Читать книгу The Wrong Woman - Linda Warren, Linda Warren - Страница 8

DRIVING HOME, Ethan couldn’t get the redhead out of his mind. Was she an expert liar or was something else going on? The woman of the night before was afraid and had a hard edge that suggested she’d been living a rough lifestyle. He recognized that immediately. The woman today was a complete contradiction. She was softer and had a veneer and polish that came with wealth and privilege. If she was stripping against her will, that would account for the fear he’d seen yesterday, but it didn’t explain the hardness. What was the woman’s secret?

As he drove across the cattle guard, dust spiraled behind him. He was home in Junction Flat, Texas, a small ranching community of less than a thousand near San Antonio. There was a saying in Junction Flat: “Don’t let the mesquite, the cactus and the rattlesnakes get to you. Junction Flat is a good place to live.” And it was—this was where Ethan had always gone when things got too hard, and he planned on staying here for the rest of his life.

A few years ago Pop had given the ranch to his three children, with the stipulation that he be able to live on the property until his death. Molly and Travis didn’t have any interest in ranching and sold their shares to Ethan. So the entire ranch now belonged to Ethan, and he was content living out his retirement in his quiet, rustic hometown.

Before he drove around back to the garage, he noticed Bruce’s Mercedes parked in front of the white sandstone house. He frowned, wondering why his ex-brother-in-law was here. Since the divorce, which was finalized two months ago, Bruce and Molly hadn’t spoken, as far as he knew. There was only one reason Bruce would come out here and face everyone—Cole, his seventeen-year-old son.

When he climbed out of his truck and walked toward the house, he heard raised voices. As soon as he entered the kitchen, everyone grew quiet. Pop was holding Molly, who was sobbing into his chest. Cole was screaming at his father, “Get out and leave us alone!” When he saw Ethan, he said, “Make him leave, Uncle Ethan!”

“Son, I just want to talk to you,” Bruce begged.

“I never want to speak to you again.” With that, Cole turned and stormed out the back door.

Ethan took a long breath. Bruce had a right to see his son, but Cole had refused to see or talk to Bruce since he’d found out about his father’s betrayal. His mother’s pain had only increased the boy’s feelings. The situation was volatile and emotions still ran high. It was time for everyone to cool off.

Ethan looked at Bruce. “I think you’d better go,” he said firmly. He walked to the front door and held it open.

Bruce’s features tightened and Ethan could see he was undecided, but at last made a sound of exasperation and headed for the front door. Ethan followed him out onto the long veranda

“Ethan, I want to talk to my son.” Bruce shoved a hand through his blond hair. His eyes were green like Cole’s.

As much as Ethan hated what Bruce had done to Molly, he understood his desire to see Cole. Cole was the innocent victim in Bruce and Molly’s divorce, and neither seemed willing to make it easier for him.

“He just needs some time,” was the only thing Ethan could think of to say.

“Molly’s turned him against me.”

“Don’t lay that at Molly’s feet,” Ethan told him, although he knew it was partly true. “You’re the reason Cole’s upset. He’s old enough to know what’s going on.”

“You’re a man, Ethan. I thought you’d understand.”

Ethan grunted in disgust. “I understand that a twenty-year-old is more attractive than the thirty-five-year-old mother of your child.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bruce denied.

“Who are you trying to kid?”

“Molly and I were having problems. You knew that. Hell, everyone knew, but Molly chose to ignore them. She wouldn’t listen to me and I got tired of banging my head against that rock-solid pride of hers.”

Ethan had been away during the early years of Bruce and Molly’s marriage, but since he’d settled in Junction Flat five years ago, he’d become aware of the tension between Molly and Bruce. Last year things had intensified, and Molly had stayed at the ranch some nights because she and Bruce had argued. Bruce worked all the time, she complained, while he said Molly was too involved with Cole’s school. Cole was on various sports teams and Molly never missed a game. Bruce attended as many as he could, but he was often out of town. Another issue between them was that Molly volunteered for anything and everything, even though Bruce had asked her not to. Then, when Bruce was home, he liked to go to the club and play golf. Another problem. Molly hated golf. Their spats never lasted long and by the next morning they always made up. Ethan was careful to stay out of their affairs. He did support his sister, though.

