Overnight Heiress. Modean Moon
as she stepped from the vehicle and onto the winter green grass bordering the drive.
For a moment his hand closed over hers, wrapping it in a promise of safety and caring and concern that she had no memory of ever knowing, wrapping it in a promise of more, much more. Stunned, she looked up, surprising for no more than a second a look in his eyes that spoke of hunger and longing and a loneliness as great as she had known for most of her life. And then it was gone, replaced by a professional, or perhaps a distant-relation, friendliness.
She drew in a not-quite-steady breath and gave him a shaky smile before turning toward her son. “Come on, Danny,” she said softly. “Let’s go meet this new family of ours.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “It’s for sure they’ve got to be better than the old one.”
Meg let the uncharacteristic bitterness pass without comment. She had felt something similar when faced with the apparent ease of Edward Carlton’s life when contrasted with hers. His studio portrait had proved her mistaken about just how sheltered and comfortable he had been. Something would prove it to Danny, too, but until it did, nothing she said would change his mind.
Double oak doors, framed by a heavily leaded, stained-glass fanlight and matching panels, guarded the entrance to the house. Before their little entourage reached the fiat, protected landing, one of those doors flew open, spilling light out into the darkening night and revealing the tall, stern man of the photograph and a small, delicate young woman as light and effervescent as a butterfly.
“You brought them?” the young woman said. “Sheriff Lambert? You really brought them.”
“Yes, Miss Jennie,” Lucas answered, stepping to Meg’s side to grasp the young woman’s hands. “Now what are you doing running around like this? Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”
The tall, stern man—it had to be Edward, her brother—dropped his hand onto the woman‘s—onto Jennie’s—shoulder. “Yes, she is,” he said. “But you know Jennie.”
He looked out onto the steps, and his eyes—eyes that were achingly familiar to her from all the times she had looked into a mirror—locked with Meg’s.
“Meggie?” he said. “Oh, God.” His voice broke, and Meg saw a glint of moisture in his eyes. “It really is you. Meggie.”
Jennie lifted a hand to grasp Edward’s where it lay on her shoulder. “Of course it is,” she said. But even her voice seemed strangely thick. Then, smiling, she stepped away from Edward’s touch and out onto the porch. “He really wants to do this,” she said to Meg, “but he’s still learning that it’s all right to show his emotions. Give him a little more time, though, and you’ll be able to see the love that’s in him, too.” Then she wrapped her arms around Meg and hugged her tightly. “We’re so glad we found you. Edward’s missed you forever.”
With one last welcoming hug, Jennie stepped back and looked toward the young boy standing slightly behind Meg, a boy who, in spite of his youth, was almost as tall as she. “And you’re Danny. Lucas told us about you when he called from Tulsa, but no one would ever have had to tell me who you are. You’re going to look just like your Uncle Edward.”
Danny shrugged and nodded, clearly unsure of his welcome or how he should act toward this strange woman, in spite of her words. Meg took a comforting step closer to him.
“I suppose you’re too big to admit wanting a hug,” Jennie said to the boy. When Danny shrugged and nodded again, Jennie smiled. “Too bad,” she said as she stepped up to him and wrapped him in an embrace. “Everybody needs hugs.”
Danny didn’t immediately surrender to the embrace, but he didn’t struggle, either. Meg caught him looking at her in questioning wonder and gave him a shrug of her own.
“And everybody needs to come into the house and get out of the night air,” Edward said, stepping back but holding out his hand toward Jennie.
“Yes, Miss Jennie,” Lambert added, looking pointedly at her. “They do.”
Jennie laughed and turned, wrapping one arm over Danny’s shoulder and the other around Meg’s waist. “Then by all means, let’s everybody go inside.”
Only then did Meg notice the lines of pain on the young woman’s face. Only then did she hear the strain in her voice. Curious, she thought, as she let herself and her son be led into the house, down a long, wide hall with hardwood floors and Oriental rugs. Fine English side tables and crystal wall sconces lined the walls on the way to what must have been considered a small room in that house, but which was welcoming and comfortably furnished, with a cheery wood fire burning in the cozy fireplace.
There, Edward firmly but gently led Jennie to a wing chair and stood in front of her until she grinned at him and settled herself in the chair. Then, as though not really sure of the etiquette—and who could be, Meg wondered—he gestured toward the other chairs in the grouping. “Please,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. I—” He broke off with a short laugh. “I really don’t know what to say next. And I suppose you are as much in the dark as I am.”
He turned fully toward her. He was tall. As tall as Lucas Lambert who stood beside him, although he was leaner and didn’t have the look of being battle scarred that Lambert wore so unconsciously. And it was more than just his eyes that were familiar to her from her time at the mirror.
“Meggie,” he said again, and his voice made her name a prayer. “I knew—I knew it had to be you when your prints matched,” he told her. “And Lucas told us how much—how much you bore the family resemblance. But, God!...”
Jennie reached for his hand and grasped it.
Edward straightened and glanced toward Lambert. “You’ll stay for dinner?” he asked.
Lucas shook his head, and Meg felt an unreasonable sense of betrayal at being abandoned by him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got work stacked up at the office and more coming as a result of today.” He turned toward Jennie. “You take care of yourself, now,” he said softly.
He looked again at Edward. “The news shouldn’t break for a few days, but if you need me, you know to call.”
He turned toward Danny. “You’re a fine young man,” he said, and Megan heard in his words a goodbye, to Danny and to her. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
And then he turned toward her. “And—and it’s been a pleasure meeting you, too, Meg. If you need anything...”
Meg shook her head, stopping his polite offer. “Thank you, Sheriff Lambert,” she said. So, it was to be Lucas Lambert, the sheriff, with whom she dealt in the future, and not Lucas Lambert, the man. For a while she had wondered. For a while she had almost let herself hope. “You’ve been more than kind. I appreciate all you’ve done for us.”
Tully Wilbanks, his first deputy, was still on duty when Lucas arrived at headquarters. He summoned Tully back to his office and waited until the deputy shut the door. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it across his chair. Stretching once, he sighed and leaned against the desk.
“Tough trip?” Tully asked.
Lucas shook his head. “Surprising, but not strenuous.”
“Was she?”
Was she Megan Carlton and not an impostor? It was amazing how many normally intelligent people thought someone who didn’t claim to be anyone other than a single mother and daytime bartender could be scheming to be Megan Carlton. Even he had, he remembered. At first. “She is.”
“Wow. I guess now we’re going to have reporters and feds crawling all over the place.”
“Reporters, maybe,” Lucas admitted. “But not too many feds. At least not for a while.”
“Okay,” Tully said. “We can handle the press. We’ve still got the plans we worked out when that British rock star came