“Sorry, I can’t. I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Okey dokey.” He walked out and closed the door behind him.
When Gwen was certain he was gone, she picked up the phone on the desk and dialed her parents’ number, because this was major. They definitely needed to know about Peter Miller. Gwen was also going to suggest that they talk to their lawyers as soon as possible.
CHAPTER 2
Gwen waited all morning for Peter to pack up and leave for lunch. When she finally heard his footsteps tapping down the main staircase and saw him heading out the door, she grabbed her purse and drove straight to her parents’ house.
They lived a few miles outside of town on a sprawling hilltop estate that overlooked the lush green valley below. Gwen pulled into the driveway, got out of her silver Mercedes-Benz, and walked up the stone steps. Her mother, Anne, was outside on the covered veranda, seated in her favorite white wicker chair, reading a glossy magazine.
“Hi, darling,” she said, rising to her feet. “I still can’t get over this. Do you think it’s true about Scarlett—that she had a baby?”
“I don’t know,” Gwen replied. “And please remember to keep this just between us. Have you told Dad yet?”
“No,” Anne replied. “He’s teaching classes all afternoon. I didn’t want to distract him, so I thought I’d wait until he got home. Did you bring the picture?”
“Yes, I have it in my bag. Let’s go inside.”
Anne opened the screen door, and Gwen followed her into the kitchen at the back of the house. She set her bag down on one of the stools around the large kitchen island and withdrew the newspaper clipping.
“It’s kind of grainy,” Gwen said as she handed it over.
Her mother peered through the lower portion of her progressive lenses. “My word. It does look like her.” She read the caption below the photo, then handed it back to Gwen. “If it’s true, it certainly is a bombshell, like you said. I don’t know what to think.”
Gwen slid the photo back into her bag. “Me neither. I just wish I could look into this on my own. It feels like it should be a private family matter.”
“Nothing’s private about Scarlett,” her mother replied. “On the upside, maybe this fellow has some more information that he hasn’t shared with you yet. I hope you were friendly with him.” She gave Gwen a sidelong glance.
“Of course I was,” she replied, indignant. “I gave him full access to the archives, and I told him that he could stay as long as he liked.”
Her mother washed her hands at the sink. “Do you want something to eat or a cup of coffee?”
“I just had lunch at my desk,” Gwen replied, “but I’d love a coffee.”
While her mother switched on the Keurig machine, Gwen sat at the kitchen island and gazed out at the swimming pool. She thought about who in the family had known Scarlett best. Gwen’s mother and Scarlett were first cousins, but they were two decades apart in age and had only met once when Anne was twelve and completely starstruck. Scarlett had no siblings. Gwen’s grandmother, however, had been Scarlett’s favorite aunt. They’d always kept in touch.
“Grandma Mary never said anything to you?”
“Nothing,” her mother replied, “which makes me think she couldn’t have known.”
“That’s why I don’t see how it can be true,” Gwen said, “because Scarlett was close to Grandma Mary and left her entire fortune to her. There was nothing in the will for a biological child.”
“Maybe Scarlett wanted to take that secret to her grave,” her mother suggested as she filled Gwen’s coffee cup. “Or maybe the child died atsome point. That would keep things simple from a legal standpoint, but it doesn’t solve the mystery.”
“About what happened in Alaska?” Gwen asked.
“Yes. I mean, obviously there was an earthquake,” her mother added, “and a baby was rescued from the sea. It’s an unbelievable story, even for a normal person.”
“Scarlett was normal,” Gwen reminded her.
“No, she wasn’t. She was one of the most famous, most photographed, recognizable women in the world.” She handed Gwen her coffee.
“Yes, but she was normal on the inside,” Gwen insisted, though she couldn’t possibly know for sure. Maybe that’s what was so unsettling about all this. Gwen had always felt that, as the museum curator, she knew Scarlett intimately and better than anyone. But perhaps that wasn’t the case at all. Perhaps everything she believed was pure conjecture.
She sipped her coffee. “If it’s true, it raises a lot of questions. Like, is that the real reason Scarlett left home? Did her father make her feel ashamed or force her to put her baby up for adoption? Maybe she blamed him for whatever happened to the child and that’s why they never spoke again.”
Anne sat down at the island and laid her hand on Gwen’s forearm. “Are you okay? I’m sure this situation must touch a nerve.”
