The Wrong Woman. Linda Warren

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.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE REST OF THE WEEKEND went smoothly, Ethan thought. Travis and Molly laughed and talked and sang, and they had their heads together most of the time. They were only three years apart in age and had always been close. Pop managed to keep his opinions to himself, but by Sunday afternoon Ethan knew something was afoot. Molly was too excited. Then she dropped her bombshell: she was returning to Dallas with Travis and singing in the club with him. Travis had cleared it with the owner. When Pop heard the news, he stomped off to the kitchen.

      Molly appealed to Ethan. “Talk to him. I have to get away.”

      Ethan knew she did, but singing in a nightclub staggered him, too. His sister was more the domestic type.

      Travis spoke up. “C’mon, Ethan. I’ll look out for her.”

      “What about