry into a dryer. By then Ryder, her brothers and her mother had gone outside where it was slightly cooler and the boys could run on the grass. Callie watched and wondered about them. Where did they come from and why were they here now? Ryder’s mother must have gotten pregnant pretty young—her oldest looked to be seven or eight. So she’d been, what, seventeen?
Unexpected tears burned in Callie’s eyes. Force of habit had her blinking them away before they could be spotted. Tears were a weakness she wasn’t allowed. She’d learned that lesson pretty quick. Only the strong survived.
She and Ryder’s mother were probably the same age or at least within a year of each other, yet Callie felt decades older. Once she’d wanted normal things—to have a good man in her life, get married, have kids, some kind of a career. It had all been so vague back when she’d been eighteen, but it had never occurred to her it wouldn’t happen. That in a single, stupid night she would destroy her future and set herself up for a life of having to explain herself over and over again.
She got her clothes out of the dryer and quickly folded them into her tote before starting the walk back to her small room. Each step on the sidewalk sounded like a never-ending refrain. Convicted felon. Convicted felon. She’d served her time, had, in theory, paid her debt to society, but she was marked forever.
She couldn’t rent a decent apartment because no one wanted a convicted felon in their building. She couldn’t work at a kid’s party as part of the serving staff because no one wanted a convicted felon near their children. She couldn’t get a job in a restaurant, despite having learned all about the food service industry while serving her time, because no one wanted a convicted felon near their customers. She’d earned her GED and had started on her associates degree while behind bars and that didn’t matter, either.
One stupid, foolish, thoughtless act—robbing a liquor store with her loser boyfriend—and her eighteen-year-old self had destroyed her future.
Callie gave herself the entire walk home to mentally beat up on herself but once she walked into her room, she drew in a breath and changed the subject. She’d learned that, too. That a downward spiral was nearly impossible to stop, so she had to make sure she stayed positive as much as she could. She had a plan. It was going to take a while, but she had a plan.
She was saving every penny she could while working two jobs. When she had the money, she would buy a small condo that would be hers—no matter what. Right now having a home was priority one. She hadn’t figured out exactly what she wanted to do, career wise, but she was open to possibilities. As for the great guy and a couple of kids, well, that was unlikely. She was wary of men and not very trusting of anyone who was willing to accept her past, so she was mostly alone, which was fine. One day it would all be better. It had to be. It just had to be.
chapter three (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Mornings at the coffee stand were crazy busy, with only occasional lulls. Delaney worked efficiently, her gaze drawn again and again to the building’s large glass doors. Okay, yes, she and Malcolm had flirted on Friday. Big whoop. There was no reason to think he would acknowledge her in any way when he arrived this morning. There’d been an entire weekend between then and now. He could have totally forgotten her or gotten engaged. For all she knew, he was married.
No, she thought. He wasn’t an icky guy. She had a feeling he was single—he just didn’t strike her as the type to two-time. Although she could be totally wrong about that. From when she was sixteen until two years ago, there had only been one man in her life, so she was hardly anything close to a good judge of male character, but still. She didn’t think Malcolm was involved with anyone or—
She glanced up from her place at the cash register and saw him walking through the building’s large lobby. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to acknowledge her, but then he turned in her direction and winked. A silly gesture that took a nanosecond and meant nothing yet had happiness and anticipation and bubbly excitement flooding through her. Oh, man, she had it bad, and for someone she barely knew.
She smiled at him before returning her attention to the next customer. Three people back, she spotted one of her favorite customers.
“Luzia,” she called and nodded toward the preteen in a school uniform.
Luzia took Delaney’s place at the cash register. “Is she your sister or something?”
“No. Just a friend.”
“You take your break with her every day.”
“I know. It’s fun.”
Two months ago Keira had walked up to the counter and demanded a double espresso. Delaney had laughed and offered hot chocolate instead. There had been a few minutes of quiet so they’d talked. Delaney had learned that Keira was twelve, new to the area, starting at the exclusive private school across the street and didn’t have any family, save a brother and grandfather.
Over the past few weeks, she and Keira had formed a friendship of sorts. Keira opened up about her disdain for the school uniforms: “Seriously? Plaid? What? Are we in a porn movie?” and her dislike of her, as she called him, “asshole brother.”
Delaney couldn’t help thinking that underneath all that attitude was a scared little girl desperate to be loved. Not that she had any kids of her own, so maybe she was totally off base. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that despite having family, Keira was way too alone in the world.
Delaney finished making a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, grabbed a black coffee for herself, then went around to one of the small tables at the side of the coffee stand where Keira was already seated.
“Thank you,” Keira said, taking the drink from her. “How was your weekend?”
“Good. I mostly studied. What did you do?”
“Nothing. I stayed in my room and read and watched movies.”
Which is pretty much what Keira did every weekend, Delaney thought anxiously. The preteen needed more in her life.
“What about friends? You’re making them at school. You told me. Didn’t you want to do anything with them?”
Keira, a pretty girl with big blue eyes and freckles, looked at her. “You do realize that would mean someone driving me somewhere. It’s not going to happen. I’m not sure if my grandfather is still allowed to drive. Don’t they take away your license when you get to be really, really old? I guess I could ask Carmen. She might help me.”
“The housekeeper?”
Keira nodded. “She’s nice and she cooks great. As for my ass—”
Delaney cleared her throat. “We agreed you weren’t going to call him that anymore.”
“But he really is one. I can prove it.”
Delaney looked at her without speaking.
Keira groaned. “Fine. Fine. Can I call him my A-brother?”
“As in A+?”
Keira laughed. “Not that. Never that. A+. That’s funny. How’s biology?”
“Good. Scary, but good. I got a B on my first test.”
“That’s great! You were afraid you wouldn’t even pass.”
“I know. College is harder than I remember from the first time.”
“You’ll get it.”
Keira was a sweet kid, Delaney thought. Funny, smart and, despite her feelings about her brother, kind. She always asked about Delaney’s life and remembered what they’d talked about.
From what Delaney had pieced together, Keira had moved to Seattle from Los Angeles where she’d been living in foster care. But after that, the details got fuzzy. Apparently she lived in a big house with her grandfather, her older half brother and a housekeeper. Why the older brother wasn’t on his own but instead lived with his grandfather was something of a mystery. Delaney wondered if maybe there were mental or emotional issues, which might explain his inability to connect with his sister.
“About your friends,” Delaney began. “Are you hanging out with different people every day, like we talked about?”
“I am. Sometimes they just ignore me, but a few are talking back.” She sighed. “It’s hard. I’m not charming. Angelina was charming.”
“Angelina is...”
“The drag queen who took me in when my mom took off. He was born Carl, but in his heart he was always meant to be an Angelina. After Angelina Jolie. He, I mean, she totally respects Angelina’s life choices.” She lowered her voice. “Not counting Brad Pitt, of course. Because I mean really. Why? But all those children and the work she does around the world? That’s why she took me in. I didn’t have anybody.”
“You have family now,” Delaney said, not sure how much of the Carl/Angelina story was true. She wished she could talk to the asshole brother and tell him to step up and take some responsibility. Keira was desperately lonely. Why wasn’t anyone looking out for her beyond paying for private school and giving her a roof over her head?
Keira ignored the family comment and said, “Angelina wants to transition. Carl/Angelina, I mean, not the actress. She’s saving for the surgery, then wants to move to Hawaii because everything is beautiful there and she loves beautiful things.”
Keira opened her mouth to say something else, only instead of speaking she jumped to her feet, screamed “No!” at the top of her lungs, then raced out of the lobby.
Delaney was so stunned it took her a full second before she could move. She ran after Keira who was barreling out the doors and into the busy street. Before Delaney could figure out what was happening, she saw Keira bend down and pick up something from the street, then turn back toward the safety of the sidewalk. But before she could make it, there was a hideous screech of brakes followed by a horrible thud as a Prius struck Keira, sending her into the air, then back onto the street where she lay lifeless, a tiny kitten cradled in her small hands.
The world went silent. All Delaney heard was the beating of her own heart. Everything moved in slow motion as the driver flung open the car door and ran toward the fallen girl. People emerged from everywhere to surround her. Phones were pulled out as dozens called 9-1-1.
Shock later, action now, Delaney thought, willing her limbs to move. She stumbled to Keira’s side and fell to her knees next to her. Keira’s eyes fluttered open.
“Take care of the kitten,” she murmured, passing the small animal to Delaney before groaning. “I hurt.”
“Just stay still, Keira. It’s okay. An ambulance is coming. I’ll take the kitten.” The tiny creature trembled in her hands. “I’ll stay right here.”
“You know her?” a woman asked.
“She’s a friend of mine. She, ah, goes to the private school. Keira...” Delaney swore. “I don’t know her last name. She has a brother and a grandfather.”
Her brother! Delaney had to call him. Only where was Keira’s phone?
She looked around and realized the girl’s backpack was still next to her chair in the lobby eating area. Before Delaney could figure out what to do, Luzia ran out with Delaney’s purse in one hand and Keira’s backpack in the other.
“Are you going with her to the hospital?”
Delaney hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’m going to call her brother to meet us there.”
Delaney dug for the phone while a man yelled he would go tell someone at the school that one of their students had been injured. Delaney found the phone just as an ambulance pulled up.
She scrolled through the short contact list, then, despite everything, smiled. Right under the As—Asshole Brother.
As the EMTs began to work on Keira, the girl called out. “Delaney, don’t leave me.” She looked at the guy helping her. “She’s my sister and she has to come with me.”
“Sure. No problem. Now tell me where it hurts. Can you move your toes? Not your legs, just your toes. We’re going to stabilize you, then get you to the hospital.”
“I can move my toes and it hurts everywhere.” Tears seeped out of the corners of Keira’s eyes. “Delaney!”
“I’m right here. I’m calling your brother to let him know what happened.”
“Don’t bother. He won’t care.”
The tears came faster now and she started to sob. “It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop.” The sobs turned into screams.
Delaney’s own eyes burned as she pushed the button on the phone. Pick up, pick up, she thought frantically. The kitten stayed perfectly still, huddled against her chest.
“Hello?”
“Are you Keira’s brother?”
“What? Yes. Who is this?”
“A friend of hers. Look, she’s been hit by a car. She’s conscious but I don’t know how badly she’s hurt. They’re taking her to the hospital. Hold on.” She turned to the EMTs who were loading Keira on a stretcher. “Which hospital?”
She repeated the information to Keira’s brother. “I’m going with her so she won’t be by herself. I have the kitten, too.”
“Kitten. What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“Delaney, don’t leave me!”
She saw that Keira was in the ambulance. She ran toward it. “I have to go. I’ll meet you at the hospital. Hurry.” She ended the call and started to climb in the back. One of the EMTs protested, but Delaney stared him down.
“She’s a kid who was just hit by a car. Give us both a break, okay?”
He nodded and helped her inside. Delaney sat close to Keira.
“It’s going to be okay,” she told the still-crying girl. “I’m right here.”
She shrugged out of her sweater, folded it up and put it in her tote, then settled the kitten on top of it. “Once I know you’re taken care of, I’ll see to our little friend here. Do you trust me to do that?”
Keira nodded, even as she cried. “It hurts so much.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m here.”
The EMT in the back started an IV, then the sirens came on and they were moving. Delaney knew what was next—the hospital, where the sounds and smells would bring everything back. She mentally braced herself for the onslaught, even as she hung on to Keira’s hand. For all she knew, she was all Keira had.
