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Secrets of a Small Town
Patricia Kay
THE ULTIMATE BETRAYALSabrina March's safe little life had one cornerstone–her dad. Then he died in her arms. Sabrina was devastated, but she knew in her heart that someday she would find a man like her father and live happily ever after.So when Sabrina learned her father had lived a double life–complete with another "wife" and family–her trust in men was shattered.Until she met Greg Antonelli–the man of her dreams…or her nightmares. Greg swept her into a secret affair that left her breathless. But how could she bear to be with him? His sister had been Sabrina's father's other woman. Was Sabrina willing to risk everything for Greg and the chance to make her dream come true?



Dearest Sabrina, she read.
This is hard for me to write, and I know it will be painful for you to read. There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it outright.
Six years ago I fell in love with a woman I met while conducting a tour in Italy. I couldn’t seem to help myself. I know she would never keep seeing me if she knew I was married, so I pretended I wasn’t. I told her I was divorced.
After we’d been seeing each other for a while, she began to press me for a commitment. I tried, but I couldn’t give her up. So we got married.
I am so sorry for the hurt I’ve caused you,
Love,
Dad

Married!

Daddy, how could you have done this to us?
Dear Reader,

As you take a break from raking those autumn leaves, you’ll want to check out our latest Silhouette Special Edition novels! This month, we’re thrilled to feature Stella Bagwell’s Should Have Been Her Child (#1570), the first book in her new miniseries, MEN OF THE WEST. Stella writes that this series is full of “rough, tough cowboys, the strong bond of sibling love and the wide-open skies of the west. Mix those elements with a dash of intrigue, mayhem and a whole lot of romance and you get the Ketchum family!” And we can’t wait to read their stories!

Next, Christine Rimmer brings us The Marriage Medallion (#1567), the third book in her VIKING BRIDES series, which is all about matrimonial destiny and solving secrets of the past. In Jodi O’Donnell’s The Rancher’s Daughter (#1568), part of popular series MONTANA MAVERICKS: THE KINGSLEYS, two unlikely soul mates are trapped in a cave…and find a way to stay warm. Practice Makes Pregnant (#1569) by Lois Faye Dyer, the fourth book in the MANHATTAN MULTIPLES series, tells the story of a night of passion and a very unexpected development between a handsome attorney and a bashful assistant. Will their marriage of convenience turn to everlasting love?

Patricia Kay will hook readers into an intricate family dynamic and heart-thumping romance in Secrets of a Small Town (#1571). And Karen Sandler’s Counting on a Cowboy (#1572) is an engaging tale about a good-hearted teacher who finds love with a rancher and his young daughter. You won’t want to miss this touching story!

Stay warm in this crisp weather with six complex and satisfying romances. And be sure to return next month for more emotional storytelling from Silhouette Special Edition!

Happy reading!

Gail Chasan
Senior Editor

Secrets of a Small Town
Patricia Kay


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to all the wonderful people in Struthers, Ohio, the small town where I grew up. You’re the best!

PATRICIA KAY,
formerly writing as Trisha Alexander, is the USA TODAY bestselling author of more that thirty contemporary romances. She has three grown children, three adored grandchildren and lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and their three cats. To learn more about her, visit her Web site at www.patriciakay.com.



Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One
Sabrina March leaned back in her chair and sighed with satisfaction. “The chicken and dumplings were wonderful, as usual.” She smiled at Florence Hillman, her parents’ longtime housekeeper, who had begun to clear the table.
“Glad you enjoyed them.” Florence’s return smile was affectionate.
“I believe I enjoyed them far too much,” Sabrina’s father said, patting his stomach. “What do you say we go for a walk, Sabrina? Work off some of these calories.” Turning to Sabrina’s mother, he said, “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”
Isabel March’s gray eyes seemed, if anything, to grow frostier, but after a moment, she shook her head. “As long as you’re not gone too long.” Under her breath, she added, “I get little enough of your time.”
As always, Ben March ignored her critical comment, and his voice was gentle as he replied, “I’ll be back in an hour, no longer.”
Sabrina’s father, who was the CEO of his tour company, was due to leave on an extended trip—this time to Greece, Sabrina thought—early the following morning. His expertise lay in finding new areas to tour, then negotiating the best deals with hotels, restaurants and tourist attractions. March Tours wasn’t a large company, but it was very successful in the high-end tour business. That success was directly attributable to her father’s work ethic, which had translated into long absences from home.
These absences had been hard on Sabrina and her mother, so Sabrina sympathized with her mother’s wish to have more of her father’s attention. Even so, she couldn’t help being glad she’d have a little time alone with him today. She loved her mother, but she adored her father.
When he was home, there was an excitement and cheer that was in short supply at other times. There was no one she respected more. In Sabrina’s eyes, Ben seemed the ideal man: honest, hardworking, loyal, generous and loving. The past sixteen years couldn’t have been easy ones for him, but he had never complained. In fact, his behavior had been an inspiration to her.
With only a nod to indicate she’d heard him, Sabrina’s mother pushed back from the table. Her motorized wheelchair—the best money could buy—moved as silently as a cloud. If only her mother hadn’t had that accident sixteen years ago, things might have been so different. She might have been different.
Sometimes Sabrina thought she couldn’t stand her mother’s unhappiness and bitterness another day. And then, as soon as the thought formed, she felt guilty for the selfishness of it. After all, it couldn’t be easy for her mother who, before the skiing accident that had cost her the use of her legs, had been athletic and active. To compensate for these occasional uncharitable feelings, Sabrina tried to be doubly attentive and compassionate toward her mother.
“Ready?” her father said now, rising from the table.
Sabrina nodded, eager to be outside in the fresh October air.
Once they were in her father’s car and on their way, he said, “Have you done any more thinking about your job since we last talked, honey?”
Sabrina sighed. “Yes, but I haven’t come up with any answers.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Do you want me to talk to your mother about it?”
For just one weak moment, Sabrina was tempted. Then she sighed again. “No, Dad. This is my problem. I appreciate that you’re willing to do it, but I have to handle this myself.”
Sabrina was the publisher of The Rockwell Record, the daily newspaper, which had been founded by her great-grandfather, Francis Kipling Rockwell. From the time she was old enough to understand what a newspaper was, she’d wanted to work there. But her vision had been romantic. She’d seen herself as a reporter or as the editor. She’d never wanted to run the business, to be the one who would hire and fire, the one who would have all the practical and financial worries. Yet since her Uncle Frank had retired, she was the only Rockwell left to head the paper. More and more, she’d had to leave the reporting and editing to others. For the past year, she’d been torn by a sense that her life had somehow gotten out of her control. And she felt powerless to change that.
“If I wasn’t gone so much, and you didn’t have the responsibility of your mother, too…” her father began.
“It’s not your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. You know Mom would be very unhappy if you didn’t bring in the kind of money you do. Besides, it wouldn’t matter. She expects certain things of me, and that wouldn’t change even if you were home all the time.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. Really I am. Now, let’s talk about something else.”
Ten minutes later, car parked, Sabrina and her father began to climb the hill leading to the flower gardens of the park, which was their favorite place to walk. The path was strewn with brightly hued leaves from the maple trees that lined the walkway. Sabrina took a deep, appreciative breath. She loved autumn. It was her favorite season.
“Did you hear about what happened to Shorty Carwell last—” She stopped in mid-question. “Dad?”
Her father had abruptly stopped walking and was gripping his chest.
“Dad?” she said more urgently. “What’s wrong?”
He grimaced. “Just…just a bit of…indigestion. Shouldn’t have had that second helping of dumplings.”
