“Oh, you’re so right.” Cait’s pulse leaped as she climbed into the attic. “She lost everything in the fire. What would she decorate her tree with?”
Brian wasn’t wrong. Cait opened boxes after boxes of heirloom ornaments from delicate glass balls to crystal collectibles.
“These are too nice to put outside,” Brian said.
“We should call them back to fetch these for their tree.” Cait dangled a pair of silver bells. “These are precious.”
“There are photo albums, too,” Brian said. “I wonder why they left them here.”
Cait opened the first album and caught her breath. “This isn’t them, at least, that’s my mom, but…”
“Is that you?” Brian pointed to the baby in her mother’s arms.
Cait nodded, but she wasn’t looking at the baby. Instead, her eyes were locked onto the man standing next to her mother. “I don’t get it. I’ve never met that man. He’s got red hair.”
“Maybe he’s an uncle?” Brian’s voice squeaked in a strangled sound.
Cait removed the picture from the corner holders and turned it over. There was nothing but a date written on the back. “I was two months old. My parents were only married five months before I was born. What if?”
She left the rest unspoken. The man in the picture had her auburn hair and his eyebrows matched hers, with its downward sweep, so unlike the upward arching brows of her brothers and sisters.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Cait said, shoving the album back into the box. “Can we forget what we saw?”
Brian put the lid back on the box. “I’m good at forgetting. Let’s not decorate our Christmas tree. I hear it’s going to snow the week before Christmas.”
* * *
Brian wasgood at remembering what he was supposed to forget, because he didn’t forget anything.
Not being able to forget would have caused pain in a normal person, but fortunately, his shields were full strength, and he didn’t have feelings to get hurt.
Logically, it was mean of Cait to marry him and try to pawn off her baby with Tommy Harper on him, but the baby was never born. She never told him what she did with it, so he didn’t ask.
It made perfect sense in a way. Tommy had red hair, and he had red hair. Tommy dumped her, and Cait needed a husband quick. He needed a wife, and everything had worked out even without them being in love.
“Are you hungry?” he asked Cait when he helped her descend the ladder.
“No, I just want to be alone,” she said.
“Okay.” He turned away from her and went to the kitchen. Since she wasn’t hungry, he’d fix himself a steak and go to bed early.
There was no reason for Cait to be upset about the picture. She obviously hadn’t recognized the man, but it did add an interesting wrinkle into his plans on getting Glen away from the senator.
He’d have to make a flowchart and figure out the best course of action. Mrs. Thornton had told him that every secret had many reasons behind it. The key was to figure out why someone wanted to keep a secret, then maneuver them into a corner. Secrets were great tools for master negotiators like him.
What did he want? Glen.
What had Alana wanted? Glen and her marriage to the senator.
What did the senator want? Power and standing in the community.
The picture in the attic could cause a scandal, but it could also be a bargaining chip.
Brian flipped the steak, smiling to himself. This Christmas was looking to be his best ever, although he would have to replace the car Cait totaled.
The two dogs smelled the steak and circled the kitchen, begging for a scrap. He cut off a small piece for each one, then fed them their dog food.
Since Cait wanted to be alone, Brian ate in the kitchen, standing next to the stove. He was wolfing down his steak when Cait dragged herself through the door.
