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An hour later, they pulled into the restaurant to meet Palmer’s half sister. Kent turned the Jeep off and waited for Palmer to make a move. She stared at the front door, watching people go in, and she wondered if those people were related to her. Would Courtney bring other people with her?
“Remember our deal,” she said to Kent.
“Yes, we don’t tell her you’re dying.”
Palmer nodded. “I’m just not ready.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Do I look sick?” She looked at Kent. He studied her for a moment and shook his head.
“No, you do look tired, but we’ve been traveling, so I think that’s to be expected. Honestly, I think she’s going to be so excited to meet you, she’s not going to notice if anything is amiss about your appearance. Besides, you’re beautiful.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my pretend boyfriend.”
Kent frowned, and then his expression went blank.
“Where are we again?”
“Columbia, Missouri. Halfway between Kansas City and Saint Louis.”
“Right. Do you think this is where I was born?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” he told her.
Palmer picked her purse up off the floorboard and pulled out the picture of the little girl she thought was her and the woman in the brown dress. She tried to focus but couldn’t. She put the glasses on, and while the image was better, it was an old photo and the subjects had blurred over the years.
“I’m going to come around and help you out. Remember, we’re in love and you can’t keep your hands off of me.” He winked. It wouldn’t be hard for her to pretend. When Kent opened the door, she greeted him with a smile and held her hand out. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be there, meeting her sister. Kent had made all this possible and wanted nothing in return, except to stop at a few places, and to see his friend in New Mexico.
Kent held the door for Palmer to walk into the restaurant. She waited for him and took his arm, and they stepped up to the host stand. Kent leaned down and whispered, “I see your sister.”
“You do?” She scanned the room, but everyone was fuzzy. “How do you know what she looks like?”
“She looks just like you,” he told her. Kent guided Palmer to the table, and Courtney stood on shaky legs. She covered her mouth and held back a sob when Palmer smiled. The two women stood there, in the middle of the aisle, and studied each other. It was like looking in the mirror, with the exception that Courtney was taller by an inch or two. Their hair, eyes, and complexion matched.
“Wow, you ladies could be twins,” Kent said.
The sisters looked at him, and Palmer mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Hi, I’m Courtney,” she said as she held her hand out.
Palmer stared at it for a moment and contemplated whether she wanted to hug the woman or not. Her resolved teetered between shaking her hand, pulling her into an embrace, or running for the door. Kent tapped her lightly on the back, and Palmer reacted. She shook her sister’s hand and said, “I’m Palmer Sinclair.”
“Such a beautiful name. Shall we sit?”
Palmer slid into the booth, and Kent followed. He kept his hand on her leg, to keep the jitters away. She appreciated the comforting touch because she was about to jump out of her skin. The sisters stared at each other, neither of them saying anything, until the waiter came by and took their orders.
Kent ordered every appetizer on the menu because neither woman had bothered to even look at what was in front of them. They were both lost in each other’s eyes.
“I’m Kent,” he said.
“Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry.” Palmer covered her face in embarrassment.
“Don’t be, babe. This is a big moment for you.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Courtney said. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”
Palmer nodded. “I’m sorry, but I don’t . . . didn’t know about you, but I get the impression you knew about me?”
Courtney nodded and leaned forward. “I’ve known about you my entire life.”
Kent squeezed Palmer’s leg. “Palmer has a lot of questions. We’re hoping you can answer them for her?”
“I’ll try my hardest.”
Palmer looked at Kent, and he motioned for her to ask. This was the moment she had waited for. Now was the time to let everything out.
“What’s my name?”
THIRTY-ONE
Courtney reached into her bag and pulled out a folder and a small wooden box. She set both on the table and nudged the box toward Palmer, who opened it. Inside were a dozen or more photos. Kent handed Palmer her glasses, and she slipped them on. The photos were of a little girl and an older woman.
“That’s our mother,” Courtney said, a confused expression crossing her face.
“Where is she?” Palmer asked.
“She passed away about ten years ago.”