“Are you sure?” Sabrina didn’t like his color. Normally her father’s complexion was ruddy, but right now he looked pale. “Maybe we should go home.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. It’s just indigestion. Walking will be good for me.”
“But—”
“It’s okay. I feel fine now.” Smiling, he held out his arm.
Although Sabrina took it, she couldn’t banish the kernel of anxiety that had knotted in her stomach. Maybe it was just her questioning nature—so valuable to a reporter—but his smile seemed strained to her. Yet he seemed determined to act as if nothing had happened, so she forced a lightness into her voice that she didn’t feel.
“What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Noon.”
“So you’ll be leaving early.”
Her father always flew out of Cleveland rather than Akron, which was closer to Rockwell, because there were more flights to choose from. When Ben didn’t immediately answer, she looked at him sharply. Alarm caused her heart to lurch. His face was now a ghostly white, and beads of perspiration stood out on his upper lip, although the late afternoon air was chilly. “Dad! You’re not all right!”
“I—” He staggered back. Clutched his chest. His eyes met hers for one panicked moment. Then, with a strangled cry, he collapsed on to the walkway.
Sabrina lunged for him, but she couldn’t hold on—he was too heavy. With a calmness she later marveled at, she whipped out her cell phone and punched in 911, as she sank to her knees and put two shaking fingers of her other hand against her father’s carotid artery. She swallowed. There was no pulse. Dear God.
The moment she’d finished giving the emergency dispatcher the information that would bring an ambulance and EMT personnel to the park, she began CPR. Thank God she’d taken the lifesaving course only months earlier, as part of a series she’d done on emergency facilities in the area; otherwise, she wouldn’t have had any idea how to go about trying to revive him.
“Dad, please be okay. Please be okay.”
Over and over she pleaded with him even as exhaustion began to make it harder and harder to keep going. Again and again she went through the cycle she’d been taught. Fifteen compressions followed by two slow breaths into his mouth. Recheck his pulse. Fifteen more compressions, two slow breaths. Check the pulse.
By now she was sobbing with fright and frustration. No matter what she did, he still wasn’t breathing! Where was that ambulance?
Please hurry, she prayed. Please hurry.
Finally she heard the wail of the siren, faint at first, then louder and louder as it pulled into the parking lot below.
Within moments, three EMTs converged on her. Strong hands moved her aside, and the technicians took over.
The next ten minutes were a blur. Sabrina watched numbly as the EMT personnel worked on her father. When one of them—a stocky dark-haired man who seemed to be in charge—called for the defibrillators, Sabrina bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Please, God. Please don’t let him die. I need him.
She watched in agony, wincing each time they shocked her father’s heart.
And then, in a slow-motion moment Sabrina knew she would remember the rest of her life, the dark-haired EMT raised his head.
“It’s no use,” he said, looking at the other two.
“No!” Sabrina cried.
The female EMT turned to her. “I’m so sorry.” Her dark eyes were filled with sympathy. “There’s nothing else we can do. He’s gone.”
Sabrina stared at them. Her father couldn’t be dead. He was only fifty-eight years old. He was way too young to die. “Daddy…” Tears ran down her face. “Daddy.”
The female EMT stood, putting an arm around Sabrina’s shoulder. She led Sabrina to a nearby bench. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” she asked kindly.
Sabrina numbly shook her head. Her father had no family. His parents were dead, and he had been an only child. And her mother…dear God, her mother…
“Are you sure?”
Sabrina wasn’t sure about anything. “M-my mother’s in a wheelchair. I—I have to go there and…and tell her.” Oh, dear heaven. What was going to happen to them? How would her mother handle this?
“Is there any other family? Someone who can be with you so you don’t have to do this alone?”
There was only her mother’s brother Frank, but he was in poor health and retired with his wife in Florida, and her Aunt Irene, her mother’s sister, who lived with her family in Savannah. Sabrina bit her trembling lip. Casey. Casey would come.
“I—I’ll call a friend,” she finally managed. Casey Hudson had been her best friend since high school, the closest friend she’d ever had.
The moment she heard Casey’s voice, Sabrina broke down. Gently the EMT—whose name tag identified her as J. Kovalsky—took the cell phone out of her hand. In soft tones, she explained the situation. By the time Sabrina had regained control of herself, the phone call had been disconnected.
“Your friend said she’d be here in ten minutes.”
Sabrina sat numbly as the two male EMTs loaded her father’s inert body onto a rolling stretcher that they placed in the ambulance. “Wh-where will you take him?”
“To the morgue at County General.”
Because of her newspaper work, Sabrina knew that a death certificate would have to be signed, and that her father’s body would be kept at the morgue until whatever funeral home she and her mother chose would claim it.
Her lips trembled. Body. Morgue. Funeral home. They were such harsh words. Harsh and alien and final. Suddenly the numbness that had kept her grief in check evaporated.
