Past Secrets, Present Love. Lois Richer

Thanks a lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “Kelly?”

      “Yes?” She faced him politely.

      “Did you hear me?”

      “Yes, thank you.”

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

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

      “Yes, you’ve said that.”

      “Do you want to see her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “I’ll go with you.”

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

      “Was it a good wedding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “Take care.”

      Kelly responded in kind, then closed the door.

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

      What was Kelly Young so afraid of?

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

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

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