“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
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.”
When We Found Home Page 5