Burying her face in her hands, she allowed the tears to come.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
Sabrina listened to the words of the minister with the same stoic acceptance she’d worn for the past three days. Everything that had happened since her father’s fatal heart attack was a big, mixed-up blur in her mind.
Giving her mother the bad news. Making decisions about the viewing and the funeral. Notifying relatives and friends. Listening to all the expressions of sympathy on the phone and in person. Greeting everyone who came to the funeral home to pay their respects—hundreds and hundreds of people—a testament both to her family’s prominence in Rockwell—her mother had been a Rockwell before her marriage to Sabrina’s father—and to the fact that Ben March had been well liked by everyone.
And today, the funeral itself.
It seemed ironic to Sabrina that today should be such a beautiful one—crisp and cool, with a clear blue sky and golden sunshine gilding everything it touched. People weren’t supposed to be buried on a day like this. Burials should take place on dark, gloomy, rainy days.
The minister dribbled a handful of dirt over the bronze coffin. “Benjamin Arthur March, we commit your earthly remains to…”
Sabrina tuned out the rest of the words. They were meaningless. Nothing anyone said would change a thing. Her father was dead.
She wished she were anywhere else but here. She didn’t want to remember her father like this. Didn’t want to see his coffin lowered into the ground. Didn’t want to believe she would never see him again.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of crying since those few minutes in the park.
What good would crying do?
Her father was gone. Never again would she see his smile. Never again would he bring his optimism and good humor home. Never again would she feel the comfort and support of his strength.
Oh, Daddy, what will I do without you?
Next to her, her mother stirred. Sabrina glanced sideways. Isabel’s profile was calm and dignified, her chin raised, her posture straight.
“Rockwells don’t air their emotions in public,” she’d said more times than Sabrina could count.
Resentment bubbled inside. Her mother hadn’t broken down once. Not once. Not even when Sabrina had given her the news, a fact that had shocked Sabrina and made her wonder if her mother had ever loved her father. Then she felt guilty. She knew she shouldn’t judge her mother simply because Isabel didn’t show her grief the way Sabrina showed hers.
It wasn’t just that her mother was a Rockwell and felt she had a certain position to live up to. Isabel had never been able to show her love easily. Some people were like that. They held their emotions inside, unable to share them. It didn’t mean they didn’t feel them.
Only once had Sabrina ever seen her mother lose control. It was a memory long buried, but today it surfaced and Sabrina remembered how, as a twelve-year-old, she had heard her parents arguing.
She’d been upstairs in her room studying and the raised voices had drawn her to the top of the stairs. Ben and Isabel had been in the library—which was on the first floor near the stairway—and the door had been partially open. Neither had noticed, so caught up in the storm of emotion that their usual caution when Sabrina was nearby had been forgotten.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I give you a divorce,” her mother had been saying.
Sabrina had gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Divorce! No! Not her parents. They couldn’t get a divorce.
“Isabel, be reasonable,” her father said. “Whatever love we once felt for each other is gone, and you know it.”
“Rockwells do not divorce.”
“Just to save face, you’d rather be miserable the rest of your life, is that it?”
“Who says I’ll be miserable?” her mother had shot back. Then she’d stalked out, heading for the stairs, and Sabrina had scrambled to get back to her room before her mother discovered her listening.
That night Sabrina’s father hadn’t been home for dinner, and the next day her mother had left for a skiing trip. The skiing trip where she’d had the disastrous accident that had so affected the rest of her life.
From that day on, Sabrina’s father had been a devoted husband. No one would ever have known the March marriage had been on the brink of dissolving, not from Ben’s actions and certainly not from Isabel’s. In fact, over the years, Sabrina had often wondered if she’d imagined that whole scene in the library.
Today, though, she knew she hadn’t. No, her father’s patience with, compassion for and devotion to her mother had been his penance. For Sabrina knew he’d blamed himself for the accident, even though he hadn’t been there and hadn’t caused the accident physically.
Nevertheless, she was sure he felt responsible, because if her mother hadn’t been so upset, she wouldn’t have been foolhardy enough to ignore the warnings and ski in conditions that were less than favorable.
Sabrina sighed. It wasn’t right to judge her mother. Until you walked in another’s shoes, you couldn’t know how you would behave in similar circumstances.
Dad wouldn’t want me to be bitter toward her, she thought. If he were here right now, he’d tell me he was depending on me to be understanding and kind, that Mom will need me now more than ever.
As that realization sank in, Sabrina could feel the weight of the future pressing down upon her. Now she could never leave the newspaper. Never try something different. Never have a life of her own.

