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Bree and Haven stood too, worried frowns on both their faces. “I’ll call to check in later,” Bree said. “After you’ve processed.” She shot a look at Archer, who gave her a small nod.
They walked Faith and me to the door and we exited out onto the porch. As I stepped down to the stone path, a couple of dogs came bounding out of the trees. My heart leaped and I turned, moving toward them and bending to greet the white one as she made a beeline for me. “Hi, girl. Oh hi,” I said, finding instant solace in the presence of the pups. “What a pretty girl you are.” The other one whined and danced around and I spent several minutes scratching their heads and then rubbing their bellies as they flopped down to the grass and grinned with happiness. My confusion lifted and my heart lightened as I found that old familiar surety that I felt interacting with dogs. The white dog came to her feet and butted my hand again and I put my hands on her head and looked her in the eye before touching her nose with my own and whispering, “Thank you.”
I stood and turned to the group who were all watching me with smiles on their faces. But it was Archer who was staring at me with something akin to wonder. My smile faded and I tilted my head as he raised his hands. Bree was standing just behind him and so this time Travis interpreted for him. “He did that too,” Archer signed. “He got right down to a dog’s level and looked it in the eye just like you did.” Travis paused for a moment in his translation. “Your father wasn’t from Calliope. He was from Pelion. He bought the property you’re standing on now because it brought him peace. His family owns the town.” He glanced at his wife. “We thought our daughter was the first girl in generations. But we were wrong.” He shook his head. “You were. If I had any doubt at all before, I don’t now. Rory, you’re a Hale.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rory
I couldn’t catch my breath. It’d been a day and a half since I’d found out who my father was, and I still couldn’t manage to force a full inhale through my body. One minute I was jubilant, and the next I was deeply distressed. I’d solved the mystery! I knew my origin story. But it was one filled with heartache and more secrets than I’d ever imagined. I’d only barely begun to attempt to parse through it all. I hoped Archer, Travis, Bree, and Haven would help fill in some gaps if they could via text as questions arose. I had a good feeling they would. I already considered them friends—especially the women—even if I was having trouble seeing them as family just yet.
I wished for that to change, but it was going to be difficult when our lives were in two different locations. Even if we were only a few hours away. Life was busy, and they all had young children and spouses and thriving careers that naturally took up most of their time.
I sighed as a rap sounded at the guest room door of Faith’s house. I’d felt confident driving myself home the day before, despite my embarrassment at having been publicly shamed and the heartache of knowing I’d never see Gage again. But add the realizations of all that Archer and Bree had shared and I’d only been capable of collapsing on Faith’s couch and letting her care for me as if I was ill.
“Come in.”
Faith peeked in the door. “How are you?”
“Better,” I said. Reality was settling in and the shock had begun to abate. Even if I didn’t have the full picture of all that had transpired that spring before I’d been born, at least I had the most important pieces.
“Will you stay a few more days?” she asked.
I gave her the only smile I could muster. “I can’t. You’ve been such a good friend to me Faith, and I’m more appreciative than I can express. But it’s time for me to go home.” I paused, glancing at the closet. “I’ve been considering something though, and I might need your help to get ready.”
Faith sat down on the bed and took my hand. “Whatever you need, I’m in.”
The Buchanan residence was lit up like an amusement park. Lanterns sparkled along the paths and within the trees. The luminous glow spilled from the windows and the balconies of the palatial estate and headlights danced as cars pulled up in front, uniformed valets hurrying to open doors.
My God, it made my head spin to think about all that had happened since the first time I’d stepped on to this property. I pictured Gage bursting into the room clad only in a towel wrapped around his hips, his expression one of shock and barely veiled excitement. Oh, Ivy League, we’ve been on so many adventures together, haven’t we? Gage had helped me search to find out who I really was, and I couldn’t leave without letting him know the end of the story.
I gathered my dress, lifting the hem as I ascended the steps to the front door where a butler admitted me with a bow of his head. I was almost surprised they weren’t checking IDs. Apparently any old chump could walk in if they knew the address. Not that there were many chumps in Calliope Hills.
Well, except me.
I didn’t plan to stay long, however. I realized I was persona non grata among the Calliope elite and I didn’t want to put Gage in an awkward position. If I caught sight of any one of the three women who had confronted me yesterday, I’d hightail it in the other direction. I only wanted to tell Gage in person that I’d found my father. I had to let him know before I went home and before he left for London. He’d been instrumental in helping me. Our mission was successful after all even if Archer and Bree had been the ones to break the case.
And even if it had come at a cost to everyone involved.
It was crowded enough that I was able to use clusters of guests as shields as I moved from room to room, seeking one singular man.
When I felt a hand on my arm, my heart leaped and I pulled in a breath. Gage.
But when I spun toward the person who’d stopped me, I found myself staring at the man I’d met in front of the restaurant a few days before. Gage’s father.
“Mr. Buchanan, hello.”
“Ms. Casteel.”
My shoulders dropped. So he knew my real name. Of course he did. His wife must have told him after she’d confronted me. My neck felt hot and suddenly itchy.
He glanced around, the movement subtle. “May I speak with you?” he asked.
I looked around too, hoping to see Gage, hoping to be rescued. The last thing I really wanted was to speak to Gage’s father without Gage present.
But what could I do? I followed him a short distance to a room off the foyer that turned out to be an office. It was an elegant room featuring a slender, French-inspired writing desk and floral wallpaper, likely Mrs. Buchanan’s home office.
Gage’s father shut the door, the noise of the party suddenly muffled. He turned toward me. When I’d first been introduced, I’d been struck by how different he was to his son. He was a nice-looking man, and I saw traces of Gage in his features. But he was rather short, wiry, and physically average. And here he had this Adonis of a son. Certainly this man thought of him that way. He’d created the perfect dream child to ensure all that he’d worked for didn’t die. Not only was Gage everything his father was—smart, driven, successful—he was even more. What an incredible gift they must consider him. And he was. He was. But he was also his own person.