* * *
Malcolm barely glanced in his rearview mirror before performing an illegal U-turn. He’d been on his way to the company’s SoDo warehouse when he’d gotten the call about Keira. As he calculated the best way to get from here to the hospital in morning rush hour traffic, he pushed the button to activate his Mercedes’s voice control.
“Call home.”
“Calling home. Landline. Dialing.”
Seconds later he heard ringing. Carmen picked up. “Hello, Carlesso residence.”
“Carmen, it’s Malcolm. Someone just phoned to tell me Keira was in an accident.” He hesitated before saying she’d been hit by a car. He had no idea how bad things were or what was going to happen. “I’m on my way to the hospital right now. Please call the school and find out what they know. And don’t tell my grandfather until I get to the hospital and figure out what’s going on. He’ll get upset.”
“Keira? At the hospital?” Carmen’s voice was thick with tears. “No. Not that little girl. Is she all right? What happened? She was fine this morning.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I find out what has happened. Can you call the school for me?”
“Yes, of course.” Her voice broke. “I will pray for her. She’s so small. She must be afraid. When you see her, tell her I love her. Tell her I’m praying for her.”
“I will,” he said, wondering if it was physically possible to repeat that Carmen loved her. He’d managed to avoid that particular word for years now. “I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
“Yes and I’ll let you know what the school says.”
“Thank you.”
He hung up. What had happened? How on earth had Keira been hit by a car? She went over to the building’s coffee stand every morning, but she knew enough to use the crosswalk, didn’t she? They’d never talked about it. He’d just assumed...
Of course she knew, he told himself. She was twelve, practically thirteen. Kids were mature these days. They knew things and understood how the world worked. She would be fine. She always was. She took care of herself and—
He gripped the steering wheel harder, as he silently swore. Powerful, ugly guilt swamped him. He recognized the symptoms because he had a lot to be guilty about. His grandfather and now Keira. She was a kid and while he wanted to be there for her, he honest to God didn’t know what to do with her. So he made sure she had what she needed and did his best to avoid her. Carmen seemed to pick up the slack, but was that enough?
He’d meant to do more, had wanted to get to know her, only he hadn’t known how and he was still so angry with their father. Jerry’s betrayal haunted him like a taunting ghost and in the end it was easier to avoid anyone who looked the least bit like him. It was easier to avoid his half sister, to tell himself she was doing just fine in her room at the opposite end of the hall.
He pushed the thoughts away. They weren’t helpful right now. Later he could indulge in a little self-loathing but until then he had to focus on the problem at hand.
He arrived at the hospital in record time and found parking by the emergency entrance. At the information desk, he gave his name, Keira’s and said he was her brother. The receptionist entered the information into her computer.
“She’s here,” the woman said. “Room 47. Through those doors, then follow the signs. They’ve taken her to get some X-rays, so she might not be there.”
He pushed open one of the swinging double doors and was assaulted by the smells and sounds of a busy hospital. There were dozens of exam rooms, each filled with patients and families. Medical personnel hurried from place to place, patient charts in their hands as a calm voice requested Dr. Herron call extension five-two-three. Orderlies moved equipment and in the distance, someone was screaming.
Malcolm felt his gut tighten as he followed the signs to Keira’s room. He hoped to hell she hadn’t been left alone. She was too young, and she had to be terrified, assuming she was conscious. He came to a stop as he realized he didn’t know how badly she was injured.
Guilt later, he reminded himself and started walking again. He turned another corner and saw room numbers in the forties, then found forty-seven. The door was open and the bed was empty. He started to leave only to realize there was someone else in the room. Someone who—
The woman turned and stared at him. Her green eyes were wide, her face pale. Under any other circumstances, her expression of surprise would have been comical.
“Delaney? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask the same thing. Oh God! You’re the asshole brother? No. It’s you? Keira’s your sister?”
Half sister. Only he didn’t say that. “How do you know her?”
“She gets a hot chocolate every morning. We’re friends. I take my break and we talk.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You’re her brother? But you never talk to her. You walk into the building at the same time, but it’s like you’re a stranger. I never imagined you even knew her. What’s with that? She’s your sister and you don’t say goodbye.” Tears filled her eyes. “She’s a little girl. You’re supposed to say goodbye.”
He reached for her instinctively. Tears turned into sobs. He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a few seconds, only to feel something odd between them. Something moving.
He stepped back as a small black-and-white kitten crawled out of her tote and mewed.
Too much was happening at once, he thought, struggling to make sense of the input.
A nurse stuck her head in the room. “Delaney, hon, just wanted to let you know, she’s doing great. She’ll be back in a second.” She lowered her voice. “Nothing’s broken that we can see. She’s banged up pretty bad, but so far so good. There’s still her head to worry about, but we’ll get those tests done in a little bit.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “I thought you’d want to know.”
The woman left without acknowledging Malcolm. He turned to Delaney, who was petting the kitten and easing it back into her tote.
“Why is she telling you that? How come she knows you?”
Delaney sucked in a breath. “My dad was a cop. A couple of years ago he was shot and brought here. He was in the hospital over a month. I pretty much know everyone who works here.”
“Is your father all right?”
“Yeah. He’s in a wheelchair, but he’s doing fine. He got engaged a few months ago.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble concentrating. Everything happened so fast and there was no way to stop her. She just ran into the street.”
“Why?”
Delaney stared at him. “The kitten. She saw the kitten and didn’t want it to be run over.”
Instead she’d been hit by a car.
Before he could ask any more questions, Keira was wheeled back into the room. She looked impossibly small in the bed. Her skin was a pale contrast to angry scrapes and bruises. She wasn’t moving—he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
Guilt merged with panic. Shouldn’t someone do something?
Delaney took one of Keira’s hands. “Hey, you,” she whispered. “Your brother is here. You should have told me his name was Malcolm. Not knowing that made for a very awkward call.”
Keira’s eyes fluttered, then stayed closed.
“You’re going to be okay, Keira,” Delaney continued. “You’re going to be okay.”
They couldn’t know that for sure, he thought grimly. Why wasn’t she awake? Wasn’t a brain injury more significant than any broken bones?
A doctor walked in. She was about five-four, with gray hair and a kind expression. “You two are the siblings?” she asked.
Delaney smiled. “Hi, Dr. Newport. This is Malcolm. He’s Keira’s brother. I’m a friend.”
Dr. Newport smiled. “You’re assuming I’ll make an exception and allow you to stay.”
“I kind of am.”
“Then I will.” The doctor turned to Malcolm and offered her hand. “Mr....”
“Carlesso. Call me Malcolm. How is she?”
“Bruised and sore, but otherwise intact.” She went on to detail the injuries Keira had sustained when she’d been hit by the car. “She’s incredibly lucky. All her vitals are normal and her concussion is very mild. Still, we’ll want to keep her overnight for observation. Just to be safe. She’ll need to stay quiet for a few days, until the worst of the pain passes. She’s going to be stiff and sore for a while.”
He glanced at Keira who still had her eyes closed. “Why is she unconscious?”
“She’s asleep. We gave her something for the pain. Even without serious injuries, her body suffered major trauma. She’ll wake up in a bit and you’ll be able to talk to her.”
Dr. Newport promised to look in on Keira before she was taken up to the pediatric floor. Malcolm excused himself to phone Carmen with an update. When he returned to the room, there was yet another nurse there, chatting with Delaney. When the nurse saw Malcolm, she hugged Delaney, then walked over to him.
“Hi. I need to get Keira’s medical history. She was pretty out of it when she came in and Delaney didn’t have any info.” She opened her tablet and looked at him. “We’ll start with the big stuff and work back. Any allergies or sensitivities?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What about major surgeries?”
“I don’t know.” He looked at the bed, then back at the nurse. “I don’t know. She’s my half sister. She moved here from Los Angeles a couple of months ago. My grandfather arranged it. Let me call home and find out if he knows anything or if she came with medical records.”
“Any medical information would be helpful. As an FYI, you’re going to need her vaccination information for school and sports. Oh, wait.” The nurse smiled reassuringly. “She’s in school, right?”
“Yes. Puget Sound Preparatory Academy.”
The nurse and Delaney exchanged a look. “Someone would have had to fill out a medical history to get her enrolled,” the nurse told him. “So there is some information.”
“I’ll call Carmen,” he muttered, feeling more and more out of his element.
“Great. Just buzz when you have the information and I’ll come back.” She smiled and left.
Malcolm stared after her. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said, knowing his tone was defensive. “My grandfather enrolled her in the school. It’s only been two months.” How could he be expected to know very much about her?
Except she was his sister, a small voice in his head whispered.
“So it’s all true,” Delaney said. “I thought she was making it up.”
“Making what up?”
“All of it. Moving from Los Angeles, that she’s only been here a couple of months. Carl and Angelina.”
“Who are Carl and Angelina?”
“It’s really not important.” She touched his arm. “She’s going to be okay. That’s what’s important, Malcolm. Focus on that and let the rest take care of itself over time.”
He nodded at her tote. “That’s the kitten?”
“Uh-huh. I’ll take care of it until Keira’s better.”
He got the implied message. That of course his sister would be keeping the damned kitten that nearly got her killed, although at this point, the kitten was the least of it.
“I need to call Carmen and get her medical records,” he said.
“The housekeeper?”
“Yes. Thank you for staying with her.” He felt like he should say more, but couldn’t think what.
“It’s fine. She’s sweet and I was glad to do it. She shouldn’t be alone.”
Malcolm thought of Keira’s large suite of rooms at the far end of the hall. If she wasn’t at school, she was alone most of the time. Sometimes she even ate dinner by herself. He should do better, he told himself. She was only a kid. It was just...
“Why did you call me the asshole brother?” he asked, suddenly remembering what she’d said when he’d first arrived. She couldn’t possibly know enough to judge him.
Delaney flushed. “Sorry about that. I was surprised to see you.” She looked away then back at him before digging in her tote and handing him a phone.
“It’s Keira’s,” she said. “She never refers to you by name.” She pointed to the phone. “It’s, uh, in the contacts.”
He pressed a couple of buttons, then scrolled through the info. Sure enough, under the As—Asshole Brother. So much for having to guess how she felt about him.
“I need to call Carmen,” he repeated.
“Go ahead. I’ll stay here in case she wakes up.”
He nodded and walked out of the room. Delaney would stay for now, but then what? At some point he was going to have to deal with Keira himself. He glanced at the phone. Apparently that day of reckoning had just arrived.
chapter four (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Monday mornings were Callie’s favorite time of the week. From eight until eleven, she could be anyone she wanted. A princess, an astronaut, or just some housewife filling a few empty hours. The cats at the shelter didn’t care about anything but the fact that Callie changed out their litter boxes then spent time brushing them.
There was no way she could have a pet herself, but working at the shelter allowed her to get a little feline love in her life. There were plenty of head butts and purrs, as if the cats were thanking her for what she’d done.
When she’d first applied to volunteer, she’d been delighted not to find the ever-present felon question on the application. She’d taken the orientation class and had offered to clean out litter boxes. Not glamorous work, but satisfying all the same.
She liked coming in and finding out one of the older cats had finally found a good home. She was happy to work with the more crabby residents, taking extra time with them. On the first Monday of every month, she carefully slipped a twenty-dollar bill into the volunteer collection can by the locker room. It wasn’t much, but it was a significant part of her weekly spending money and the most she could do.
When Callie finished her shift, her T-shirt was covered in cat hair and she had an impressive scratch on her arm from a new kitty. He might be upset now, she thought as she washed her hands before leaving, but if he was still around next week, she would win him over.
She signed out, then started for the bus stop. She’d barely made it halfway across the parking lot when she became aware of a sleek black car keeping pace with her.