“I don’t want to hear this about Molly,” he said in a warning tone.

“Your sister’s not an easy person to live with.”

“Oh, but she was an easy person to support you while you went to law school. Easy for her to do your cooking and laundry and raise your son.”

“I don’t want to get into it with you, Ethan.”

“Then don’t talk as if Molly’s to blame for all this. You made the choice here.”

“Ethan.” Bruce sighed bleakly. “I can’t lose my son. I can’t.”

The pain in Bruce’s voice touched Ethan, even though he didn’t want it to. He understood a man’s love for his son.

“Cole is seventeen. He’s a kid, yet he’s almost a man. Give him some time and space. Don’t pressure him, Bruce. That’s the only advice I can give you.”

“Ethan—”

Ethan held up a hand when he sensed that Bruce was about to tell him things he didn’t want to hear. “Molly is my sister and I’m on her side. What you did was unconscionable and I can’t condone it. You hurt the two people who loved you the most. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened, then he glanced toward the corral, where Cole was saddling a horse. As Cole swung into the saddle and set off at a gallop for the woods, Bruce nodded and walked to his car.

ETHAN WENT BACK into the house. Pop was sitting on the sofa with his face in his hands.

“Pop, are you okay?” he asked.

Walt Ramsey raised his head. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah. Where’s Molly?”

“In her room. Every time she sees him, she screams and cries and comes apart at the seams. I don’t know who she is when she acts like that, and I don’t know how to help her.”

At the distress in his father’s voice, Ethan sat beside him. “It’ll get better.”

“I don’t know, son. She’s loved him since she was ten years old. She can’t forget all those years of loving.”

Molly and Bruce had met in fifth grade. When Molly graduated from high school, she was pregnant, and she and Bruce had married soon after. Bruce went to college, then law school, and Molly had worked to support them. She had shouldered the financial responsibility for a lot of years, and now that Bruce was a lawyer and making good money, he’d traded her in for a newer model. At least that was the way Molly put it. She’d never suspected he was sleeping with his new receptionist. The whole sordid mess had devastated Molly…and Cole, too.

“We just have to be here for her.”

“I could kill that bastard with my bare hands.”

That was the sentiment of everyone in the Ramsey family, and Ethan found it difficult at times to control his temper with Bruce, but his ethics prevented him from doing anything stupid. Besides, he knew there was always another side, even if he preferred to ignore it. Family was family, after all, and had to come first. Most importantly, Bruce was Cole’s father, and that one fact kept Ethan grounded enough to have a normal conversation with the man.

“Did you see Travis?”

Ethan looked at his father. “How did you guess I went to see Travis?”

“I know you, son, and you’re doing everything you can for Molly.”

“Yeah, but nothing’s working.”

“So is he still playing in bars and honky-tonks?”

Ethan rubbed his hands together. “He’s still playing in a band, if that’s what you’re asking. He has a steady job with a construction company, but he’s never going to give up his music.”

Pop climbed to his feet. “Got that from your mom’s side of the family. They were always playing and singing somewhere, then the worthless lot wanted me to feed ’em.” He shook his head. “A man should make an honest living for his family. Work hard and forget about havin’ a good time.”

Ethan stood up, too, knowing he had to say something that wasn’t easy. “That’s your way, Pop, but Travis has his own way. That doesn’t mean you’re right and he’s wrong. It just means you’re different, and we have to accept that.”

Pop opened his mouth to object and Ethan stopped him. “Travis is coming home next weekend. For Molly’s sake, I want peace in this house. And a little laughing, playing and singing wouldn’t hurt.”

Pop clamped his lips together, then said, “I’d better check on Cole,” and walked out.

“He’s ridden off into the woods,” Ethan called.

