They were probably happy about that, too. Otherwise, they might’ve been forced to tell her the truth. Had they been more afraid of what the news would do to her—or to them?
That was an ungenerous thought. She hated herself for having it. They’d always put her first. But she was so rattled she wasn’t thinking clearly. “She must never have changed her mind about me,” she said, the knife of that intimate rejection plunging deep. “Never wanted to meet me.”
“Situations like this... They’re not that simple, honey,” he said. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to meet you, but didn’t want to intrude for fear it would confuse or upset you. Maybe it was too painful for her to even face the fact that she’d already had a child. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s something a woman never really gets over. It’s not like she had to worry that you’d go without the love and care you needed. We assured her and her family from the very beginning—through the adoption agency—that we’d give youeverythingwe possibly could.”
And they’d done that. But this blow... She couldn’t get over the sense of betrayal—overlying the painful rejection—that was digging into her with talon-like claws. “So what do I do?” she asked.
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
She indicated the letter. “I have a half sister who needs someone to take care of her. I can’t continue living my life as if she doesn’t exist.”
“We’ll send for her—bring her here,” he said. “Your mother and I would love another child.”
They were too old to become parents again. Her father worked long hours, and her mother was no longer healthy.
“Don’t you think we should meet her before we make a decision like that?”
“Actually, we probably should,” he said. “We have our passports. We’ll all go over there.”
“I don’t think we should go over and just grab her, if that’s what you’re suggesting. It’ll take time to assess what’s best for her. She’s just lost her mother. Uprooting her right now could be the worst thing in the world for her, especially if she’s happy living where she is.”
“So what are you getting at?” he asked. “We can’t stay more than a week or two. I have work, and it probably wouldn’t be wise to take your mother out of the country for too long.”
“I’llgo,” she said. “It’s not like I have a husband to worry about anymore.”
His eyes widened. “What about your book?”
“I can write from anywhere,” she said—ifshe could write at all. That remained to be seen, especially now. She’d been in an emotional tailspinbeforereceiving the news that she’d been adopted, her birth mother had just died and she had a younger sister who needed her.
He didn’t seem convinced she’d be better off on her own. “We should probably go over with you—”
“Dad,” she broke in. “I’m nearly thirty years old. I’m an adult, and I’m going alone.”
“Shouldn’t we include your mother in this conversation?”
She stood. “I’m willing to hear her opinion, but I don’t think it’ll change my mind.”
He got to his feet, too. “But you’re already dealing with a painful divorce...”
“Dad, there could be worse things than going to Italy.” She offered him a feeble smile, and he pulled her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “This hasbeen such a nasty surprise. But I hope you know we’ve only ever wanted good things for you. We love you more than life itself.”
Shedidknow that. It was what was going to pull her through.
Sloane was building a color scheme—holding fabric swatches to paint chips and imagining what furniture would work with them—when she received a text from her brother.
You’re not going to believe this.
Curious, she took a break from work to message him back.
What is it?
Charlotte’s heading to Italy.
For vacation? I wish I could go with her. How long will she be gone?
Indefinitely.