The vehicle was too nice to belong to the kind of criminal who would want to steal her battered secondhand backpack and there were plenty of people around should she want to scream and run. Even if she got abducted, someone would probably capture it on video.
With that not-very-comforting thought uppermost in her mind, she stopped, turned to the vehicle, put her hands on her hips and yelled, “What do you want?”
The car came to a stop beside her and a woman in her midthirties rolled down the window. She was well dressed and looked concerned.
“Oh, crap. I scared you, didn’t I? I’m sorry. I was on the phone with my kid who’s trying to convince me he’s sick enough that he can’t take his history test and I totally wasn’t paying attention. I’m the worst. I’m sorry. Are you Callie Smith?”
Callie relaxed. “Who are you?”
“Shari Martin. I’m a lawyer.” The dark-haired woman grinned. “I stopped working to have kids and let me just say, getting back into the real world isn’t easy. Word to the wise, don’t do it. Children are not worth the trouble.” She shook her head. “Look, there I go again. This conversation isn’t about me at all.”
Shari got out of her car and handed Callie a business card. “I really am who I said I am. I need to talk to you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Callie’s radar went on alert, even as she told herself she’d done nothing wrong. She’d served her time, lived in the halfway house the exact number of days she was supposed to, filled out all the paperwork and didn’t have so much as a jaywalking ticket.
“What is this about?”
Shari’s friendly expression softened. “Your grandfather on your father’s side. He’s been looking for you, hon. I’m hoping he’s found you.”
Callie felt her legs go weak. “That’s not possible. There is no...”
No father? Of course there was a father—she hadn’t hatched—but what she knew about him was sketchy at best.
Her mother had met a charming salesman at a convention. She’d been one of the models, as much on display as the product she was selling. Jerry Carlesso had walked over, smiled and introduced himself. According to Callie’s mother, that had been the end of it. She’d fallen wildly, madly in love. Three months later, she’d turned up pregnant and Jerry had taken off.
He hadn’t wanted anything to do with his daughter. He’d sent child support on and off, had never visited. Callie knew next to nothing about him. As for a grandfather, there was no way.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly, raising her chin.
“So the name Jerry Carlesso doesn’t mean anything to you?”
Callie had a bad feeling her expression gave her away.
Shari nodded toward her car. “There’s a nice little place about three blocks from here. We’ll have coffee and split a Danish. That way neither of us have to count the calories. I’ll talk, you’ll listen, then you can make up your mind about what you want to do.”
Callie thought about how she finally had her life together. Okay, things weren’t great, but she was doing fine. She was saving money, working her jobs and in time, she would figure out how to be more than what she was with the albatross of her conviction hanging around her neck. She didn’t need anyone, ever. That had become her rule to survive. She was completely and totally on her own.
Only when Shari held open the passenger door, she found herself walking toward the car. Before she could get her scrambled thoughts together, they were pulling out on the street and then it seemed silly not to go in and get coffee and a Danish and hear Shari out.
It was still early for the lunch crowd. She and Shari found a quiet booth at the back of the small café. They ordered coffee and agreed to split a cheese Danish. When the coffee had been poured, Shari pulled a folder out of her Kate Spade tote.
“All right. Your mother is Annette Smith. You are Callie Smith and you were born in Norman, Oklahoma, September 27, 1991. Your father is Jerry Carlesso, who had an affair with your mother, denied paternity but paid child support.” Shari flipped through her notes, then wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t very regular with the payments.” She looked up. “Is that right?”
Callie could only shrug. Everything about the moment was far too surreal. She never thought about her father. She’d never met the man and her mother hadn’t talked about him beyond saying their relationship hadn’t worked out and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Callie guessed he hadn’t been the nicest guy on the planet and had often wondered if she got the dark parts of her personality from him.
“So here’s the story,” Shari said with a smile. “At least as much as I know. Your father passed away a couple years ago. His father, your paternal grandfather—” Shari slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”
“Blurted out what?”
“That your dad’s dead. I’m horrible. Please forgive me.”
“You’re way more upset than me,” Callie told her. “I never met the man and he abandoned my mom when he found out she was pregnant. I honestly never think of him, so there’s no sense of loss. It’s fine.”
“Still. I have got to be more sensitive. I have three boys. I think they’ve worn me down.” Shari drew in a breath. “Okay, back to your family. You still have a paternal grandfather, Alberto, along with a half brother and a half sister. They all live in Seattle. If you’re who I think you are, then the family would like to meet you.”
A brother and a sister? A grandfather? Callie hadn’t had any family beyond her mother. Not ever. It had always been just the two of them. Since losing her mom five years ago, it had only been her, which was how she liked it.
Her stomach tightened and she found it a little tough to draw in a breath.
“So here’s the thing,” Shari said. “We have to confirm the family connection using a DNA test. I need to swab your cheek and overnight it to the lab. They’ll get it tomorrow and we’ll get a call on Wednesday.” She grinned. “They can do the test in like twenty-four hours. It’s pretty rad.”
Callie managed a smile. “Rad?”
Shari groaned. “Damn kids. Anyway, that’s where we are. Once the DNA test confirms you’re part of the family, I have a ticket to Seattle for you.”
Callie’s chest tightened even more. “I’m not sure I want to meet them. I mean it’s all happening so fast. I need to think.”
Shari leaned toward her. “Oh, you’ll want to meet them. They’re very well-off and there’s a trust fund set up for you, Jerry’s oldest daughter. If they’re your family, you should go. I’ve been looking for you for nearly two months. You were hard to find. Some of it is your last name is so common and some of it is you don’t want to be found.”
Callie shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t exactly live off the grid, but she had very little contact with the digital world. Plus she’d moved frequently since getting out of prison. First to the halfway house, then to a series of rented rooms until she’d found the one she was in now.
“I wasn’t hiding,” she said defensively.
“I know, hon. This is a lot. Once the DNA test is confirmed, I have a bunch of information to give you, but until then, consider the possibility. It might be the second chance you’ve been hoping for.”
Callie flushed. She shouldn’t be surprised that Shari knew about her past—it would have been the first thing to pop during an investigation. But still, it was humiliating. And something she was never going to be able to put behind her, she thought grimly.
“They know?” she asked.
“Your grandfather does. I don’t know if he’s told anyone else.”
“We don’t know he’s my grandfather.”
Shari hesitated, then pulled a photograph out of her tote. It was black-and-white and obviously taken at a professional shoot years and years ago. The woman in the picture was about Callie’s age and looked enough like her that they could have been sisters. Their eyes had the same shape, as did their mouths and the slope of their shoulders.
“Your paternal grandmother,” Shari said. “She’s no longer with us, but when Alberto sent me this, I just knew I’d found you.” She nodded at the picture. “You can keep that.”
Callie touched the picture gingerly—half afraid of claiming it or the woman in the photograph. How could this be happening? She was twenty-six and she knew nothing about her father or his family. To have them show up now made no sense. She should get up and walk away. Even if someone was looking for her, she didn’t want to be found.
Before she could bolt, she wrestled with the fact that she might have family. For so long, it had just been a word, a concept that described other people’s lives, but not hers. If she wasn’t alone...
No! She was the only person she could depend on. She didn’t need anyone else, and even if she did, she knew the danger of hoping, of believing, of trusting. Yes, her mother had always been there for her, but no one else.
Indecision tugged at her. She thought of her small rented room and her meager savings account. The possibility of a trust fund was a real lure. Even a few thousand dollars would mean finishing college and helping her with her condo fund. As for belonging, what were the odds? She would do better to take whatever money there was and disappear. Getting involved would only mean breaking someone’s heart. She should know.
She drew in a breath as she surrendered to the inevitable.
“Where do I take the DNA test?”
Shari grinned and pulled a long, narrow plastic bag out of her tote. “Right here.” She waved the bag. “Like I said, technology is rad. Ready?”
No. No, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t anything but scared and nauseous and fighting hope with every fiber of her being. But she wouldn’t show any of that. Instead she squared her shoulders and leaned forward. “I’m ready. Let’s do this and find out who I am.”
* * *
Delaney drove the handful of miles between her small condo and her father’s house. As she got closer to the house where she’d grown up, the streets became more and more familiar. She could point to restaurants, corner stores and the school and remember specific events. The park where she’d played softball. The movie theater where a boy had first held her hand. The deli where she and her dad had gone every Wednesday night to get takeout. Much of Seattle was changing but her old neighborhood had thus far been spared. She knew gentrification was coming but hoped it would hold off for a while. It was nice to know that some things didn’t change.
As she pulled onto her street, she slowed. Between the two stop signs there were about thirty homes. When she’d been a kid, she’d known the names of every family, had hung out at most of their houses. Her mother had died during childbirth so Delaney had never known her but that didn’t mean she’d grown up without maternal influence. Instead she’d had about thirty moms all looking out for her. Screwing up and getting away with it hadn’t been an option. There were too many watchful, caring sets of eyes.
She parked in front of her father’s house, her BMW out of place in the working-class neighborhood. For the thousandth time Delaney thought she should sell it and replace it with something more...ordinary. The four-wheel-drive sedan was a reminder of her old life. She’d been so proud when she’d bought it with her own money. Tim had wanted her to get something sensible—like a small SUV. That was a car for a growing family. They’d compromised, with her promising to sell the BMW when they got married and started having kids. Something that had never happened, she thought, stepping out of the car.
A minivan pulled up next to her. Delaney smiled when she recognized her friend.
“Hey, you,” she called, stepping close to the vehicle.
Chelsea, a pretty brunette with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, grinned at her. “You here to see your dad?”
“I am. How’s it going with you?”
“Busy!” She nodded at the infant and toddler, both in their car seats behind her. “We have a doctor’s appointment and I’m running late. I can’t remember the last time I showered and the in-laws are coming over tonight. It’s card night.” She sighed. “We have to get together and catch up. Say yes like you mean it.”
“I do mean it,” Delaney told her.
Chelsea rolled up her window and waved as she headed down the street.
Delaney watched her go. A few years ago, she had assumed she would be living a life just like Chelsea’s herself. Married with a couple of kids, in-laws dropping by on a regular basis. Tim had talked about it all the time—what they would name their kids, what kind of tent camper they would buy and where they would drive to on their vacations. His dreams had all been the kind most people could relate to—getting married, having a family, putting his kids through college and living in the same house until he was too old to manage the stairs.
She’d wanted those dreams, too. Had told herself she would be happy when it finally happened. Only she’d been the one to take a different path from everyone she knew. First getting her college degree in finance, then taking a job at Boeing. She’d moved up in the company, had moved away from the neighborhood—only a few miles, but still a world away. She’d been the one to buy a condo on her own, and the BMW. Her dreams had been bigger than Tim’s. Now, nearly eighteen months after his death, she wondered if he’d realized that and, if he had, what he’d thought about it.
She circled her car and opened the passenger door. The tiny kitten was asleep in the cardboard carrier the veterinary office had given her. The vet had guessed the kitten to be nine or ten weeks old. Weaned, but still a baby. Underweight, female and uninjured. His guess had been that she’d been abandoned. The staff had fed her after they’d checked her out and now she was sleeping off her feast.
“You’re going to need a name,” Delaney murmured. Picking one out would be fun for Keira, and a distraction from the pain of her recovery. She might not have any serious injuries, but she was going to be sore for a while.
Delaney carried the sleeping kitten up to the front door. The house had been built back in the 1940s, but modernized over the years. A ramp led from the driveway to the front door. Delaney took the stairs, then glanced at the specially modified van parked by the ramp. Her dad had come a long way, she thought, grateful for his recovery. She knocked once, then let herself in the unlocked front door.
