He nodded. “Two coffees,please.”
Sonya swept up their menus and promised that their plates would be out “in ajiffy.”
In her absence, Rainey and Jacques grinned at each other for a long moment that didn’t grow awkward before Jacques seemed to remember himself. He reached down to the computer bag at hisfeet.
“I stayed up a while after I left your house last night,” he said, setting the laptop on the table between them. “And I put some notes together about the Gloria Lopezes I found inKentucky.”
“Oh, wow,” she said, his efforts surprising her. He opened the screen, tapped a few keys, and turned the laptop around to faceher.
“Out of the six, three are on Facebook. I debated whether or not you’d think it was creepy that I copied their profile pictures,” he said, raising a brow at her. “But then I figured this may be my one and only chance to pretend to be a privateinvestigator.”
Rainey giggled even as her eyes fell on the images, but as she studied the women, her mood sobered. One of them might have had an affair with her father all those years ago. One of them might have given birth to herbrother.
“Based on their pictures, I don’t think we can rule any of these out. They don’t look too old or too young to have a ten-year-oldson.”
Rainey stared at them. “I know this sounds terrible, but if I had to bet, I don’t think your number two picture is ourGloria.”
Jacques spun the computer back, zeroed in on the picture, and frowned. “Whynot?”
Rainey turned the laptop back ninety degrees so they could both see it. The woman, who looked to be around forty, sported a bowl haircut with a prominent cowlick over her left eye. She wore old-style horn-rimmed glasses and a broad smile that suited her broad face. Rainey didn’t want to say anything unkind about the stranger, but she knew her father. All too well. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person, but my dad doesn’t chase women for theirpersonalities.”
His eyebrows lifted in understanding, and he squinted back at the picture. “Aww. She’s not so bad,” he said lightly. “You don’t know. Ten years ago, she might have stoppedtraffic.”
Rainey shook her head. “Believe me, I’m not suggesting that she isn’t a beautiful person. I just know my dad, and he wouldn’t take the time to see her inner beauty.” She knew her voice carried more than a little resentment, so she shouldn’t have been surprised when Jacques’s eyes lingered on hers. But she wasn’t ready for the way they softened onher.
Or the way thatfelt.
She pressed on, stammering. “Th-the two other women have more glam potential,” she said, pointing to the pictures. “Look. Long hair. Not afraid of makeup. Can we look at the stats on theirpages?”
“Sure.” Jacques angled the keyboard toward him and pulled up Facebook. “Okay… This one lives in Lexington. She works at Kepler Accounting Associates… Graduated from University ofLouisville—”
“My dad hooked up with his Gloria in Louisville,” Rainey interjected, a rush of adrenaline spiking in herveins.
Jacques scrolled down. “Okay, it doesn’t list a spouse. Let’s see what photos she has.” He nudged the screen so she could see better, and Rainey’s eyes ran over a series of photos. Most of them featured two dark-eyed, bronzy-skinned little girls. The oldest couldn’t have beeneight.
Noboy.
“If she had a son, she’d post his picture, right?” Rainey musedaloud.
“You’d think,” Jacques muttered, scrolling through more photos. Some pics featured this Gloria arm in arm with friends, all female. There were no pictures of men or boys. If the Gloria Lopez in Lexington had gotten married seven years ago or had a son at all, her social media presence bore no sign ofeither.
Sonya returned with their coffees, and they took turns with the sugar canister. Rainey plucked two creamers from the little saucer on their table and set them by Jacques’s mug, remembering how he took hiscoffee.
“Thanks,” he muttered softly, wearing a smile she could feel as well as see. The feeling settled in her middle. Rainey focused on stirring her coffee instead of the penetratingsensation.
“I don’t think it’s her,” she saidfinally.
“Should we message her just in case?” Jacquesasked.
“Not yet. I can’t imagine anyone would enjoy a message like that,” Rainey said, shaking her head. “I think it would freak me out a little if someone reached out to me asking about my child and my past — even if I knew they had the wrongperson.”
Jacques seemed to consider this before nodding. “Fair enough. We’ll sort them from most to least likely before reaching out.” But he held her gaze to be sure. “Sound good toyou?”
“Sounds great.” What she didn’t tell him was how much easier and more manageable this whole prospect seemed with his help. The emotions alone would have daunted her withouthim.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s take a look at candidate number three…” He clicked onto the page belonging to Gloria Lopez-Craine. This Gloria lived in Bowling Green, and she owned a salon called “Glorious Locks.” The first several images in her photo cue were all clients. Women sporting new looks, fresh highlights, and fabulous manicures. All with the same backdrop — what could only be the inside of asalon.
But when Jacques scrolled to the third row of pictures, Rainey sucked in abreath.