“I’ll find him,” Pop muttered. The back door slammed behind him.

Ethan sighed. Did old wounds ever heal? He could only hope so. Well, next weekend would have to be a start. He headed toward Molly’s room, then spotted her in the kitchen.

There were groceries on the table, and she was putting milk and juice in the refrigerator. He was trying to think of the right words to ease her pain, but when it came to his sister, he was never very successful. These days, Molly was like a keg of dynamite just waiting for someone to light the fuse, so unlike the smiling, easygoing woman she’d once been. He had to be very careful.

With her petite frame, short brown hair and brown eyes, Molly looked much younger than her thirty-five years, and it angered him to think of what Bruce had done to her confidence and self-control.

“How are you, sis?” he murmured as he poured a cup of coffee.

Instead of answering, she asked, “Do you know why he came here?”

“To see Cole.” He sat at the table and wrapped his hands around the mug.

“Yeah, that’s the excuse he used, but he really came to tell Cole he and that teenybopper have set a wedding date. They’re having a big wedding and he wants Cole to be in it. Can you imagine? Now I know he’s lost his mind.”

Ethan didn’t comment or he’d explode with the absurdity of it all. He was worried about Molly. Bruce was all she ever talked about, and Ethan realized she was never going to get over his betrayal without a lot of help.

“Sit down,” he said. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”

“Sure.” She grabbed a diet drink out of the refrigerator and opened it. Sitting down, she asked, “Have you heard something about the wedding?”

“No,” he answered, cradling his cup.

“Good,” Molly replied, tapping her fingers on the table. “He’s got some nerve coming out here. It’s one thing hurting me, but it’s another when he hurts Cole like this. Rumors will be flying all over Junction Flat and San Antonio. We’ll never be able to live this down.”

He reached for her hand. “Molly, you have to stop thinking about Bruce and this girl. He’s made his decision. Now you have to get on with your life.”

She stared down at their hands. “I can’t.”

He knew that. She couldn’t let go of seventeen years of marriage and she couldn’t let go of Bruce. But she had to, and she had to understand what all this was doing to her son.

He cleared his throat. “I want to talk about Cole.”

She glanced up. “What about Cole?”

“Can’t you see how miserable he is?”

“Yes.” She smoothed the Coke can with her thumb. “I don’t know how Bruce can do this to him.”

There was silence for a moment, then Ethan said, “You’re hurting him, too.”

Molly’s head jerked up. “What!”

“Right now Cole’s resentment at his father’s betrayal is feeding off your anger and pain. He can’t move beyond that.”

“That’s Bruce’s fault, not mine,” Molly put in quickly.

“So instead of helping Cole deal with this, you’d rather see him torn apart?”

Molly jumped to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she said angrily.

Ethan caught her arm before she could walk away. “Molly, Bruce is Cole’s father. You can’t change that, and you have to realize that Cole’s gonna have a part in his life.”

“No!” Molly shook her head wildly. “I don’t want Cole near that…that woman.”

“Oh, Molly.” Ethan got up and took her in his arms.

“What did I do wrong, Ethan?” she cried. “I tried to be the perfect wife and mother. I was so happy when I could quit work and be at home full-time. I loved the cooking, running the household, entertaining. I had parties for Bruce’s associates, and I made sure our home was a place Bruce and Cole could be proud of, but—”

“Sis, you have to stop looking at the past and start looking toward the future.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t get Bruce and her out of my head. She’s only three years older than Cole and—”

“You’re dwelling on this too much,” Ethan said. The age thing was a big problem for Molly. Bruce falling for a younger woman had somehow reduced her worth as a woman. Her confidence was gone and her personality had changed completely in a few months.

“You’ve always been the rock in our family, and I know you have the strength to survive this,” he said into her hair. “When you found out you were pregnant with Cole, you held up your head and faced everyone. When Mom died, you were the one who kept us all together, even though you were hurting, too. And when I was shot, you helped us all stay sane—including me, and I wasn’t an easy person to deal with at that time.”