“Hi,” she called. “It’s me.”
“Hi, pumpkin,” her dad called. “We’re back here.”
Back here meant the kitchen, Delaney thought with a smile. Because that was where everyone always was in this house.
The kitchen was large and open, more great room than just a space to prepare meals. There was a big table in the middle, a wood-burning fireplace in the corner and a couple of worn sofas by the back windows. On the opposite wall were the cabinets, the stove and a large island.
When her father saw her, he grinned and wheeled toward her. “How’s my best girl?”
Phil Holbrook was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man in his midfifties. Despite his inability to walk, he kept himself in shape and never let on that he found his wheelchair a problem.
“I’m good, Dad.” She leaned over to hug him, then handed him the carrier. “This is the unexpected little friend I mentioned.”
Beryl, a petite blonde two years older than Phil, came out from around the island and took the carrier. “Oh, she’s precious. How old is she?”
“The vet thinks nine or ten weeks. She was probably abandoned.”
Beryl looked at Phil. “Oh, honey, a homeless kitten.”
“No,” Phil said mildly. “We’re not getting a kitten. This one already has a home.”
“But what about another homeless kitten?”
“We’re going to start traveling. We’ve got that European cruise booked for September. What would we do with a cat?”
Beryl looked pleadingly at Delaney. “Maybe you could keep her.”
“Oh, I’m so staying out of this,” she said with a laugh.
“Travel,” Phil said mildly. “Lots and lots of travel.”
Beryl mock pouted. “I hate it when you’re sensible.”
“No, you don’t.”
She lightly kissed him. “No, I don’t.”
Delaney set the carrier on the floor by the sofa. Beryl and her family had always been a fixture in Delaney’s life from the time she was born. When Phil had been unexpectedly widowed and left with a newborn to care for, the neighborhood women had stepped in to help. Each mom had taken a shift, allowing Phil to go back to work. Delaney had grown up with Beryl’s three kids, including Tim who was four years older than she was. The families had been close with Tim following in Phil’s footsteps, career wise. After getting his associates degree, he’d joined the Seattle Police Department.
Ten years ago, Beryl had lost her husband to cancer and the neighborhood had rallied again. When Phil had been shot in the same ambush that killed Tim, Beryl and Delaney had gotten each other through the initial shock and grief.
Delaney wasn’t sure when friendship had turned to more between the neighbors, but she was glad her father had finally found someone to love. He was recovered enough to have a relatively normal life and now he had someone to share it with. A few months before, he’d proposed to Beryl and she’d accepted. They were getting married in a quiet ceremony in late August, then taking their first cruise together in September.
Beryl straightened. “Go ahead,” she told Delaney. “Your kitten will be fine until you’re back. And while you’re gone, I’ll put together some food for you to take home. You’re not eating enough.”
“I’m eating plenty.”
Beryl didn’t look convinced. “You’re thinner every time I see you.”
“I wish that were true,” Delaney said with a laugh. “All right, I’m off to the pet store. I won’t be long.”
She’d told Malcolm she would keep Keira’s kitten until Keira was home and able to take care of it herself. She’d half expected him to protest, saying his sister couldn’t keep the kitten, but he’d only thanked her for helping.
As she slid behind the wheel of her car and started the engine, she admitted she was having trouble reconciling the confident suit-wearing guy she knew from the office to the shell-shocked brother she’d met at the hospital. She still couldn’t believe Malcolm was Keira’s asshole brother.
From what Keira had told her, she’d been living in foster care in Los Angeles when she’d been found by her long-lost family. Malcolm had flown down to LA to bring her to Seattle. Once settled in her fancy digs, she’d been enrolled at the very upscale Puget Sound Preparatory Academy and pretty much left on her own.
Delaney hadn’t known how much of Keira’s story was true and how much of it wasn’t. Now she was even less sure. Not that she thought anyone was starving the preteen or beating her, but benign neglect wasn’t exactly nurturing.
Malcolm seemed like a decent guy so what was going on at home? Was it possible he simply didn’t know what to do with a twelve-year-old? And what about the grandfather? Where was he in all this?
Delaney sighed. Maybe she was exaggerating the problem. Maybe there wasn’t a problem at all. She would have to scope things out when she returned the kitten and then... Well, she didn’t know what, but she’d been raised to take care of anyone in need and if she thought Keira needed her, she would be there in a heartbeat.
chapter five (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
“I’m worried,” Grandfather Alberto said as he sipped his morning coffee. “Keira is so young, so small. What a terrible thing to have happened.”
“She’s recovering. The doctor said she’s going to be fine. Carmen is taking her to her pediatrician tomorrow.” Malcolm paused, not knowing what else to say to comfort the old man.
Carmen had kept the news about Keira’s accident from Alberto until Malcolm had confirmed his granddaughter was going to be all right. Still, Alberto had gone pale and even two days after her accident, he was more frail than Malcolm had ever seen him. His breakfast—oatmeal, two poached eggs and a bowl of fresh fruit—sat untouched. More uncomfortable, it was after seven and he hadn’t bothered to dress yet. This from a man who was up by five thirty and in a suit and tie well before breakfast.
“I sat with her yesterday.” Alberto’s gaze was fixed on the table. “She slept so much.”
“They gave her painkillers. I’m sure they knocked her out. Plus she has to heal from the accident. She has bumps and bruises. She was lucky.” It could have been a whole lot worse. Or deadly, Malcolm thought grimly.
The driver of the Prius had been interviewed by the police. He had no record of DUIs, had tested negative for alcohol and drugs, and hadn’t had a speeding ticket in nearly a decade. Keira had run into the street without looking and the driver had done the best he could.
“What if we’d lost her?” Alberto asked, raising his troubled gaze to Malcolm’s face. “I don’t think I could take that.”
And there it went—the knife of guilt sliding in over ribs, right to the heart. Malcolm knew the words weren’t meant to be a stab, but he felt the slicing all the same.
“We didn’t lose her.” In a desperate attempt to raise his grandfather’s spirits he said, “We’ll get the DNA tests today.”
Alberto brightened. “Yes, you’re right. I look forward to knowing my other granddaughter will soon be on her way to join us.” His tension eased as his shoulders squared. “You’re right. We were lucky with Keira. She could have been badly hurt and she wasn’t. It’s a sign. Now Callie will join us and our family will be complete.” He smiled at Malcolm. “You’re a good man. I trust you, Malcolm.”
Words that should have made him feel better and didn’t. “I’m going to stay home with Keira this morning, then head to the office in the afternoon.”
Alberto smiled. “She’ll enjoy spending time with you.”
Malcolm had his doubts, but he was committed now. Besides, what had happened at the hospital had shown him how little he knew Keira. She’d been living in the house two months and he barely knew anything about her. Carmen had stepped in to take care of things and he’d let her.
He finished his coffee. As he rose, he gently squeezed his grandfather’s shoulder before heading upstairs. When Malcolm and his mother had first arrived in Seattle, Jerry hadn’t been the least bit interested in having a son, but Alberto had been thrilled to discover he had a grandson. He’d welcomed both into the family home. Jerry had lived elsewhere, something Malcolm later learned to appreciate.
With Alberto, everything was easy. There was plenty of conversation and laughter, warmth and safety. With Jerry—Malcolm shook his head. He couldn’t remember ever spending even a single meal alone with his father. Jerry had been nearly as absent after Malcolm had become a fixture in his life as before. He had no interest in his son and little interest in Alberto.
In contrast, Alberto had wanted to be a part of everything Malcolm did. He’d taken him to the business each week, after school, introducing him to the wonder that was Alberto’s Alfresco. He’d attended parent-teacher evenings and every game when Malcolm had signed up for the soccer team. When Malcolm had lost his mother, Alberto had been the one to hold him while he sobbed out his pain. Jerry hadn’t even come to the funeral.
Years later, after Jerry had died, Malcolm had moved back into the big house on the lake. He knew his grandfather wasn’t getting any younger and wanted to spend time with him while he could.
At the top of the stairs, the landing became a long hallway. To the left was his suite of rooms, to the right were two additional suites. Keira had the corner rooms at the far end, chosen for the big windows and amount of light they let in. Carmen had been worried that a child from sunny Los Angeles would find winter in Seattle too dreary. Malcolm had thought nothing about Keira’s personal space beyond the fact that it was mercifully far from his own.
He liked to think he was inexperienced when it came to children rather than the asshole brother Keira’s phone had proclaimed, but he had a feeling she was more correct than him.
He walked down the hall, then knocked on the partially open door. “It’s Malcolm. May I come in?”
There was a very long pause followed by a soft “Yes.”
Keira lay in the middle of her full-size bed. She looked impossibly small and pale against the lavender linens, her freckles and eyes the only color on her face.
The bed was against the far wall, giving her a view out large windows. She had the corner room. On the second wall of windows were a built-in window seat and a desk. Opposite them were custom bookshelves and a large dresser for storage.
Her suite was the mirror image of his at the opposite end of the house. He knew there was a large second room that had been decorated as a playroom-hanging out space for her and a full bathroom. His second room had been converted into a home office.
Carmen had picked out the furniture and arranged for the remodel and installation. Malcolm had done little beyond nod when shown the color palette she’d chosen. Now he wondered if Keira liked the room or not, because God knew he’d never bothered to ask.
He pulled her desk chair over to the bed and sat down close to her. The untouched breakfast tray sat on her nightstand.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “My head hurts but the painkillers help. I’m going to get up later and walk around. Carmen says I need to get my blood flowing.”
“Makes sense. The plan is for you to stay home until Monday, unless your pediatrician changes things tomorrow. I’ve spoken with your counselor at school. Your assignments are posted online and I’ll pick up the rest of your books later. Everyone agrees you can wait until you feel up to starting on your homework.”
Her blue gaze was steady, her mouth a straight line. “So if I think I’m not ready, I don’t have to do anything?”
“Not for now.”
“Isn’t that ridiculous? What if I say I’m never ready to start studying? How do you know I won’t take advantage? Maybe I’m perfectly fine and should go back to school today.”
He swore silently, realizing once again he was the least equipped person to be dealing with a twelve-year-old kid. He had no idea of what to say or think or how to act. She was a mystery to him, and not a fun one. She looked like their maternal grandmother and enough like Jerry to make him wary, but her personality was all her own.
“Keira, you were hit by a car. I think you get a break for a day or two.” He hesitated. “Do you want to go back to your classes today?”
Tears filled her eyes. For one horrifying second, he thought she was going to start crying, but then she blinked several times and shook her head. “No. I’ll stay home until Monday. But I’ll start doing my homework as soon as my headache goes away.”
Was a headache normal? Should he offer her something? He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Carmen was handling the medications. Better that it stay in the capable hands of one person.
“What about the kitten?”
At first he wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then he remembered the scraggly-looking creature Delaney had carried into the ER.
Delaney—now there was a problem without a solution. He’d done his best to avoid thinking about her, although at some point they were going to have to talk. He owed her. He had no idea what she thought of him, but based on how she’d glared at him while they’d been discussing Keira, she no longer found him the least bit appealing. Not that he cared about her or her opinion, it was only—
“Malcolm!”
What? Oh, right. “The kitten.”
“Yes. I’ve been saving my allowance. I don’t know how much it costs to buy litter and stuff but maybe instead of giving me the money, you could use it to buy food and a scratchy post. Cats need to sharpen their claws.” Her jaw tightened and her chin raised ever so slightly. “Because I’m keeping the kitten.”
