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“Good evening, Kyle. Piper.”
If he’s surprised I’m showing up with one of his former employees, he hides it well. Then again, Carl has always had a good poker face.
“Carl.” Piper’s tone is cool.
I don’t bother responding.
“The hydrangeas are on their final blooms, but they’re still beautiful this time of year. I can show you around the gardens, if you’d like to see them?”
Piper’s eyes flash to mine. Celeste’s focus on her makes it obvious that the invitation is only meant for her. Equally unsubtle is the intention behind it—to get me and Carl alone.
I nod.
Talking to him alone was the whole point of coming.
“Sure, that sounds lovely.”
Piper follows Celeste down the steps and into the backyard.
Carl passes me and heads toward the fully stocked bar, plopping one giant cube of ice into a glass tumbler and covering it with a splash of amber liquid.
“Mmm, that’s good. Always been a whiskey man.”
He pours a second tumbler, then walks over and holds it out to me.
“No thanks. I don’t drink.” I stuff my hands in my pockets.
Carl nods, setting the second glass down on the table. “Can I get you something else?”
“I’m good.”
Silence falls.
“My mom was an alcoholic. Did you know that?”
“I…no, I didn’t.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“At a bar in Dallas. I was visiting some college buddies. Ada was waitressing there for the summer. Sang with the house band for a couple of songs. I hadn’t decided I was going into music at the time. When I did, it was more because I was drawn to the business side of things. But your mom…she had a voice that could stop traffic. Hard to forget.”
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“No.” His head shake is emphatic. “I never saw her after that night. Never got her last name or her number. Had I known, I would have taken responsibility. Financial support and such.”
He wouldn’t have raised me as his own, he means. He would have shelled out money like a crooked politician covering up a dirty little secret.
“When did you know?”
“I wondered if Ada would ever come up as a star. Like I said, a voice like hers…” He trails off. “Your mother was very talented.”
“She was very troubled too.”
His nod is slow. “I didn’t know. She mentioned she was from Oak Grove that night. The name stuck in my head all those years. When you walked into my office the first time and mentioned the town, I immediately thought of your mother. I had a PI poke around a little, just out of curiosity. Wondering what were the chances that two of the best singers I’d ever heard were from the same tiny town in Texas. I found out she had a son. The dates matched up. So, I took the glass you’d used the next time you came in for a meeting and had it DNA tested. Turned out to be a match.”
“That’s probably illegal.”
“Probably,” he agrees.