She straightened and wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “I can’t seem to stop crying and I don’t even like myself these days.”

“Why don’t you go back to work?” he suggested. She’d been drifting in and out of depression for months, and now was the time to do something about it.

Her face crumpled. “You don’t like having me here?”

“I love it and so does Pop, but you need another interest—something to get your mind off Bruce. And to show Cole that you’re gonna be okay.”

She shrugged. “What would I do? It’s been so long since I’ve worked.”

“You have a friend who’s got a gift shop and another who owns a boutique. Maybe you could help out until you decide what you want to do.”

Molly walked to the sink with a thoughtful expression. She came back with a dishcloth and washed down the table, which it didn’t need. “I’ll think about it,” she finally said.

“Good.” He gave her another hug.

Her arms gripped him so tight he could barely breathe. “What if he marries her, Ethan?”

His heart ached for the sadness in her voice, but she had to face the truth. “Oh, Molly. You have to accept it. It’s going to happen.”

“I know, but—”

“Travis is coming home next Saturday,” he slipped in. He’d wanted Travis to tell her himself, but now he had to use whatever was at his disposal.

She drew back and brushed away a tear. “He is?”

“Yep, so you’d better dry those tears and get a room ready.”

“Oh.” She clapped her hands together. “When’s he coming? I want to fix a big dinner and have the house spic and span. I hope he brings his guitar, because I want to hear his songs. Oh, Ethan, this will be fun! Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You made him come home. I know you did, but I don’t care. It’ll be so good to see him. I’ll fix his favorite—chicken and dressing. It won’t be like Mom’s, but I’ll box his ears if he says anything.”

The transformation in Molly was amazing, and that was because she was thinking about something besides Bruce and his new love. He should’ve done this sooner. Molly had to learn that there was life after Bruce.

SERENA AWOKE with a start. She sat up, shook back her hair and turned on the lamp. She’d been dreaming and it was so real. There was a stage and she was standing on it, taking off her clothes. Men were yelling at her, but she continued to undress under their leers and whistles. Her skin still crawled with revulsion and she quickly checked—yes, she had her nightgown on. She wasn’t naked.

“I am not a stripper,” she said out loud. “It’s isn’t me.” Then why did it feel like her? Damn Ethan Ramsey for putting the idea into her head! “I am not a stripper,” she said again, and settled back in bed, trying to calm down. But it wasn’t easy. The feeling of disgust wouldn’t go away.

Her usual worry was about money. Now she was also troubled by the thought that there might be a woman who looked like her. A woman who apparently lived nearby—and worked as a stripper. She couldn’t get it out of her head. She studied the picture on her nightstand—a picture of Jasmine. She had red hair and blue eyes, as did Gran. It was a trait in their family, although Gran’s hair had gone completely white. The woman in the picture did look like Serena. Her hair was brighter and her face slimmer, but they definitely resembled each other.

If the stripper was a “dead ringer” for Serena, there had to be some kind of family connection. But what? Deciding to talk to her grandmother, she got up and went into Aurora’s room. Aurora was sitting in a lounge chair drinking coffee.

“Morning, Gran.” Serena kissed her, then sat cross-legged on the bed.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”

No, she’d had horrible dreams she wanted to forget, but she replied, “Yes, thank you.”

She wondered how to bring up the subject of her mother. They never talked about Jasmine, and there were no pictures of her in Aurora’s bedroom or anywhere else in the house. Serena had found the photo she had in her own room tucked away in a drawer.

“What was my father’s name?” She thought that was a good place to start.

“What?” Gran frowned at her.

“I don’t even know his name. My name’s Farrell because you and Grandfather put it on my birth certificate for obvious reasons. His name had to be something else.”

She supposed she could have researched this easily enough, but she’d never felt the need before; especially while her grandfather was still alive. And her grandparents’ feelings about her father were all too evident.