He was more taken aback by the gesture than the words. Not that it looked familiar, but because he knew what it felt like to do it, mostly because he did it himself when he was backed into a corner. The gesture was a combination of defiance and bravado—a message to himself and whoever had provoked the sensation of being trapped.
On the heels of that revelation, he was forced to deal with the reality of what her words meant. Keira was concerned about having to pay for a pet. The guilt knife turned a couple more times, reminding him that if there was a way to screw up relationships in his family, he’d probably done each at least twice.
“You’re welcome to keep the kitten—” he began, only to have her interrupt.
“It’s just a kitten. Even cats aren’t that big and I’ll totally take care of her. I’ll put the litter box in the alcove in my playroom and keep her in my rooms. She’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “Like I said, you’re welcome to keep the kitten.”
Her fierceness faded a little. “Oh. Thank you.”
“Tell Carmen what you need and she’ll get it. We’ll have to have it checked out by a vet.”
“Delaney already took her in. She texted me and told me and that she’s a girl and she’s pretty skinny but healthy otherwise. Lizzy is nine or ten weeks old. They think she was just abandoned.” Keira’s mouth trembled. She paused for a second, as if to gather self-control, then continued. “She’ll need vaccinations, though. Do you want my savings for that?”
He didn’t know if he should swear, throw something or take off for Bali. Instead he leaned toward his sister and did his best to look friendly rather than frustrated. “Keira, I will pay for whatever your kitten needs. Food, scratching posts, toys, vaccinations. Just tell Carmen, all right?”
“What if she needs surgery?”
“It’s covered.”
“Good, because she’ll need to be spayed when she’s six months old. It’s the responsible thing to do.”
“I’m glad you know that.”
“What if she needs a heart transplant? They’re expensive. Will you do that?”
He was fairly confident there was no such thing as a feline heart transplant, but that wasn’t the point.
He looked at Keira, meeting her wary gaze, and nodded. “Yes. I will pay for your cat to have a heart transplant.”
She visibly relaxed. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll take good care of Lizzy. I promise.”
“Why Lizzy? Why not Muffin or Fluffy or whatever else it is people call cats?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m twelve, Malcolm, not five. It’s Lizzy for Elizabeth Taylor because she’s beautiful. I know it’s a cliché, but it reminds me of Angelina and I still miss her.”
He was having trouble following the conversation. “Angelina is your friend from Los Angeles. The, ah, person who took you in after you lost your mom?”
“I didn’t lose my mom. She took off and left me and then she overdosed.”
Keira was nothing like the sweet kids who had populated the sitcoms he’d watched when he’d been growing up. “But Angelina is the person who took you in?”
“Yes.”
“And he, ah, she is a transvestite?”
“Transgender. Do you know the difference?”
It was not his world, but he tried to stay relatively current. “Yes. He was born in the wrong body, so on the outside he’s a man but on the inside, she’s a woman.”
Keira looked impressed. “That’s right. Delaney is going to bring Lizzy by tomorrow. She wants to give me another day to rest.”
“Be sure to thank her for her help,” he said, thinking he would have to check with Delaney about the expenses she’d incurred taking care of the cat. “Do you know when she’s coming by?”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to her when you two are finished.” He thought about everything that had happened just over forty-eight hours ago. “She took care of you, went with you to the hospital. Without her, it might have been hours before anyone knew who you were. I want to thank her for all she did.”
“Oh, that’s okay then. She’s coming about three. You’ll still be at work.”
“I’ll come home early.”
Keira looked skeptical but didn’t say anything. Malcolm glanced at her tray.
“You’re not hungry? Do you want Carmen to fix something else?”
Keira reached for a piece of toast. “I’m hungry now. I have to get better so I can take care of Lizzy.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” He rose and returned the chair to the desk. “I’m working from home this morning. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m totally fine, Malcolm. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He nodded and went to his own suite of rooms. Once there, he couldn’t shake her words. She’d told him she was fine the first day he’d met her. He’d wanted to know about her time in foster care and what she needed before they flew up to Seattle. She’d repeated the sentiment when they’d arrived at the house and Carmen had shown her where she would sleep. Keira always said she was fine and except for Lizzy, never asked for anything. Until now, he’d always taken her at her word.
A prickling sensation along the back of his neck had him wondering if instead of assuming all was well, he should probe deeper and find out for himself. Which would mean getting more involved in her life, getting to know her, something that until now, he’d avoided. Not because he didn’t want to care, but because he didn’t want to disappoint. Unfortunately it seemed that was no longer an option.
* * *
Santiago waited for the last quarterly presentation to be finished before wrapping up the meeting. Alberto’s Alfresco had grown 4 percent in the previous quarter, thanks to an increase in prepared dinners. Not just entrées, but curated four-course meals that required the barest of preparation and yielded something even the fussiest of mothers-in-law would appreciate. Every sector was up, except for dried soups and powdered beverages—their sales had been flat, something Santiago hadn’t expected. He was going to have to do some research.
He left the conference room and headed to his corner office. April was still the rainy season in Seattle, but the skies had momentarily cleared, giving him a view of the city. His office faced east—not exactly the prime west, Sound-facing office that Malcolm had—but Santiago didn’t care. He could see the Sound anytime he wanted from his condo and he liked the relative quiet of his corner when he needed to number crunch.
He sat down at his desk and paused for a second, thinking he’d come a long way from the farm worker’s kid he’d been when he’d entered the University of Washington on a football scholarship. He’d barely gotten through high school with a C average—he’d known sports were his only way out and he’d done his best to excel. Football he understood. He didn’t love it the way some of the guys did, but he respected the opportunities it provided and he’d worked the program. Academically, he’d been terrified.
He remembered the first day he’d shown up in his dorm room. His roommate, some skinny kid with a serious expression and expensive luggage, had greeted him with even less enthusiasm than Santiago had felt. Malcolm Carlesso had been quiet, studious and about as much fun as termites. Two days later Santiago had been in the process of requesting a room change when he’d come back from practice to find a bowl of ice sitting in their small freezer. When he’d asked about it, Malcolm had said it was for Santiago’s ice pack for his knee. Malcolm had been going to the communal kitchen anyway and had brought some back.
That simple gesture had been the beginning of a friendship that had lasted over fifteen years so far. Malcolm had helped Santiago realize he was a whole lot smarter than anyone had known. Santiago had taught Malcolm to loosen up and get rid of the stick up his ass. They’d roomed together all through college, even getting an apartment together their senior year.
When Santiago’s mother had lost her job in Yakima, Malcolm had arranged for her to get a job at Alberto’s Alfresco, and the family had moved to Seattle. When Malcolm had wanted to expand the company, he’d hired Santiago away from the hedge fund where he’d been the finance VP. They were a team—no matter what, he had Malcolm’s back and he knew his friend would say the same about him.
Now he sat in front of his computer and pulled up the numbers for the soup and drink division. Something was wrong and he was going to find out what.
But before he’d gotten much past the first layer of numbers, Malcolm walked into his office.
“What did I miss?” his boss asked, taking the visitor’s chair by his desk.
“Nothing much. The quarterly meeting went well. We’re up 4 percent. I’ve emailed you the summary reports, just let me know if you want to get into more detail.”
“Any surprises?”
“Soups and drinks are down. I’m looking into it.”
Malcolm rubbed his forehead. “Thanks. I don’t think I’d be much help right now.”
“You have a lot going on. How’s Keira?”
“Physically? Healing. She sees her doctor tomorrow. As for the rest of it, I have no idea.”
Malcolm was gifted when it came to business and a hell of a good friend, but he was not equipped to deal with a twelve-year-old girl. He wasn’t relaxed around kids and he didn’t trust easily. Whatever progress had been made on that front had been undone by Rachel nearly two years ago, Santiago thought, mentally calling Malcolm’s ex-fiancée every crappy name he could think of.
Malcolm looked at him. “There was a kitten. That’s how she got hit by a car. She saw a kitten and ran into the street. Can you believe it?”
“Yes. It’s something Emma would do in a heartbeat. She’s a kid, Malcolm. It was a kitten. What did you expect? That she would look both ways? She reacted.”
“She could have been killed.”
“Yes, but she wasn’t. She’ll recover and hey, now you have a cat.”
His friend grimaced. “Lucky me. I said she could keep it.”
“Good move.” He leaned forward. “You have to relax around her. Pretend she’s a regular person.”
“Thanks for nothing. She is a regular person.”
“Not to you. You act like she’s an unwelcome life force. Kids are tough. Just let her know you care and you’re there for her.”
“I do care about her. I’m just not sure how to make her believe that.”
“Fake it until you make it.”
Malcolm glared at him. “What does that mean?”
“Pretend interest in whatever floats the boat of a twelve-year-old girl. At first you’ll feel awkward and stupid but over time it will get easier. She’s your sister.”
“There’s another one.”
“Another...”
“Sister.”
Santiago stared at him. “You’re kidding. Like Star Wars? There is another?”
“Not funny and yes. Alberto found out about her the same time he learned about Keira, but he couldn’t locate her.” Malcolm hesitated as if he were going to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “She’s twenty-six and living in Houston. We get the DNA test back today.”
Santiago whistled. “Two new sisters. Any others out there lurking?”
“Not that Jerry knew about. Those were the only two mentioned in his papers.”
“If the DNA test is a match, then what?”
Malcolm looked at him. “Guess.”
“Let’s see. Alberto will fly her out here and move her into the house.”
“Bingo.”
“You’re awash in sisters. That’s nice. I would have liked a sister.”
“Take one of mine.”
Santiago chuckled. “I do great with kids.”
“Yes, you do. It’s annoying.”
“I’m a people person.”
“That you are.”
“You’re better-looking but no one notices because you’re such a tight ass.”
Instead of laughing, Malcolm turned away. “Do you know how Keira had me listed in her phone?”
“What do you mean? She had your name wrong?”
“No.” Malcolm looked at him. “On her contact list, I’m her asshole brother.”
Santiago winced. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. She’s having a tough time making the transition. It’s still all new to her.”
“Yeah, I know.” He rose. “You’re in her contacts, too. Under your real name. Hell of a thing.”
“It’ll get better.”
“You sure?” Malcolm shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out. Thanks for covering the meetings for me.”
“No problem.”
He watched his friend walk away and wished he knew how to fix the problem, or at least mitigate it. Maybe if he talked to Keira or...
No, he told himself. Malcolm had to figure out Keira in his own way. Santiago stepping in to play hero wouldn’t help anyone, or so his brothers had told him about five thousand times.
chapter six (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Delaney had lived in Seattle all her life and still wasn’t the least bit familiar with the area where Keira and Malcolm lived—probably because if the world were separated into haves and have-nots, she would definitely find herself on the side of the latter.
The closer she got to Lake Washington, the larger the homes and lots got until she was pretty sure they were called estates rather than something as pedestrian as houses.
She checked street numbers on mostly closed security gates and was surprised to find herself turning onto a gate-free driveway. The house in front of her was huge—massively tall and wide, with dozens of windows and double front doors that were suited for a modern castle. As she drove along the curved driveway to park in front of the house, she caught sight of the lake beyond.
Lake Washington was a long narrow lake only a couple of miles wide but over twenty miles long. It was beautiful, offered plenty of lakefront living but created a traffic nightmare for the east side of the metropolitan area. Finding one’s way around traffic jams could be challenging when there was a giant lake in the middle of the commute corridors.
Delaney parked by the front door and looked at the carrier in the passenger seat. “You, young lady, have hit the jackpot. This house is going to be quite the kitty playground. You could get lost for days and I mean that in a good way.”
