The Cowboy's Secret Son. Gayle Wilson

she said blankly. “What did you say?”

      “I was wondering if you had known Violet Mitchum long.”

      Long enough to feel for her the kind of love usually reserved for family, Jillian thought. She didn’t say it aloud, but there was no doubt the old woman had assumed a parental role in her life. And therefore the loss was almost as devastating as if she had been one of Jillian’s parents.

      Maybe even more so, she realized in regret. After she had left her family and ended up in Pinto, Jillian had desperately needed someone as supportive as Violet in her life. And through the years, she couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

      “More than nine years. She was both a friend and a mentor.”

      “A mentor?”

      “She taught me a lot of what I know about this business,” Jillian said, glancing around the interior design studio. “When I came to Pinto, the only job I could get was in the local antique store. I learned a lot from the owner, who was a friend of Violet’s, but even more from Violet herself. Despite the rather…unusual appearance of her house, she had collected some really lovely things when she and Charlie traveled. Violet might not have had any formal education, but she had the eye, and the instinct, to discern quality and value.”

      “And she shared those with you?”

      Jillian smiled at him, thinking about all Violet had shared through the years. “That and far more. She paid for my classes in design and baby-sat my son so I could attend them. When I finished school, she helped secure this job for me by contacting a friend of hers who lived here in Fort Worth. I owe her more than I could possibly say, and now I discover that she’s gone, that she’s been dead for over a month. And I didn’t even know.”

      Despite the depth of her grief, Jillian hated the catch in her voice when she spoke. Through the years she had learned the hard lesson of hiding her emotions. At first she had done it out of pride, and a determination that no matter what her father said to her, he would never see her cry. Then she had done it for Drew’s sake, keeping up a brave front for her son, despite the struggle those first years had been.

      By now, guarding her feelings was a deeply ingrained habit. One that even a grief this profound apparently couldn’t break.

      “I’m so sorry,” Dylan said again.

      “Thank you. It’s just…such a shock.”

      “And I have what will probably be another for you.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “Another shock. Not more bad news,” he clarified quickly. “Violet’s death was enough, I know.”

      “What kind of shock?” Jillian asked carefully.

      “Mrs. Mitchum remembered you in her will.”

      Remembered you in her will. Which could mean almost anything. Violet had a lot of money, of course. Jillian had always known that. Not that it was evident in her person or in her treatment of others. It was simply that Violet loved to tell the story of her beloved Charlie’s strike. And considering how well-known Mitchum Oil was in Texas…

      “She left me something?” Jillian asked.

      “A couple of things, actually.”

      Mementos then, Jillian thought, relieved. For the first time in years her financial situation was stable and promising, and much of that was due to Violet’s past generosity. She didn’t really want her to do more.

      “What are they?”

      “One I couldn’t bring with me,” Dylan Garrett said, smiling at her for the first time.

      Again Jillian shook her head. “I’m not sure—”

      “Violet left you her piano.”

      Memories she had been fighting flooded Jillian’s brain. How many afternoons had she taken refuge in Violet’s huge Victorian house rather than go back to that dreary apartment over the antique store. It was all she could afford, and she was grateful for the owner’s generosity in making it available to her, but her loneliness for adult companionship had been almost unbearable.

      At Violet’s, there had always been a welcome. Jillian remembered the long, happy evenings she’d spent there, her heart filling again with the warmth of the unconditional love she had felt emanating from the old woman for both her and her son. She would play the piano and Violet would hold Drew until he fell asleep. It had been idyllic. And a balm for the rejection Jillian had felt in every other aspect of her life.

      “I can have it delivered whenever and wherever you want it.”

      He meant the piano, Jillian realized. “I—I don’t know what to say,” she said softly.

      “I’ll leave you my card, and you can think about it. Just give me a call when you’ve decided.”

      “I used to play that piano for her.”

      Even as she said it, Jillian realized this man couldn’t possibly care about that. Dylan Garrett was simply acting at the request of Violet’s lawyers. He had told her that at the beginning.

      “She left me a horse,” he said.

      Surprised, she looked up into his blue eyes, which were almost amused—maybe at Violet’s choice of mementos. And yet, at the same time, they exuded a sympathy that made Jillian feel as if perhaps he did understand what she was feeling.

      “And she also left me one of these,” he added.

      He laid something down on the desk in front of her. It took her a few seconds to break the strange connection that had grown between them to look down at whatever it was.

      “My God,” she whispered when she did. And then she added truthfully, “I don’t want this.”

      She didn’t. She would have given every penny this check represented to have had the opportunity to clear up the disagreement that had marred her last visit with Violet, the one where she had taken Jake Tyler with her.

      That had been her mistake. It wasn’t that Violet hadn’t liked Jake. She had said as much herself. But she had also warned Jillian that there was too much “unfinished business” in her past. Too many things she had never put behind her. Violet had warned her that she must clear those up before she could hope to start a new life for her and Drew. A life with someone else.

      “I’m afraid giving it back isn’t an option,” Dylan said, his voice amused. “The money’s yours to do whatever you want.”

      “What I want is to see Violet again,” Jillian protested, knowing how childish that probably sounded.

      “I know,” Dylan replied, and the way he said it somehow made Jillian feel that he didn’t think her plea was childish at all. “I felt the same way when I found out she was gone. I’d lost touch with Violet, and I’ll always regret that. She told me something very meaningful, something that made an incredible difference in my life, and…I never got the chance to tell her that. Or a chance to thank her.”

      Something very meaningful… The words seemed to echo in Jillian’s heart. She had tried to ignore what Violet had told her. She had tried to dismiss the old woman’s wisdom as something that wasn’t feasible or realistic. But none of the advice Violet had given her through the years had been wrong. Jillian had known that, even as she had stubbornly denied the sagacity of what Violet had said to her the last time they’d met.

      “She told me something, too,” she said in a low voice.

      Dylan tilted his head a little, as if he were trying to read her tone. “And…?”

      “And…I didn’t listen because I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. I didn’t want to believe it.”

      “I certainly wouldn’t presume to try to tell you—”

      “Violet would,” Jillian assured