After the last of the food had been eaten and all the guests had finally gone home, Leland Fox, her parents’ longtime friend and the family’s lawyer, asked if they were up to going over Ben’s will.
“If you’re too tired today, we can do it another day,” he said gently, smiling down at Isabel.
“No, let’s get it over with.”
Sabrina would have preferred to wait, but the decision was her mother’s, so she settled herself in a chair and waited for Leland to dig the will out of his briefcase.
“I’ll just go give Florence a hand in the kitchen,” Sabrina’s Aunt Irene said. She smiled at Sabrina, then left the room.
There were no surprises in the will. The family home had belonged to Isabel’s parents. After their death, she had bought out Frank’s and Irene’s shares, so the house was already in her name. Her and Ben’s bank accounts and investments were held jointly with survivorship benefits. As for Ben’s company, Sabrina and Isabel already held twenty-four percent of the stock apiece. Of the remaining fifty-two percent, eighteen percent belonged to Bob Culberson, Ben’s general manager, and thirty-four percent was in Ben’s name with the provision that upon his death, any stock held by him would be divided equally between Isabel and Sabrina.
In addition, there were two cash bequests: one to Florence and one to Jennifer Loring, Sabrina’s cousin and the daughter of Irene.
For a few moments, Leland discussed the logistics of transferring money and stock, then he kissed Isabel goodbye and Sabrina walked him to the front door.
As he was putting on his coat, he dropped his voice and said, “Sabrina, could you stop by my office in the morning? I need to see you about a private matter.”
“Of course.” She wanted to question him, but she could see he didn’t want her mother to know about this, so she only said, “What time?”
“Ten?”
“All right.” Standing in the open doorway, she watched as he got into his car and drove off. What could he want that couldn’t be said in front of her mother? A bequest, perhaps, that her father wanted kept secret? That seemed unlikely, but it was all she could think of.
For the rest of the day, as she helped Florence clean up after their guests, as she tended to her mother and helped get her ready for bed, and as she finally had some time to herself and was able to take a soothing bath before climbing into bed in her old room—she was staying at her mother’s for a few days—she thought about Leland Fox’s request and wondered what it involved.
The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over and her mother and aunt were ensconced in the sunroom with a pot of tea and their knitting, Sabrina said she had some errands to run and would be back for lunch. She kissed her mother’s cool cheek with only a twinge of guilt.
She arrived at Leland’s office, conveniently located next to the courthouse in the town square, ten minutes early.
“He’ll be with you shortly,” said Betty Treehorne, his longtime secretary.
Sabrina settled herself on to one of the burgundy leather sofas. Less than five minutes later she was ushered into his office.
“Have a seat, my dear,” Leland said. He stood—a tall man with dark hair turning gray and friendly blue eyes—until she was seated in one of the chairs flanking his desk. Only then did he sit, too. “How are you holding up?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Okay.”
“And your mother?”
“She’s doing all right. Aunt Irene is going to stay for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s good. The next months are going to be hard for you both.”
His kind face was almost Sabrina’s undoing. But she fought the tears that hovered and managed to subvert them.
“Well…” He seemed at a loss. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come to the office.”
Sabrina waited.
He opened a file that lay on his desk and removed an envelope. “Your father left this letter in my safe-keeping. He asked me to give it to you should anything happen to him.”
Sabrina’s hands shook as she reached for the letter. Her heart felt as if it might burst. Her father had written her a farewell. It was so like him to know how much she would need to know he had been thinking about her and wanting to ease her grief.
She didn’t open the letter in Leland’s office. Instead, she headed for the park, thinking that would be a fitting place to read her father’s final message to her. Even after arriving and settling on their favorite bench next to the rose garden, she didn’t open the envelope.
She looked at the seal, looked at her father’s hand-writing—the bold letters and black ink. She traced the letters with her finger, then held the envelope close to her heart for a long moment.
Then, with a tremulous smile, she put her index finger under the sealed flap and slit it open.