The kitten meowed in response.
Delaney got out of her car. Before she could circle to the trunk and start unloading supplies, the front door opened and an attractive brown-haired woman walked out. She was maybe in her fifties, wearing jeans and a dark green twinset on the cool, cloudy April day.
“You must be Delaney,” the woman said, holding out her hand. “I’m Carmen. I’m Mr. Carlesso’s housekeeper.” Carmen smiled. “That would be the senior Mr. Carlesso. You might have heard Keira called him Grandfather Alberto.”
“Yes, that is what she calls him. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve brought Keira’s kitten. How’s she doing?”
“Much better. She’s still stiff and sore, but she’s moving around and eating.” Carmen’s mouth twisted. “When Malcolm called and told me there’d been an accident, I didn’t know what to think. We were all so frightened. She’s still a little girl and she hasn’t been here very long. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”
At the mention of Malcolm’s name, Delaney felt her stomach tighten. She was still trying to reconcile the sexy, teasing man who bought coffee from her with the cold-eyed brother who knew next to nothing about his own sister. She told herself not to judge, but it was hard not to.
At least she didn’t have to worry about running into him—it was just after three in the afternoon. Malcolm would be at the office. He didn’t strike her as the type to work from home.
“I’m glad she’s better,” Delaney said. “I’m hoping her kitten will cheer her up.”
Carmen laughed. “Lizzy is all she’s talked about. Come on. Let’s get her upstairs.”
Delaney had gone a little crazy at the pet store. In addition to a litter box and some food, she’d bought a bed and plenty of toys.
Delaney stacked the bags of cat litter onto a small, collapsible hand truck Carmen got for her, then put the case of cat food on top of the bags. She slung her tote over her shoulder and grabbed the bed and the bag of toys while Carmen collected the carrier and they went inside.
The foyer was large, soaring up two stories. If she had to guess, she would say the house had been built around the turn of the last century. There was beautifully carved wood everywhere, high ceilings and comfortable furniture. Delaney had a brief impression of a huge living room, a formal dining room and a long hallway before they went into the kitchen. Behind the pantry was an old-fashioned dumbwaiter.
“I don’t use it much,” Carmen said as she opened the door and they loaded the cat litter and food inside. “But it has its moments.”
After she pushed a button, the doors closed and the motor kicked in. Carmen led the way back to the main, curved staircase and they went up to the second floor.
The upstairs dumbwaiter access was in a large linen closet. They stacked the litter bags and cat food on the hand truck before Carmen led the way down a hallway to two sets of double doors. They went to the far set and Carmen knocked once before opening a door and stepping inside.
“Guess who?” she called, her tone cheerful.
Keira raced toward them. “You’re here! Did you bring Lizzy? Is she all right? Does she know I’m going to take good care of her?”
Delaney had only ever seen Keira in her school uniform. Out of the plaid skirt and white shirt, the preteen looked happier and younger. The healing bruise on the side of her face was the only reminder of the accident.
Impulsively Delaney set down her tote and packages and held out her arms. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Keira hesitated only a second before flinging herself at Delaney and hanging on so tight, it was difficult to breathe.
“You scared me,” Delaney whispered. “I was so afraid you were really hurt. You can never do that again!”
“I promise.”
“Good.” Delaney released her and smoothed her hair off her forehead. “You look good. A little battered, but otherwise healthy. Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine. Where’s Lizzy?”
Carmen handed over the carrier. “Here you go, little one. I’ll bring up some hot chocolate and cookies.”
“Thank you,” Keira said as she dropped to her knees and carefully opened the carrier. Her breath caught. “Lizzy, you’re real. I wondered if I dreamed you.”
She picked up the kitten who stretched and yawned before settling in Keira’s arms and meeting her gaze. Delaney sat on the floor next to them.
“She’s pretty friendly. A little skittish, but she’s warmed up over the past couple of days. I don’t think she was feral, but I’m not sure she had a lot of contact with people.”
“Thank you for taking care of her for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to be a really good pet mom. I’ve been looking up stuff online.” She looked at Delaney, her expression serious. “Cats should only have canned food. They don’t have a strong instinct to drink water and dry food gives them kidney problems.” She gently petted Lizzy. “I’m going to clean the litter box twice a day. That’s what the articles say cats like.” Her voice lowered. “I know what it’s like to get used to a strange place, so I’m going to be with her all the time through the weekend. I’m not going back to school until Monday.”
There was so much information in those few sentences that Delaney didn’t know where to begin.
“Why don’t you show me where you want things set up?” she asked. “Have you decided where to put the litter box?”
“In the other room.”
Delaney stood, finally taking her attention from the girl and looking around at her bedroom. It was large, with plenty of windows and lots of light. She pointed to the built-in window seat with a comfortable cushion and lots of pillows.
“Lizzy’s going to love sitting there and watching birds.”
“I know. She can also climb around on my desk if she wants.”
The walls were a pale gray color, the trim was white. The furniture all looked new, which made sense. From what she’d been able to piece together, Keira had been a bit of a surprise.
They carried everything into the adjoining room. It had been decorated as a teen girl haven with two bright pink club chairs, a deep blue sofa and a multicolored upholstered ottoman that acted as a soft coffee table in between. There was an under-counter refrigerator, a big wall-mounted television and plenty of storage. A fun white shag rug sat on top of the more elegant Berber carpet.
Keira pointed to a small alcove near the corner. “There was a dresser here that got moved out. I’ll feed Lizzy on the other side of the room. You’re not supposed to have food and the litter box close together.” She wrinkled her nose. “No one wants to eat in the bathroom.”
It took only a few minutes to get everything set up. Once the litter box was filled and the water bowl put out, Keira set the kitten on the floor, then sat next to her while Lizzy began to sniff and explore.
Delaney split her attention between the girl and the cat. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better. My headache is gone and it doesn’t hurt to read.” She held out her fingers for Lizzy to sniff. The black-and-white kitten rubbed against them and began to purr. “My teachers put my assignments online, so I’ve been keeping up.”
“I have homework, too,” Delaney said. “Biology is hard.”
“Have you done your dissection yet?”
“No. It got postponed. I didn’t ask why because I don’t want to know.”
Keira grinned. “Maybe it’s an inventory issue.”
“Don’t go there. Talk about gross.”
“How are you going to be a doctor if you can’t dissect something that’s been dead like forever?”
“I’m not sure. I’m still working on that problem.”
Leaving the world of finance to become a naturopath had made sense three months ago, but she was starting to have her doubts. She wasn’t sure she was passionate enough to dedicate the next four years of her life to full-time study.
Keira reached for one of the feather-on-a-stick toys and waved it in front of Lizzy. The kitten immediately attacked.
“Have any of your friends been by?” Delaney asked.
Keira looked at her. “No, but we’ve texted. They wanted to know I was okay. I didn’t feel very good until yesterday and now I have Lizzy. I’m fine.”
“I worry about you.”
“I know.” Keira ducked her head.
Delaney wished she could be more sure about her friend. Keira’s home situation was unconventional at best. Not awful, but maybe not as nurturing as it could have been.
“Carmen seems nice.”
“She’s great. She’s fussing over me even more than usual and she’s really excited about Lizzy.”
At least Keira had someone watching over her.
“Okay, I’m going to let you and Lizzy get to know each other,” she said as she stood. “You have my number. Text me if you need anything. Even if it’s just more cat toys. I’m happy to bring them by.”
“I will.”
Keira carefully closed the door behind them so Lizzy wouldn’t get out. Carmen met them on the landing.
“Malcolm would like to speak with you,” she told Delaney. “If you have a minute.”
Delaney’s breath caught. He was home? Why hadn’t someone warned her before now? Not that it mattered, she told herself. She wasn’t sure how she felt about him. Annoyance and maybe a little outrage had replaced attraction.
“Of course,” she said, trying to sound neutral. She hugged Keira goodbye and reminded her to text or call if she needed anything, then followed the housekeeper down the long second-floor hallway.
Carmen knocked once before entering the suite of rooms. Delaney followed and saw his living space was very similar to Keira’s although instead of entering a bedroom, she found herself in a study/home office. There was a comfortable sofa, a good-sized desk and lots of bookcases. A door stood open and she caught sight of a king-size bed with a bathroom beyond. Malcolm looked up from his computer, smiled and rose when he saw her.
“Delaney, I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve wanted to talk to you.”
Carmen excused herself and shut the door as she left. Malcolm motioned to the sofa.
“Please. Have a seat.”
He looked different, she thought. Instead of a suit, he wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. His eyes were dark blue, his jaw firm. Dammit, he looked good and she did not want to be sucked in by that. She hadn’t liked the way he’d been so clueless about his own sister. He wasn’t charming, she reminded herself. She wasn’t the least bit attracted to him.
But sitting only a few feet away on a very comfortable leather sofa, it was difficult not to notice how her chest seemed just a little tight and her nerves were slightly on edge. Annoyance, she reminded herself. With annoyance came energy.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, then handed it to her.
“Before I forget,” he said with a smile. “For the cat supplies.”
“I didn’t spend anywhere close to this.”
One shoulder rose. “You also took care of Lizzy. That can’t have been convenient.” The smile faded as he leaned toward her. “I also want to thank you for being there for Keira. I’m not sure I did at the hospital. Things were happening too fast. We all appreciate that you stayed with Keira until she got to the hospital. She must have been terrified. You were a comforting presence. Thank you.”
He seemed so genuine, so caring, she thought, more than a little perplexed. What had happened to the cold stranger who knew almost nothing about his sister?
“I’m confused,” she admitted. “At the hospital you were so distant and, um, stern.”
“The asshole brother?” he asked drily.
“Something like that.”
He sighed. “Yeah, it’s been hard with Keira.”
“She’s a good kid.” Delaney had a feeling her tone sounded fairly defensive.
“She is. I was talking more about myself than her. I’m not exactly a kid person.”
“She really just showed up two months ago?”
“Uh-huh. My father died a couple of years ago.” He hesitated. “There wasn’t a will so everything went to my grandfather and me. Around the first of the year, Alberto decided to get Jerry’s papers in order. He found information about two daughters no one knew about.”
He looked at her. “I should backtrack a little. My father was a salesman for the company and traveled all over. Apparently he liked women and they liked him. The three of us are the result of various relationships he had. Jerry wasn’t interested in his children or paying regular child support. I didn’t meet him until my mother brought me here when I was twelve. Alberto welcomed me right away, but Jerry resisted the connection. He and I were never close. I didn’t actually know him very well at all.”
There was something about the way he said the words, she thought. As if there was more to the story.
“Where’s the other sister?” she asked instead.
“Arriving tomorrow. That’s going to be interesting. She’s older—twenty-six. I don’t know that much about her. Keira was easier to locate. As she told you, she’d been living in foster care. Once we established paternity, I went and got her. She’s lived here ever since.”
She couldn’t imagine finding out about a sibling after so many years. Maybe Malcolm wasn’t as awful as she’d feared. Maybe he was just unprepared.
“And now what?” she asked.
“Now we make it work.” He raised a shoulder. “What I mean is I make it work. The accident showed me I haven’t been involved enough in Keira’s life. She seems to have it all together, but the truth is she’s a kid. I was her age when my mom brought me here. I remember how lost I felt and I had my mother with me. She might feel as if she doesn’t have anyone and that’s not right.”
Delaney relaxed a little more. “It’s her air of competence. It’s a great disguise, but you’re right. She’s just twelve. She needs to know people care about her and that this is her home. Having Lizzy will help.”
“I know nothing about cats.”
