“Charles Halston.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened. If she wasn’t already sitting, she would have fallen over. “Wait, what?TheCharles Halston, the mega movie star? The one who was friends with Sinatra and Eastwood all those years?”
“Yes, that’s him. I have his email. It might be tough to reach him; be warned. His security isn’t just going to let anyone get through the iron-clad gate, but it’s worth a shot. Do you have a pen?”
“Ah, yeah.” Dahlia reached over the counter, her mouth still hanging open. “Go ahead.”
“Okay, it’s [email protected].”
Chills ran up Dahlia’s spine as she wrote it down. LG had to stand for Lizzie and Gene.It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise. Dahlia covered her mouth in shock. She wondered if Gene had known Lizzie was married. And happily at that.
“Listen, I’m a romantic at heart. Old letters and long-lost grandfathers are my jam. If I can help with anything else, please let me know.”
“I will. Thank you, Penny.” She hoped she could trust her. Since Noah trusted her, that was confirmation enough.
Dahlia sat back in her chair, her body trembling excessively. Charles Halston could be her biological grandfather. Wasthatwhy his biography was on the bookshelf at Lil’s? Did Lil know, or was it a secret Gran kept to herself?
Then suddenly, her stomach dropped. She knew nothing about this man. What if he was a horrible human? What if he didn’t like dogs? What if he was mean to kids? And arrogant because he had people fawning over him all these years? What if he wanted no part of her? Uncertain of her next move, she sat in Lil’s kitchen with this news, her mind racing with possibilities.
Many hours later, after a swim and a few unanswered calls to Noah, she summoned the courage. She was now at Lil’s desk in the green library her pop painted, with Harry at her feet. Dahlia sat there stalling with her laptop open. The French doors were opened to the garden, and it was so quiet she could hear the bees buzzing around her lavender. The irony wasn’t lost on her that the room was her pop’s long before it was Lil’s. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d be hurt by her curiosity. If he’d be upset by her longing to connect with a stranger who most likely shared her DNA. And would he think she was a traitor? Of all the qualities Dahlia had, her loyalty ranked above all else. The mere thought of this potential betrayal churned her stomach.
Googling him was the mature first step. Dahlia typedCharles Halstoninto the search bar. It readAmerican Actor (born 1936). Below, there were images, so she clicked. They spanned decades, and some were in black-and-white. There was one of him with salt and pepper hair, holding two Oscars, and in the next, he was a young man standing by a river in a pea coat. “He was handsome, Harry,” Dahlia said wistfully. She almost followed it with,I can seewhy Gran fancied him, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t going to give Gran any grace for this.
Dahlia glanced around the moody room in thought and remembered his biography was on the shelves. Quickly, she scanned the bookcase filled with old books. The book’s black cover was right at eye level, and she noticed now how the spine was worn on both sides as if someone’s fingers had pulled it down regularly. Dahlia ran her index finger down the tattered corner with an unfocused gaze.
She pulled it down and held the worn book in her palms. The more facts she had, the better. Plus, there was still a slight chance it was just a coincidence and they had the wrong guy. She opened it and saw a heart drawn in the top right corner of the page. This act of love should have made her heart melt, but it didn’t; it made her angrier that her gran left clues to where her pop could find them in his office, no less. She shook her head with a watery gaze. “She didn’t deserve you, Pop.”
Dahlia thumbed through the 1991 publication highlighting his career. A waft of musty vanilla filled her nostrils. She pored over the pages, hoping to discover clues in the photographs. There was a color photo from 1962 of him in a cowboy hat, his dark, wavy hair sticking out the bottom. Her mom had the same eyes and smile. The caption read,Set of Bonanza, 1962. Dahlia floated her fingers over the photo, feeling her tears pool in the corners of her eyes. The idea that she may have a blood relative out there who she’d never known existed and who was still alive changed things. If this was correct, then she might belong somewhere after all if she could get past the affair. But did he want to be found? That was still the question on her mind.
It was now or never. She blew out a cleansing breath, trying to ready herself for one of the boldest moments of her life. She set the book next to her computer and typed.
From:[email protected]
Subject:You May Have Known My Grandmother Lizzie
Dear Mr. Halston,
Dahlia’s pulse raced as she wondered what to write next.
My apologies for emailing you out of the blue, but I think you may have known my grandmother, Lizzie Laurent. She may also have gone by Prescott back in 1955. I’ve found some letters in her house on Long Island, and I have reason to believe we may be related. If you would like to chat, you can call me at 631-555-5555.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Warmly,
Dahlia Newberry
Dahlia reread it, wondering if she should be more specific. She had zero clue what to say to a Hollywood legend who may also be her grandfather. She could use a sounding board right about now. She looked at her phone—no messages. Where was Noah? It wasn’t like him not to check in. Dahlia was tempted to call Kara, but they had already spoken in the morning, and she was off to the beach. It seemed it was just her and Harry for the time being.
She read it one last time and hit send, feeling like she had just descended from the top of a terrifying roller coaster. It was out of her hands now. The ball was in his court; whatever happened from here was meant to be.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
July 20
Dahlia woke up, squinting at the bright sun. Her head felt like someone split it open with a sledgehammer. She reached for the glass of water beside her bed, knocking over the wine bottle. “Shit, what time is it?” Dahlia peeked at her phone, which read 9:20, and said July 20. It was Noah’s birthday. At first, she smiled, but then realized she hadn’t heard from him since yesterday. She looked next to her, just to be sure, but he wasn’t there. She pulled up their last text thread from the morning before. “See you soon.”
