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Chapter 1
“Done.” Callie Taylor stretched and then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before packing her materials back into her large tote bag. After spending an afternoon correcting papers, she couldn’t wait to sample the brownies she’d grabbed on the way home that afternoon. An unexpected knock on her apartment door stopped her, and she grinned as her border terrier, Lucky, bolted off the living room couch and flew across the kitchen’s tile floor.
Without a second thought, Callie followed the dog and pulled open the door. She expected to find another one of the local children selling candy bars for the school fundraiser. Already, several children from nearby homes had come by, and she’d bought candy from each of them. She just couldn’t say no. At this rate, she would have enough candy to last until next spring. But it wasn’t a child standing on her threshold.
“Mrs. Lee! Come on in,” Callie greeted her mom’s closest friend. Although she’d spoken to the older woman many times over the past few months, she hadn’t seen Mrs. Lee since her mom’s funeral three months earlier.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Helen. ‘Mrs. Lee’ makes me feel ancient.” Mrs. Lee’s usual warm smile canceled out the stern tone in her voice.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try. Promise.” Callie closed the door behind her guest. “Ignore the mess. I’ve been working on school stuff. Do you want something to drink? Some tea or coffee?”
“Hot tea sounds perfect.” Helen pulled out one of the colorful, mismatched wooden chairs at the table and sat.
Callie put the teakettle on the stove and then stuffed the last of her school materials in her bag, the whole time wondering what brought Helen by so unexpectedly. A sweet old-fashioned lady, Helen believed in calling before she visited even her closest friends. Whatever the reason behind her visit today, it must be important. And if her unexpected visit wasn’t odd enough, now she remained silent at the table. Normally, she was the energizer bunny of conversation. She just kept going and going.
“Would you like a brownie? I stopped at Rosie’s earlier.” Callie placed a cup of tea and a napkin in front of her visitor.
“No, thank you. I’m all set, but feel free to have one.”
Callie grabbed a brownie and then sat down at the table.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here.” Helen mixed sugar into her tea, but didn’t look at Callie. “I would have called first, but I feared I’d change my mind again before I got here. I got halfway here early last month and turned around.” She put down her spoon and reached for her napkin.
Callie watched as Helen folded and unfolded her napkin and hoped the woman would expand on her cryptic statement.
“A few days before your mom died, she asked me to do her a favor once she was gone. Ruth wanted me to mail a letter she wrote.” Helen kept her eyes focused on her tea as she spoke. “I finally mailed it Monday morning.”
She’d never heard of such an odd request, and Callie couldn’t help but wonder what the letter had been about, or why her mom hadn’t asked her to mail it. “Oh? Who was the letter to?”
Helen remained silent for several seconds, and Callie thought she wasn’t going to answer. “Helen?”
Reaching across the table, Helen took hold of Callie’s hands. “Before I say anything, I need you to understand that Ruth loved you more than anything. She made the decisions she did because she wanted to protect you.”
A growing sense of dread crept through her body, and Callie nodded at Helen’s odd statement.
“She didn’t even tell me the truth until she gave me the letter to mail.”
Callie heard the hurt in the woman’s voice. Her mom and Helen Lee had been friends almost their entire lives, and she couldn’t imagine them keeping secrets from each other.
After taking another deep breath, Helen continued. “She even made me promise not to say anything to you, but now that I’ve mailed the letter, it doesn’t seem right that you don’t know.” Again Helen paused.
“I know my mom loved me, Helen. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Helen squeezed her hand. “Callie, your father is alive. The letter Ruth asked me to mail was to him. Your mom never told him she was pregnant.”
Callie heard the words, but her brain just wouldn’t let her process them. It couldn’t be. “You must have misunderstood her. Mom told me my dad died in a car accident before I was born.” Callie’s voice grew louder with each word. Maybe Mom had kept secrets from her, but she’d never lied to her. If her father was alive, Mom would’ve told her.
Helen squeezed Callie’s hand again. “I didn’t misunderstand, Callie. Your father is alive, and by now, he has gotten your mom’s letter and knows you’re his daughter.”
Pain exploded in her chest as anger and betrayal sliced through Callie’s heart. How could her mom have kept this from her? Yanking her hands away, she stood and walked away from the table. Without warning, tears began to flow down her face and her body trembled as Helen’s words reverberated in her head.
“Why...?” Callie asked as confusion and pain washed over her. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she tell him? And why bother now?”
Helen walked over and embraced Callie in a motherly hug rather than answer right away. Instead of comforting her, Helen’s show of affection caused a fresh round of tears to erupt.
“She wanted to protect you. Ruth thought if you knew, you would try to contact him, and she was afraid you wouldn’t be accepted in his world.” Helen’s voice remained soft and loving, much like it would be if she spoke to her own daughter.
Callie pulled away to find some tissues. “Who is he, and why didn’t she tell him when she was pregnant? Why bother telling him now? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Sighing, Helen moved back to her chair and sat down. “At the time, she wanted to protect him. Sometimes people make bad decisions concerning those they love.” Helen paused and took a sip of tea. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything your mom told me when she gave me the letter.”
***
Dylan Talbot loosened his tie as he climbed the wide mahogany staircase—his footsteps muffled by the thick Persian runner. He didn’t know what to expect when he walked into his stepfather’s study. Earlier that afternoon, his mother had called insisting he come to the family estate in the Hamptons as soon as possible and talk some sense into her husband. Something she’d never asked him to do before.
Both his mother and stepfather, Warren Sherbrooke, sat in Warren’s study when Dylan entered. After placing a kiss on his mother’s cheek, he moved to the leather wingback chair across from the matching leather sofa.
Thankfully, his mother got right to the point. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe you can get Warren to see reason. He won’t listen to me.” Elizabeth Sherbrooke sat uncharacteristically wringing her manicured hands. She was normally a cool and collected woman. For something to get her so riled, it had to be serious.
Dylan focused on the man, who was like a father to him. Warren had treated him like a son from the moment he had married Dylan’s mother after his parents’ divorce when he was four. If he’d ever had any doubts about how his stepfather felt about him, they’d disappeared when Warren had decided to enter politics and handed the reins of Sherbrooke Enterprises over to him. In addition to some charitable foundations, Sherbrooke Enterprises controlled the Sherbrooke Hotel chain, which was one of the largest hotel chains in the world.
“Will one of you tell me what’s going on?” Dylan asked when Warren remained silent.
“I received this in the mail yesterday.” Warren handed Dylan a pale pink envelope. “It’s a letter from a woman I knew a very long time ago.”
Mum couldn’t be jealous. Everyone knew Senator Warren Sherbrooke loved his wife. Theirs was one of the few true love marriages in D.C.
“She claims her daughter is Warren’s child,” Elizabeth said when her husband didn’t continue.
Dylan opened his mouth, but snapped it shut, unsure of what to say. People might call his stepfather many things, but an unfaithful husband wasn’t one of them.
Curious, Dylan pulled out the handwritten letter and scanned its contents. “Whoever this woman is, she must be lying. She must be after something.” He fully expected Warren to agree, but instead, his stepfather shook his head.
“Ruth Taylor wouldn’t lie about something like this.” The conviction in his stepfather’s voice rang out loud and clear.
“People change, Warren. You haven’t spoken to this woman in over thirty years.”
“If she was after something, Elizabeth, she would have come forward long before now. I don’t know why she waited to tell me about this, but I plan to find out.”