“Keira’s been doing research on the internet. You can ask her all about it.”
“I will.”
They smiled at each other. Tension seemed to swirl between them—the boy-girl kind, which was kind of nice and strange, all at the same time. Or maybe not. Maybe she was the only one feeling it and wouldn’t that be both awkward and pathetic?
What was wrong with her? He was just a guy. Except she knew the problem—there hadn’t been anyone since Tim and before Tim, she’d been a kid. All she knew about men and love and dating had been learned with Tim. What if they’d done it all wrong?
“Delaney?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. I got distracted by something. What were you saying?”
“That I owe you.”
If only, she thought wistfully. “Not really. I like Keira. Helping out with her was easy.”
“Still. I’d offer to buy you coffee but that wouldn’t be very exciting for you. How about dinner?”
D-dinner? As in...dinner?
She felt herself flushing and hoped her light makeup kept him from being able to tell. “That would be nice,” she said, trying to sound casual, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.
“How about Saturday night? If you’re available.”
“Saturday would be perfect.”
They agreed on the Metropolitan Grill at seven. Malcolm said he would make reservations.
“I look forward to it,” he told her as he walked out of his room and down the stairs. “Do you want me to pick you up or meet you there?”
“I’ll meet you there,” she murmured, thinking it would be too uncomfortable to have him pick her up. Too much like a date. Not that it was a date. Or maybe it was, she wasn’t sure. Nor would she ask. It was a step forward, she told herself. Right now that was enough.
At the front door, she turned and said, “Keira said she’s going back to school on Monday. Please tell her I look forward to seeing her that morning.”
“I will.” He lightly touched her arm. “You were right at the hospital. I should tell her goodbye, because it’s the little things, right?”
“It is. I’ll see you Saturday.”
He smiled. “You will. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too.”
She managed to get to her car without stumbling or shrieking or grinning like a fool, then started the engine and sedately drove down the long driveway. It was only when she was on the main road heading for home that she allowed herself a small shriek and a little shimmy in her seat before settling in for a long internal discussion about what on earth she was going to wear.
chapter seven (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Callie planned to work on not feeling terrified just as soon as she stopped shaking. She supposed she should give herself a break—so much had happened so fast. Monday she’d been approached by a lawyer about her late father and some mystery family that wanted to meet her. Wednesday she’d heard from Shari on the results of the DNA test. They’d met and Callie had gotten a plane ticket to Seattle. Here it was Friday morning and she was on her way to a city she’d never been to so she could meet a family she knew nothing about.
Shari had been great—taking plenty of time to talk through the details. The family wanted Callie to relocate to Seattle. Callie hadn’t known what to do, but in the end she’d decided to quit both her jobs and pack up her meager belongings and fly west.
Disrupting her life had been uncomfortably simple. Janice had been sad but understanding. At her cleaning job, her supervisor had barely said anything beyond “Good luck.” Callie rented her room furnished, so she didn’t have to worry about getting rid of anything big and she paid month to month, so there wasn’t even a lease. A quick trip to the local thrift store had produced a second battered suitcase. In a matter of an hour, she’d uprooted her life.
Now at the airport gate, she tried to look as if she knew what she was doing. She’d never flown before. Until a couple of years ago, she’d never been outside Oklahoma. She’d ridden the bus to Houston and hadn’t ever taken a vacation anywhere. It wasn’t as if being in prison came with field trips. She was so unprepared, she thought, wondering if it was too late to bolt.
The morning had started with a town car arriving to take her to the airport. Shari had said everything was paid for but had suggested Callie might want to tip the drivers on each end. She had no idea how much, so had handed the older guy ten dollars. She wasn’t supposed to tip anyone on the plane, was she? She’d read a couple of articles online and none of them had mentioned that.
The gate agent started the boarding process. Callie checked the seat number on her boarding pass again. It hadn’t changed. She was in seat 3A. According to what she’d found out from her research, that could mean she was in first class. But how was that possible? Who would be ridiculous enough to pay extra to get her to Seattle? She would arrive at exactly the same time flying in the back of the plane. Still, when the agent said first class was boarding, Callie slowly walked up and handed over her boarding pass.
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Smith,” the young woman said with a smile. “Have a great flight.”
Callie nodded without speaking and started down the long, sloping hallway. As she got closer to the plane, her shaking increased. She couldn’t do this, she thought frantically. She could not get on that flying coffin. They were all going to die.
At least then you won’t have to deal with meeting your family.
The voice and the words came so unexpectedly, she laughed out loud. Her tension eased and she stepped onto the plane.
She figured out the numbering system and found her seat, then watched everyone else get on board. Her seatmate was a well-dressed, middle-aged woman who gave her an absent smile before pulling out a stack of fashion and gossip magazines and starting to read. Callie tried not to notice how threadbare her long-sleeved T-shirt looked next to the other woman’s expensive knit jacket. The woman’s wedding band was a row of diamonds and the center stone on her engagement ring was huge.
Once the plane was loaded, the flight attendants started the safety announcements. Callie checked her seat belt about sixteen times, then listened to every word of the safety demonstration. Before she was ready, the plane was racing toward certain death only to unexpectedly take off into the air.
She gripped both armrests, digging in her fingers until her knuckles went white, but the plane didn’t plummet. Instead it went higher and higher, causing her ears to pop a little and the earth to seem to fall away.
“What can I get you two ladies to drink?”
Callie turned and saw the flight attendant standing by their row. The woman next to her ordered a glass of white wine. Callie asked for water.
“We’ll be serving lunch today. A chicken pasta salad. Would either of you like to join us?”
The other woman nodded. Callie said she would like lunch, then wondered if she had to pay for it. All the articles she’d read had sworn first class tickets got a free meal, but she wasn’t sure. Still, she’d taken a hundred dollars out of the bank, so she had cash with her, and her ATM card. She didn’t own a credit card. They’d always seemed too risky.
The flight attendant returned with their drinks. A few minutes later, the captain came on the loudspeaker and gave them the details of the flight. Callie couldn’t believe they would get from Houston to Seattle in only four and a half hours. It took almost that long just to drive to Dallas!
The woman next to her finished her InStyle magazine and offered it to Callie. “If you haven’t read this one...”
Callie looked from the magazine to her, then smiled. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
She smoothed the front of the cover, trying to remember the last time she’d read a new magazine. In prison she’d spent her free time reading books and studying for her GED. Her conviction had interrupted her senior year. Once she was out, she hadn’t had the extra money for something so frivolous. Now she leaned back in her seat and opened the magazine to the first page. It was an ad for hair color. She studied the glossy photograph, read all the text, and wondered if she would ever get to feel normal again and take things like magazines for granted.
* * *
Four hours and forty-two minutes after they had pushed back from the gate in Houston, their plane arrived in Seattle. Callie pulled her backpack from under the seat in front of her and waited to walk out into a scary and unknown future. In that brief moment as she stepped onto the Jetway, she felt the cool damp air and shivered slightly. Her light jacket was nowhere warm enough for whatever the temperature was outside.
She followed the signs to baggage claim and took a steep escalator down two floors. As she stepped off, she saw several men in suits holding paper signs or iPads with names on them. Shari had told her car service would be provided in Seattle, so Callie looked at several of them before spotting one that said C. Smith.
She walked over to the driver. “I’m Callie Smith.”
The older man smiled at her. “Nice to meet you. I’m Hal. Do you have checked luggage?”
“Two bags.”
He led the way to the carousel. “Coming home from a trip or visiting?” he asked.
“Visiting. My first time in the city.”
“It’s been raining, which is pretty typical for this time of year.” He chuckled. “Or any time of the year, except for summer. Never come here in late July and think it’s going to be that nice all the time. And when they say it’s just a light misty rain, they’re lying. It rains a lot.”
The suitcases began to appear. Callie couldn’t believe how quickly they moved on the conveyor belt, going in a huge oval. She spotted hers fairly quickly—mostly because they were so shabby. She pointed them out to Hal, who collected them. Then they took the escalator up one floor and started for the parking garage.
The second they stepped out of the airport, Callie began to shiver. It wasn’t that it was all that cold—although it was—what she really noticed was the dampness. It was as if the chill could get right inside her body.
Hal walked briskly along a skybridge toward the parking garage. He bypassed a pay station and a bank of elevators, then they went down another escalator to where there were rows and rows of large black SUVs and town cars. Hal led her to an SUV and held open the back door. She slid inside.
They drove onto a freeway and headed for the city.
“I’ll point out a few things as we drive,” Hal told her. “You’ll see the Seattle skyline in a few minutes. We’re on the wrong side for you to see the Space Needle—that’s north of downtown. See that tall, black high-rise?”
She peered out the front window. “Uh-huh.”
“That’s the Columbia Center. It’s seventy stories high. People around here joke it’s the box the Space Needle shipped in.” He chuckled. “All right, little lady, there on your left is Safeco Field—home of the Seattle Mariners. Right next to it is CenturyLink Field, where the Seahawks play. Go Hawks!”
Callie smiled. No point in mentioning she wasn’t that into sports. She figured it was a guy thing.
After a few more minutes, they got off the freeway and entered a residential neighborhood. She was relieved to see average-looking homes with pretty yards. The rain had stopped, leaving gray skies. The car thermometer said it was forty-seven outside. How was that possible? It was April!
Hal turned and drove and turned some more. The houses got bigger and farther apart and Callie’s nerves returned. They made another turn.
“Look out the passenger window,” Hal told her. “You should catch a glimpse of Lake Washington. This is a real nice neighborhood. Who did you say you were visiting?”
“Some, ah, friends.”
He winked at her. “Friends with money. The best kind.”
Sooner than she would have liked, they turned down a long driveway. Hal stopped in front of a huge, three-story house that looked bigger than a hotel. Callie wanted to crawl under the seat and never be seen, but it was too late. Hal had already opened her door and was taking out her suitcases.
She grabbed her backpack and stepped onto the wet driveway. She pulled ten dollars from her front jeans pocket and offered it to him.
I can’t do this. Please take me back to the airport. But what she said instead was, “Thank you, Hal.”
“You’re welcome, young lady.”
The front doors opened and a brown-haired woman in her fifties smiled at her. “Callie? I’m Carmen, the family housekeeper. Welcome to Seattle.”
Carmen insisted on carrying one of the suitcases. Callie had a brief impression of a giant foyer with a two-story ceiling and lots of rooms filled with expensive-looking furniture. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the fact that she couldn’t breathe or stop shaking. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here. So what if they were family—she wasn’t one of them.
Before she could bolt, Carmen grabbed her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Alberto is so happy you’re here. He’s been waiting to find you.” She hesitated. “Your grandfather is a wonderful man. I hope you’ll grow to love him.”
Callie had no idea what to say to that.
“This way,” Carmen said.
They left the suitcases by the front door and walked by the wide, curved staircase, then down a hall and another hall. There was a turn and maybe a couple of bridges and a mountain, or so it felt. Finally they arrived at a book-lined study. An old, old man in a gray suit looked up from his book.
“Oh, Carmen, she is as beautiful as I imagined.” He stood and smiled. “Callie, at last. Welcome, child. Welcome to your home.”
He was taller than she’d expected—close to six feet—and despite his age, still handsome. She could see traces of the younger man he had once been. He looked strong and healthy and way too excited to see her.
“Mr. Carlesso,” she began, but he stopped her with a quick shake of his head.
“Grandfather Alberto,” he told her. “Or just Alberto if you’re not comfortable thinking of me as your grandfather just yet.”
He motioned to the sofa. “Come. Sit. We’ll get to know each other.”