“He’s dead and it’s best to leave him there,” Aurora said in a hard tone, but it didn’t stop Serena. Ethan Ramsey had opened a door in her mind, and all she could see were empty places.

“No, Gran,” she said, her voice just as hard. “I want you to tell me about him—all the bad stuff. I need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my father.”

“That’s doesn’t mean a thing.”

Serena was taken aback by her grandmother’s attitude. She’d known since she was small that her grandparents hated her father. It was one of the reasons she never asked about him, but now she had to have some answers.

“It does to me,” she replied stubbornly.

Aurora took a quick breath. “His name was John Welch. Jasmine called him Johnnie. He worked as a mechanic. What attracted Jasmine to him I don’t know. She was raised to be a lady, not to live in a one-room apartment above a garage. Henry and I laid down the law and forbade her to see him again, but she ran off to be with him. It almost killed us.”

Serena knew this part of the story. It sounded almost rehearsed. She wanted more.

“Where is John Welch’s family?”

Aurora shrugged. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“Gran!”

“All right.” Aurora patted her white hair. “He lived with someone in a trailer park. After he was killed, they moved away. That’s the only family I knew about.”

“So my father doesn’t have any relatives around here?”

Aurora eyed her strangely. “Why all the questions, Serena?”

“Someone said he saw a woman who looked like me in Dallas, and it got me thinking.”

“Looks like you,” Aurora laughed nervously. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s as beautiful as you. I thought your mother was beautiful, but you’ve eclipsed her in every way.”

Something in Aurora’s voice alerted Serena. “You have forgiven her, haven’t you, Gran?”

“Forgive? I’m not sure. A mother never gets over that kind of pain.” Her hand shook as she took a sip of coffee.

“Oh, Gran.” Serena rushed over and hugged her. “Jasmine gave me to you. You wouldn’t have raised me if you hadn’t loved her deeply.”

Aurora touched her cheek. “Yes, you’re the one good thing that came out of the tragedy.”

Serena sat on the edge of the chair. “I wish I knew more about my father.”

“He’s not worth knowing. Forget about him.”

Serena frowned. She’d never heard her grandmother talk with such vehemence, and it rattled her. Was there something Gran wasn’t telling her?

THE DREAMS CONTINUED. She was stripping in front of men, but now Ethan was in the dream watching her with an I knew it expression on his face. She couldn’t shake the dream and it was beginning to wear her down. She couldn’t let that happen; there were too many other concerns that needed her attention.

She went to a jeweler to have the earrings appraised before hocking them—and discovered that they were worth far more than she’d ever imagined. The jeweler said the shape of the diamond was very rare, as was the box they were in. He showed her the markings on the bottom of the box and explained their significance. The information made her decision that much more difficult, but she kept reminding herself that she didn’t have a choice. The jeweler made her an offer, and she accepted on condition that he’d hold the earrings for thirty days before selling them. Why, she had no idea. She just wanted an option left open to her. The jeweler also agreed to make a cheap fake pair and a similar box. He said she could pick them up in a couple of days. As she hurried out of the store, she felt as if she’d thrown away part of her heritage. But it was only a thing, she kept telling herself.

The next day she went to the bank and made the payment. Mr. Wylie was surprised but pleased, and she could see he was curious about where she’d gotten the money. She didn’t tell him it came from the past—a past she’d probably never see again. But right now, her only feeling was relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about another payment for three months.

THAT NIGHT Serena fought sleep. She couldn’t tolerate another one of those nights. She had to teach in the morning. She groaned at the prospect, almost giving in to a wave of exhaustion. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about the other woman? Maybe because she felt Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story about her father. But what did it matter? Serena got her features from her mother’s side of the family. Her father’s family had nothing to do with that. Still…she’d like to know something about them.

Ethan Ramsey could help her. No, no, she was taking this too far. Gran wouldn’t lie to her. But…she flipped on the light and went over to the trash can. His business card was still inside. She retrieved it and placed it on her nightstand. Now what? Ethan could find out about the other woman; that was the only way she was going to have any peace. Private investigators cost money, though, and she wondered how much he charged. Since she was struggling to stay afloat, hiring him was crazy to even contemplate. Absolutely crazy. She opened the drawer and dropped the card in. She had to pull herself together and stop thinking about the stripper…and Ethan Ramsey.

