Taking a deep breath, Kat released her confession in a slow, shaky exhale. “I’m… your sister.”
Chapter 4
Kat’s pulse slowed until it nearly halted altogether as she waited for a response.
“Wh-what?” Penny’s color drained, her shock evident.
Comparing the two of them side by side, it was no wonder she had difficulty believing Kat’s claim. Besides their red hair—of which Penny’s appeared more auburn—they had little in common.
“I’m Kat Bennet. Helena Bennet’s daughter. And your half sister.”
Penny sank onto a plum-velvet chaise lounge, her pallid complexion turning puce.
Softening, Kat empathized with her stunned reaction. Although Penny knew of her existence, after months without a single word of correspondence, her impromptu visit had clearly come as a surprise.
Glancing around the quirky shop, she spotted a small refreshment table serving tea and cookies. She quickly filled one of the small paper cups with the hot liquid that smelled of orange zest and cloves and brought it over to her sister, gently sitting beside her.
Penny accepted it with trembling hands and slowly took a sip. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured over the brim. “When I didn’t hear from you after a while, I gave up hope.” She turned to Kat, her eyes glistening. “I’m so glad you came.” Mindful not to spill her tea, Penny slipped her arms around Kat’s shoulders, hugging her tightly.
Uncomfortable with displays of affection, especially from strangers, Kat kept both arms glued to her sides, sitting rigid on the tufted cushion.
Pulling away, Penny wiped her damp cheek with her free hand and asked, “Did Helena ever tell you about me?”
“No, she didn’t. She never talked about her old life.” Kat cringed at her use of the past tense. She’d wanted to ease into the news about Helena’s death, not spring it on her sister with an offhand comment.
But Penny didn’t seem to notice, still in a daze. “I can’t get over the fact that you’re actually here! How long can you stay?”
“I… I can’t stay long.” Chewing her bottom lip, Kat struggled with how to explain her visit. “I’m actually here because I need your help.”
“Anything,” Penny said quickly.
Kat blinked, surprised by her eagerness to help, considering they barely knew each other. “I’m looking for something that belonged to our mother. A brooch crafted out of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. It looks like a sprig of mistletoe. I suppose it’s a long shot that you still have it but I’m desperate.”
“Desperate?”
“Hope Hideaway, a women’s shelter where I live and work, is on the verge of closing. I thought that maybe, if you still had the brooch, you might be willing to sell it and split the money with me. My half would go toward saving the shelter.”
“I see…” Penny’s slender eyebrows knit together.
Kat held her breath, her heart beating in short, agonizing bursts for what felt like hours. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have sprung this on Penny—it was too much for one person to process in a matter of minutes. Riddled with regret, Kat leaped from the chaise lounge. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have asked you to—”
“It’s not that,” Penny said hastily, scrambling to her feet. “I want to help. You can have the brooch, as long as it’s okay with Helena. Even though she left it with my father, I don’t really feel like it’s mine to give away. But if she’s okay with you selling it, you can use every last dime for the shelter.”
For a moment, Kat stood speechless. She hadn’t expected such selfless generosity. She also hadn’t expected spilling the news about Helena’s death to be so difficult. Although the words rested on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t bring herself to say them out loud, knowing they would incite questions she wasn’t ready to answer. “Thank you,” she said softly, resolving to tell Penny about their mother at another time. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me… to the shelter.”
“I’m happy to help. Truly. Let me flip the Closed sign on the front door, then we’ll head upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“I live in the apartment above the shop. The brooch is with my dad’s things.”
Recalling the portion in Penny’s letter about her father’s passing, she offered, “I was sorry to hear about your dad. Were you close?”
“Closer than close.” Penny’s eyes glimmered with warmth. “He was my best friend.”
Unexpectedly, tears welled in Kat’s eyes and she dismissed them with a sharp exhale. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have one loving, dependable parent to speak of with such fondness. But a child didn’t get to choose that sort of thing. They simply had to play with the cards they were dealt. Or in her case, shuffle those particular cards to the bottom of the deck where they belonged.
Kat followed Penny past a thick brocade curtain into a disheveled storage room, then up a narrow staircase, her nerves mounting with each step.
