"That's rough, man." Mason had moved to Stone Bridge nearly ten years ago after meeting Sandy on a golf trip, and while he'd learned the town's history, he didn't carry the same weight of it that the locals did. "For what it's worth, I think there's honor in not profiting from it. Maybe donate them to a museum? Let them be educational rather than glorified? I bet Emery could help with that.”
"Maybe." Gabe didn't sound convinced. He pulled out his wallet, fumbling with it before extracting a worn photograph. "But that's not the only thing that's been messing with my head."
He set the photo on the table. Devon leaned closer, studying the image. A young woman—had to be Gabe's mother based on the resemblance—stood wrapped in the arms of a man Devon recognized even in his twenties. David Callaway.
"I found this when I was helping my parents clean out their attic a few years ago," Gabe said quietly. "Stuck in a box of my mom's old things. I don't know why I took it. Don't know why I've kept it hidden in my wallet all this time."
“I guess I knew your mom dated David,” Bryson said before taking a sip of his bourbon.
“She never hid that fact. It was before she met my dad, obviously. But she never liked to talk about it, and I've never asked." Gabe traced the edge of the photo with his finger. "But look at them. The way he's holding her. The way she's leaning into him. That's not casual. That's..."
“Puppy love,” Mason finished, waving his hand over the image. “It means nothing. You should see the photographs I have of my ex. You’d swear I was in love with the crazy woman.”
“The one that’s in prison?” Bryson asked.
“The same one.” Mason leaned back as the waitress slipped another bourbon onto the table.
“It’s just weird looking at it.” Gabe's voice cracked slightly. "And I can't stop thinking—what if I'm the third child?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Devon exchanged glances with Bryson across the table.
"Have you asked your parents?" Devon asked.
"How do I ask them that? 'Hey, Mom and Dad, am I actually David Callaway's son?'" Gabe laughed, but there was no humor in it. "My parents have been married for thirty-five years. They're happy. They've built a good life. If my mom had a relationship with David before she married my dad, that's her business. But if I'm his son..."
"It would explain why David left you something in his will," Mason said.
"Or it could just be that David was a decent man who wanted to return something that belonged to my family," Gabe countered. "A gesture of closure or respect or whatever."
"When was this picture taken?" Bryson asked, pulling it closer to examine.
"I don't know. There's no date on the back. My mom's not wearing any identifying jewelry, and there's no background to help place it. Her hairstyle and color have been the same since she was in her early twenties. I’m assuming it was before they moved away, which was before I was conceived, but years after the incident.” Gabe took a long drink. "I've stared at this thing for hours trying to figure it out."
"You could get it dated," Devon suggested. "Photo experts can sometimes narrow down timelines based on the film type and processing methods."
"And then what? Confirm that it was taken right around the time I was conceived?" Gabe shook his head. "That doesn't prove anything. Just makes the questions louder."
Devon watched his friend struggle, seeing the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. "Do you want it to be true?"
Gabe opened his mouth, closed it, then took another drink before answering. "I don't know. David was a good man. Better than my grandfather, certainly. But my dad—the man who raised me—he's the best father I could have asked for. Finding out he's not my biological father..." He paused. "That would break something. Even if he knew all along, even if my parents had some arrangement, it would change everything."
"Not necessarily," Mason said. "Biology doesn't define family. Sandy's got a half-brother she didn't meet until she was twenty. Didn't change how she felt about the siblings she grew up with."
"It's different when you're the one potentially discovering you're not who you thought you were." Gabe stared at the photo. "I've built my entire identity on being Gabriel Maxwell, son of Robert and Anne Maxwell. What happens if I'm actually Gabriel Callaway?"
"You're still you," Bryson said firmly. "DNA doesn't change who you've become, the choices you've made, the man you are."
"Doesn't it, though? What if being David's son explains things about me? The way I am with wine, my connection to the land, the fact that working with vines has always felt like coming home." Gabe's voice grew more agitated. "What if I've been living someone else's life this whole time?"
"Stop," Devon said, his voice cutting through Gabe's spiral. "You're catastrophizing. You don't even know if this is real."
"The will mentioned a third child. The timing works. My mom clearly had a relationship with David that meant something." Gabe gestured helplessly at the photo. "How can I ignore that?"
"You can't," Mason said. "But you also can't let it consume you before you have any facts."
"According to the will, Winston and Callie have three months to find whoever it is,” Gabe said. “What if they come looking at me? What if they've already figured it out?"
Devon hadn't considered that angle. "Would they tell you if they had?"