THINGS WERE CHANGING around the Ramsey house. Molly cleaned and cooked all week, getting ready for Travis’s homecoming. Ethan even heard her singing a few times, and it did his heart good. Bruce had called Cole and Cole had talked to him, in one-word answers, but it was a start. Even though Molly was still hurting, at least she was making an effort to control her reactions. She didn’t say anything when Bruce called, and that was a big improvement. She didn’t even ask Cole what Bruce wanted, which Ethan considered the biggest step of all. She was letting Cole form his own opinions of his father.

Ethan was busy on the ranch, baling hay, fixing fence and clearing brush to rid his pasture of mesquite. It was a never-ending job. He’d bought a spirited horse that needed breaking. Cole was eager for the job, and Ethan figured it was a way for him to get rid of some of the tension he was carrying around. So Saturday morning, Ethan let him try his hand.

He held the horse while his nephew climbed on, then he ran to the fence as the horse started to buck. “Ride ’em, boy. Ride ’em…”

His voice stilled when the horse managed to send Cole flying through the air. The boy hit the ground, spitting out dirt, then rolled onto his back. “What am I doing wrong, Uncle Ethan?”

Ethan shook his head. “You’re not concentrating,” he said from his perch on the fence.

Cole got to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “I’ve concentrated so hard my head’s about to explode.”

“Want to try again?” Pop called, capturing the animal’s reins.

Cole didn’t answer as he stared off toward the road.

Ethan followed his gaze. A truck was coming, stirring up dust like a thundercloud.

Pop put the horse in the bigger corral and walked over to Ethan. Cole followed. “It’s Uncle Travis, isn’t it?” Cole asked excitedly.

Ethan squinted against the morning sun. “Yep, sure looks like it.”

“Yea doggie!” Cole shouted, then leaped over the fence and ran for the house.

Ethan jumped to the ground and winced as pain shot up his leg. Damn, he hated that weakness. But the pain in his hip was his own battle and he dealt with it privately, without complaining, without excuses.

Pop headed for his horse, tethered to the fence. “Think I’ll check on those heifers in the north pasture.”

“Pop,” Ethan called.

His father turned to look at him.

“Thought you were going to make an effort—for Molly.”

“Son—”

“Let’s go, Pop. It’s time to say hello to your youngest son.”

When they reached the house, Travis and Cole were horsing around, throwing punches at each other. With an arm around Cole, Travis said, “Hi, Ethan. Pop.”

“Son,” Pop replied in a solemn voice. “You finally found your way home.”

Ethan took a long breath and embraced Travis, not wanting to give Pop any opportunity to get more zingers in. Pop’s attitude did not bode well for the weekend.

“Good to have you here,” Ethan said as the front door flew open and Molly burst out.

“Travis, Travis!” she cried, and ran into his arms. He swung her round and round until all they heard was the sound of laughter.

Finally Travis set her on her feet. “You’ll never believe what I have cooking in the house!” Molly paused to catch her breath. “Chicken and dressing and apple pie,” she said before Travis could speak.

Travis looped an arm around her waist as they made their way into the house. “You always were my favorite sister.”

“I’m your only sister.” Molly giggled, and Ethan knew he’d done the right thing in asking Travis to come home. He wished Pop could see that.

The day went relatively well, considering Pop’s uncommunicative mood and somber expression. That evening they sat on the front porch, and Travis played his guitar and sang. Molly joined in and Ethan and Cole clapped along. After that, they started on the gospel songs their mother used to sing. Ethan noticed that Pop was getting teary-eyed.

Suddenly Pop said, “You both got your talent from your mother. She sang like a bird.”

An unwelcome tension followed.

Travis cleared his throat. “Thanks, Pop.” And Molly nodded.

