Back to Texas. Amanda Renee
The nine-inch height difference between them made their recent discovery even more shocking. Fraternal twins. Bridgett didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea.
She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, hoping someone would come to her rescue. She didn’t dislike Abby. It was the situation she hated. A month ago, they’d been well on their way to becoming good friends. Maybe they’d have a chance at it again once Bridgett absorbed the fact that her mother had lied to her for the past twenty-eight years. And the revelation that her biological father was the town’s mayor, Darren Fox. A man she’d seen almost every day of her life, but who had never acknowledged her existence. Heck, he didn’t even leave her a decent tip.
Gutted by the lies private investigator Clay Tanner had unearthed regarding her and Abby’s parentage two weeks ago, Bridgett was uncertain what she should do next. Up until then, she’d had a rather normal life in her hometown of Ramblewood, Texas. The people she worked with at the luncheonette, along with her friends and mother, had collectively formed the only family Bridgett had ever known, and it’d suited her just fine. Of course, she’d fantasized about who her father was. Who wouldn’t? Especially after the way her mother had glamourized him.
Her mother had claimed Bridgett was the product of a love affair, and that Bridgett’s father had been an Air Force pilot who had transferred overseas before Ruby had known she was pregnant. Never to be heard from again. Well, she was half right. Bridgett was the result of an affair. And Darren had been in the Air Force. But that was where the truth had ended and twenty-eight years of lies had begun.
“Why would anyone want to make a movie about us?” Bridgett stole a quick glance at the kitchen pass-through window once more for her order.
“All the crap we’ve just been through has amazing movie-of-the-week potential.” Abby removed a bundle of magazines and notes from her bag, fanning them across the counter. “Please help me plan this wedding. New Year’s Eve is in a few months. If Clay has his way, we’ll be married in the barn with a beer-and-pretzel main course.”
The private investigator hadn’t merely discovered she and Abby were sisters, he’d officially become Abby’s fiancé last week. In the span of seven days, the two of them had gotten engaged, packed up what Abby needed from the house she’d shared with her brother in South Carolina and moved her across the country to Clay’s ranch.
“Between working here and at the Bed & Biscuit, I don’t see where I’d have the time.”
“But you have to.” Abby reached for Bridgett’s hand, her smile desperate, almost pleading. Bridgett suspected her sister was on the verge of asking her the question. The one Bridgett had hoped to avoid. At the very least, she hadn’t wanted it to be a public event where the neighborhood busybodies listened in on their conversation. “I’m hoping you’ll be my maid of honor,” Abby said.
Bridgett stared down at the all-too-personal contact, recognizing that if she moved away she’d offend Abby. “I’m flattered, but we’re virtually strangers. I’d think one of your friends would appreciate the honor.”
“Sure, yeah, you’re right.” Abby withdrew her hand, returning her attention to the magazines. “One of my friends—no problem.”
So much for trying to spare her feelings.
Abby dropped her eyes and rapidly thumbed through the pages. To say their lives had changed overnight was an understatement. On top of the twin-sister revelation, Darren had suddenly grown a conscience and had decided he wanted a relationship with his daughters. He could wait an eternity for all she cared. The likelihood of a reunion was zilch. Bridgett found it impossible to face the man who’d demanded her mother to get rid of her before she’d been born. At that time, Darren had known of only one baby. The birth of twins had been a surprise to them both.
Bridgett cut Abby a slice of rum vanilla cream pie as a peace offering and set it next to her coffee. While the truth may have been hard for Bridgett to accept, she’d known who her mother was all along. When Abby had learned her parents had adopted her, she’d been rightfully outraged.
Ruby’s reasons for separating her twin daughters disgusted Bridgett. Not knowing she even carried twins, Ruby had decided to give her baby up for adoption months earlier. When Abby was born, Ruby had refused to hold her, banning the infant from the room. She had already promised to give Abby to a couple in town—Darren’s Air Force buddy and his wife. When Bridgett had unexpectedly arrived a half hour later, Ruby had believed it was a sign to keep the second baby.
Abby sliced her fork through the pie’s tip and took a bite, appearing to savor the mouthful. “I think this became my favorite dessert the first time I ate here. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Bridgett grabbed the almost-full sugar dispenser in front of Abby and topped it up. Afraid her thoughts would betray her, she pretended to be busy.
Bridgett had mixed emotions about Abby. She’d always wanted a sister, but Abby’s arrival had unearthed a mountain of drama. Ramblewood, Texas, might be a tiny dot on the map, but when Darren’s paternity secret had surfaced the day before he’d announced his much-anticipated run for senate, their unsuspecting Hill Country town had become quite the spectacle. Complete with constant media coverage. If one more person asked her for an interview or snapped her photo, she’d scream. Luckily, it had begun to die down over the past two days when Darren had renounced his senate run. It still hadn’t quelled the local gossip, though.
Ruby’s lies had compounded from the day of the twins’ births. The extent of the deception sickened Bridgett. Ruby had claimed she and the twins’ grandparents had had a major falling out when she’d told them she was pregnant. Ruby maintained to this day that she had no idea where they lived. Bridgett wondered if the story was true or another fabrication. Their grandparents would probably be easy to locate, especially since Abby was engaged to a private investigator. But since they’d never tried to contact Bridgett, she had no desire to search for them.
Growing up, Bridgett had suspected Ruby was keeping secrets based on the quick way her mother had dismissed any questions she’d had regarding her grandparents or the name of her father. Eventually, Bridgett had given up and stopped asking.
Now Bridgett just wished people’s tongues would stop wagging long enough for her to regain her footing. The media coverage had turned her and Abby into local celebrities. It irritated Bridgett how the reporters always found the need to mention their ages along with the fact that Bridgett was single. Since the news broke it seemed as if every bachelor within a ten-mile radius had asked her for a date. She didn’t need any coddling and she certainly didn’t need any extra baggage in her life. Besides, she refused to settle for just anybody.
“Order up,” Bert called through the pass-through window, giving Bridgett the opening to walk away from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation with her sister. Her sister. Bridgett doubted she’d get used to those words anytime soon. She used to take waking up in a good mood for granted. Now she prayed for a normal day. No stares or whispers. No tearful phone calls from her mother. Normal was miles away from Ramblewood and she’d rather be anywhere but here. And hopefully that day would come sooner than later.
Bridgett refused to leave anything else to chance. Every afternoon she made of point of checking the Help Wanted ads online in the towns at least a hundred miles from Ramblewood. She’d jump at the first offer. For now, she kept her plans to herself, not wanting to risk anyone trying to talk her out of it. She wanted to secure a job before she left town. Her ultimate goal was to open her own restaurant, but until she found one she could afford, she’d make do managing someone else’s.
Bridgett grabbed the plates and headed for her customer’s table at the front of the luncheonette. When she passed Lark she whispered, “Take over counter duty for me.” The other waitress nodded.
Bridgett had been hesitant when Maggie Dalton, The Magpie’s owner, had hired Lark Meadow a few weeks earlier. Lark had rolled into Ramblewood on the bus. Disheveled, with not much more than a duffel bag and a guitar, Lark had said she was on her way to New Mexico after a disastrous