She moved closer and sat on the sofa, as far from him as she could. He sank down, then poured them each a cup of coffee from the tray in front of him. Carmen smiled and left.
He handed her coffee and held out a plate of cookies. “Biscotti,” he said. “We make them here, in the city. It’s an old family recipe. They’re one of our best sellers.”
She looked at the weird cookie, then watched as he dunked it in the coffee before taking a bite.
“Best seller?” she asked.
“Alberto’s Alfresco. It’s the family company. I started it many years ago. We sell food and drink all over the world.”
She stared at him. “You mean the catalog company?” Of course she’d heard of them—probably on TV or something. Everyone had. They were an upscale company that sold delicious Italian food. “That’s you? I mean you’re that Alberto?”
“I am. You are, as well.” His gaze settled on her face. “You look just like my late wife. She was so beautiful. It’s been thirty years and I still miss her.” He smiled. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. You were not easy to find.”
Callie didn’t know what to say to that. Too much was happening too fast. She sipped her coffee and ignored her biscotti, all the while trying to get her breathing under control.
“How was your trip?” Alberto asked.
“Good. I’ve never flown before. It was different than I thought it was going to be. Everyone was very nice.”
Alberto’s expression was kind. “So much to get used to. I must remember that. If I move too fast, as you young people say, tell me. The lawyer said she told you about your father.”
“That he’s, ah, no longer with us?”
Alberto nodded. “Yes. It’s unfortunate. He was difficult at times, but still my son. And he gave me you and your siblings. Let’s see, there’s Malcolm. He’s a few years older than you, and Keira who is only twelve. We only found out about you girls a few months ago.”
“Shari, your lawyer, mentioned that.” She didn’t know much about her father but what she did know wasn’t very promising. Not that she was going to have to deal with him but still there were—
A man walked into the study. He was tall and looked enough like his grandfather for her to guess the relationship. Unlike Alberto, his eyes were not kind...or welcoming. If anything, he seemed resigned.
“Hello, Callie,” he said as he approached. “I’m your half brother, Malcolm.”
She didn’t know what to do. Stand? Sit and smile tightly? Run?
“Hi,” she said quietly. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
Like Alberto, he wore a suit and tie. If she’d seen him on the street, she would have assumed he was rich and successful and gone out of her way to avoid him.
Malcolm took a seat across from them and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I’m sure this is all overwhelming.”
“A little.”
“You can take as much time as you’d like to get settled. There’s a lot to explore.”
Alberto patted her hand. “Seattle is a beautiful city. You’ll want to see it and we’ll show you around the company, of course. The executive offices are very nice, but you should see the factory where we create our magic.”
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Keira is so excited to meet you,” Alberto continued. “She’s very happy to have a sister.”
Malcolm surprised her by grinning. “Yes, she’s made it clear that she would not welcome another brother. My fault, I’m afraid.” His smile faded. “Did you leave anything behind in Houston?”
The question was so vague, she didn’t know if he was referring to a job, a boyfriend, a dog or an apartment.
“I didn’t know what was happening,” she admitted. “I thought it was easier to make a clean break.” She supposed that if things didn’t work out here, she could always go somewhere else. There was nothing to return to in Texas.
“Good.” Malcolm rose. “Why don’t I show you to your room? Dinner is at six thirty and I’m sure you’ll want to take a little time to settle before then.”
She set down her coffee. Alberto rose, put his hands on her shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. “Welcome, my beautiful granddaughter. We are your family now. Always we will be here for you.”
His words sounded genuine. She saw tears in his eyes and felt the ice wall around her heart melting just a little. Then she turned and met Malcolm’s wary gaze. Maybe she was wrong but it seemed to her not everyone was thrilled by her arrival. If she had to guess, she would say Malcolm wasn’t happy to have a felon in the family. All things being equal, who could blame him? Certainly not her.
* * *
Malcolm left Callie to get settled, then walked the few feet to Keira’s door. His sister had been after him all day to let her know the second Callie arrived.
Just before he knocked, he paused to remember the awkward trip he’d taken down to Los Angeles when he’d gone to get Keira. He’d had no idea how to deal with a twelve-year-old, nor had he known what she would be like. He’d filled a backpack with snacks, an iPad loaded with games and a couple of Disney movies, headphones, and an activity book with puzzles and easy crosswords.
Keira had been waiting at her social worker’s office. Everything she owned had fit into a battered old-fashioned hatbox decorated with pictures of landmarks from around the world. She’d been wide-eyed, thin and silent as they’d been introduced.
He hadn’t known what to say beyond explaining he was her half brother, that she had a grandfather and that he was taking her to live with him in Seattle. He promised her her own room and a good school. At the end of his awkwardly stilted speech, she’d simply picked up her hatbox and looked at him as if waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
He should have done more, he thought nearly three months after the fact. He couldn’t say what, but he should have tried harder. They’d barely spoken on the two-and-a-half-hour flight. Maybe she’d been scared or nervous or hungry. But he’d only asked if she needed anything and when she’d said no, he’d believed her.
He remembered taking her to the airport gift shop and buying her a sweatshirt so she wouldn’t be cold, but he’d done little else to make her feel comfortable or safe. He swore silently—couldn’t he have offered her a candy bar or some chips? Something to show she was more than a chore he had to finish?
He thought about her phone. Asshole brother. He didn’t want to be that. Whether or not he’d gone looking for more family wasn’t the point. She was a kid and totally alone in the world. The least he could do was suck it up and give her some attention. So what if he was bad at it—at least he had to try.
He knocked on her door. She flung it open instantly as if she’d been waiting for him.
“Is she here? Is she here? What is she like? Does she look like me? Is she nice? Will I like her?”
Malcolm smiled. “You’ve been saving up those questions, haven’t you?”
Keira danced from foot to foot. “Yes, now tell meeeee!”
He studied his younger sister. According to her pediatrician, she was about average height, slightly underweight and perfectly healthy. Her hair was light brown, her eyes blue and Carmen had said more than once he and Keira shared the same smile.
“She has your freckles,” he told Keira.
She laughed, then ran to the mirror and stared at herself. “Really? All of them? I can’t decide if I like my freckles or not.”
He almost pointed out her opinion on her freckles didn’t matter—it wasn’t as if they were going away—but stopped himself in time.
“They’re cute,” he told her. “On you and on Callie.”
Keira spun to face him and beamed. “Really? I can’t wait to meet her. And I want to see her room.”
“Give her a couple of hours to get settled,” he said, repeating what they’d discussed the previous night at dinner. “We don’t want to overwhelm her. You’ll meet her at dinner. As to her room, you saw it yesterday, when everything was delivered.”
Keira gave him a look that implied he was incredibly stupid but she would indulge him this one time. She crossed to the bed and scooped up the kitten sitting there. “Maybe she’s scared. Maybe she needs a friend.”
“Maybe she’s tired from her trip and would like a few minutes before she has to deal with the whole family.”
“There’s only three of us, plus Carmen. That’s not a lot.”
“It might be to her.”
From what he’d read in the report on Callie, since getting out of prison, she’d lived a quiet life. She’d stayed in a halfway house for nearly nine months before moving to Houston. She worked her two jobs, volunteered at a cat shelter once a week and lived in a rented room. She didn’t seem to have many friends or much of a social life. As for what had gotten her arrested in the first place, from how she’d lived the last five years, that had been a one-time thing.
Keira sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll wait until dinner.”
“Good. You seem to be feeling better. You have a lot of energy.”
“I’m excited. This is so fun. We have a new sister. I could barely sleep last night. Aren’t you excited?”
“Very,” he lied. He didn’t care about the trust fund his grandfather would set up for Callie or the potential division of the business. He already had enough. It was more that all these years later, he was still dealing with his father’s shit. When was it finally going to end?
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he told Keira. “Until then, leave Callie alone.”
Keira batted her eyes at him. “I wouldn’t think of doing anything else.”
chapter eight (#u3d8ccde5-67ec-5c12-9000-a4f15836f45a)
Callie stood in the center of her two-room suite, not sure what to think about any of it. Her head hurt, the world seemed to be spinning and she honestly couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Before she could catch her breath or figure out if she wanted to faint, Carmen appeared, a tray in her hands.
“You must be tired from your flight,” she said with a gentle smile. “And maybe overwhelmed. I brought you a snack to tide you over until dinner.”
She set the tray on the dark gray tufted ottoman at the foot of the queen-size bed. “Let me show you around the room, then I’ll leave you to get settled.”
Callie could only nod. Speaking seemed impossible, as did making sense of any of this.
“I only had a few days to get your room ready,” Carmen said. “If you want to make changes, go ahead. I have no idea if you like my taste or not.”
The bedroom was huge, maybe twenty by twenty, with big floor-to-ceiling windows. The walls were cream except for the dark gray wall behind the bed. The head and footboards were upholstered in cream, the bedspread was the same color with a woven gold pattern in the center. The cream-and-gold color theme continued with a fuzzy cream rug. Dark wood accents—the dresser, the legs of the ottoman and the chair in the corner—added contrast. The nightstands were mirrored with glass-based lamps.
Callie had never been in a five-star hotel in her life. Come to think of it, she’d only ever stayed at a Quality Inn, her first two nights in Houston, but if she had to guess, she would say this was what a five-star hotel room looked like.
Carmen showed her the big bathroom with a long vanity and a separate tub and walk-in shower. There was a closet nearly the size of her rented room and a second room attached to the first.
“Malcolm uses his spare room as an office,” Carmen told her. “I set up Keira’s as a living space.” She smiled. “I went brighter with her colors. Again, if you want to change any of this, please let me know.”
The color theme continued. There were two sofas and a chair, all upholstered in cream, another tufted ottoman, plenty of small tables, floor lamps and a fun faux-fur throw rug done in a gold-and-white zebra print.
“I’m overwhelmed,” Callie admitted. “Thank you so much for all of this.”
“You’re welcome.” Carmen pointed to her right. “Keira’s room is next to yours.” She waved toward the left. “Malcolm’s room is beyond the staircase. Your grandfather sleeps on the first floor. The stairs are more difficult for him these days. I have a suite of rooms on the third floor. Please make yourself comfortable, explore the house. You’re welcome in the kitchen anytime you’d like. I keep a running grocery list. Just tell me what you’d like and I’ll get it.”
“I’ll do that,” Callie promised as her head began to throb. She just wanted to be alone and try to figure out how to process all of it.
“Then I’ll leave you to get settled. Dinner is at six thirty. Just come downstairs and turn right.” She paused. “Your grandfather is very happy you’re here.”
Good to know, Callie thought, not sure how she felt about her new circumstances, but determined to be polite. She followed Carmen to the hallway and thanked her again before shutting the bedroom door. She felt her legs start to give way but forced herself to keep moving. She sat on the bed, then turned on the nightstand lamps before checking out the tray Carmen had brought only to be overwhelmed once again.
There was a large antipasto plate filled with slices of several kinds of cheese and meat. There were olives and almonds and walnuts, mushrooms and cherry tomatoes. Crusty rolls sat on a smaller plate next to a ramekin of butter. A third plate contained a half dozen different kinds of cookies. S-shaped and pinwheels, frosted lemon drop cookies and chocolate-dipped butter cookies.
Even as her stomach growled, she honestly wasn’t sure she could eat a bite. Not with her whole body fighting the need to bolt.
She ignored the food but sipped the tea as she checked out the big closet and saw there were more drawers there, along with built-in shelves and racks for her shoes. Back in the bedroom she found the remote for the television on the dresser, then walked into the huge bathroom.

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