“I was so mad at her brother Charlie for buying you that guitar when you were twelve.”

Silence again.

“Later I found out that Marie had given him the money to buy it. It was the only thing she ever kept from me.” He slowly shook his head. “She knew I wouldn’t like it.”

Travis looked to Ethan for guidance, but Ethan didn’t respond. If Pop had something to say, he needed to say it.

“I still don’t like it,” Pop went on. “But Ethan says you have a right to live your life the way you want. He’s right, because when I hear you sing, I hear your mama and…” He stopped as his voice cracked. He got to his feet. “Think I’ll turn in.”

Molly threw her arms around him, and they exchanged a long hug. Then Pop looked at Travis. “Glad you’re home, son,” he mumbled, and walked into the house.

Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. Finally they were talking like a family. Now maybe the hurt could begin to heal.

THEY WERE STILL talking outside when the phone rang. Cole jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

Ethan wondered if Cole was hoping it would be his father. A minute later, he was back. “It’s for you, Uncle Ethan. A woman.”

“A woman?” Travis raised an eyebrow. “This is interesting.” He grinned at Cole. “Did she sound young and attractive?”

Cole shrugged. “She sounded nice.”

“Nice and needs assistance from a P.I. is my guess,” Travis stated.

Ethan stood. “It could be something entirely different.”

“Yeah, right.” Travis said with a laugh.

Ethan shook his head as the laughter followed him into the house.

He picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Mr. Ethan Ramsey?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Serena Farrell. We met a week ago in a café in Fort Worth. You thought I was a…stripper. Do you remember?”

Ethan sat down on the sofa. The redhead was the last person he’d expected to call. That could only mean one thing. She needed his services, just as Travis had predicted.

“Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Ms. Farrell?”

Silence.

“Ms. Farrell?”

“I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Sometimes we all do stupid things.”

“I am not a stripper,” she said hotly.

“Okay, then, why are you calling me?”

“I want to know who the other woman is.”

“I see,” he said, but he didn’t, so he decided to let her do the talking.

“Do you think you can find her?” she asked after a brief pause.

“That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“How…how much do you charge?”

Ethan told her and she asked, “Do you think you can locate her in two days?”

Ethan knew where the woman worked, so the job would be easy, but he wasn’t sure why Serena Farrell needed to find her. Was she telling the truth about her own identity? Could there actually be two of them? His curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to find out.

“I think so,” he said slowly. “Can you explain what this is all about?”

“If she looks like me, we have to be related in some way. I want to know how.”

Ethan accepted that, but he felt there were a lot of blanks that needed filling in. “Okay, I’ll come to Fort Worth and we’ll take it from there.”

“I can’t do it next week. I’m a schoolteacher and it’s the last week of school, but the week after should be fine.”

“I work alone, Ms. Farrell.”

“Please, Mr. Ramsey, this is very important to me.”

Something in her voice got to him. “Give me your number.”

When she’d rattled off her phone number, she said, “Thanks, Mr. Ramsey. I know you think I’m lying, but I’m not.”

“I’m a private investigator and I try not to judge people. If you want this woman found, then I’ll find her. I’ll call in a week.”

Ethan hung up and stared at the phone. The plot thickens. Now he’d discover whether or not there were two women, and he didn’t mind getting to know Ms. Serena Farrell in the process. She was either the best actress he’d ever met or a woman who genuinely needed his help. Either way, he was looking forward to the experience.

SERENA SAT until her heart stopped pounding. She’d done it. She’d called. Now she’d know. She picked up her mother’s picture from the bed. They looked so much alike. Very few people had exactly that hair color together with the fair complexion. For the past few days, she’d had an awful thought, as a result of Gran’s reaction to her questions. Maybe Jasmine wasn’t dead. What if Aurora and Henry had disowned her and pretended she was dead? If her mother was alive and had another daughter—could that possibly be true? Yes, she told herself, because Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d have to find out on her own—with Ethan Ramsey’s help.