Chapter Two
The letter was dated November, two years earlier.
Dearest Sabrina, she read.
Her father went on to say how much he loved her and how sorry he was to cause her pain, but there was something important she needed to know.
This is hard for me to write, and I know it will be painful for you to read. There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just say it. Six years ago I fell in love with a woman I met while conducting a tour in Italy.
I couldn’t seem to help myself. I knew she would never keep seeing me if she knew I was married, so I pretended I wasn’t. I told her I had been, but I was divorced. I told her my name was Ben Arthur. She had no idea I owned the tour company. I told her I was a consultant who worked for a dozen different companies, both in the U.S. and abroad.
After we’d been seeing each other for almost a year and she began to press for a permanent commitment, I tried, but I couldn’t give her up, so we were married in Las Vegas and honeymooned in Italy.

Sabrina gasped.
Married!
He couldn’t mean that. Her father was already married to her mother. How could he marry someone else?
She and I have had two children together. Sabrina, I know how this must shock and hurt you, but please believe me when I say that what I feel for Glynnis and our children takes nothing away from what I feel for you. You are my first and will always be the beloved child of my heart. But I love little Michael and Olivia, too, and I know you will love them as much as I do after you get to know them. As I write this, Michael is three and a half, and Olivia is just a month old.
If you are reading this, I am dead, and there will be no one else to take care of some things that must be taken care of. I could have asked Leland to do them for me, but it’s going to be painful enough for Glynnis to discover not only that she’s a widow but the truth about our marriage, so I was hoping you could find it in your heart to go and see her and tell her everything in person.
Sabrina read the letter three times before it really sank in. Her father was a bigamist. The man she’d admired and respected and thought so honest and upright and loyal and straight was a liar. He had betrayed her mother and her and everyone they knew.
How had he gotten away with this for so long? How had he managed to keep each family a secret from each other as well as everyone else? In this day and age, with cell phones and e-mail and the Internet, how had he continued to keep his two lives separate?
She stared into space for a long time. It was only when a squirrel scampered across the path, startling the pigeons that were scavenging for food, that she was jerked out of her painful thoughts and she once more picked up the letter to finish reading it.
The letter ended with contact information for both Glynnis and her twin brother Gregg. Sabrina was startled to see that they lived only a couple of hours away, just north of Columbus. Somehow she’d envisioned her father’s second life as taking place far from Rockwell.
Maybe you would prefer going to Gregg and telling him the truth and letting him break the news to Glynnis. Yes, this might be the best way.
Sabrina, please tell your mother that I am sorry about the scandal this will cause. I know how much her position in the town and her social circle matters to her.
Dear heaven, Sabrina thought. Even worse than confronting her father’s other family would be breaking this news to her mother, for Sabrina had no illusions about Isabel’s reaction. Her mother might not have loved her father the way Sabrina did, but she cared very much about her reputation. In fact, her standing in the town was probably the most important thing in her life. She would be devastated.
I am so sorry for the hurt I know you are feeling. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to happen.
Although all Sabrina wanted to do was tear up the letter and put the whole nasty business out of her mind, she knew she couldn’t do that. Those two small children—her half brother and half sister—were blameless in this affair. And now that she was over the initial shock, she had to admit, she was curious. What kind of woman was this Glynnis? Young and sexy, Sabrina imagined in disgust. Probably a curvy blonde with a Marilyn Monroe voice.
Daddy, how could you do this to us?
The pain she’d tried to quell hit her then, so swift and hard it was like a kick in the stomach. Her father said he loved her, but if he’d really loved her, he could not have done this awful thing. Marrying this, this Glynnis person, was a betrayal of everything he’d stood for.
Blindly she shoved the envelope into her handbag and stood. As she started on the path leading to the parking lot and her car, clouds moved across the sun, plunging the afternoon into darkness.
A darkness that was echoed in her heart.

Sabrina drove straight back to Leland Fox’s office. She could see by the expression on his face that he had known the contents of the letter.
“How long have you known?” she asked.
“About six months.”
Sabrina couldn’t imagine why he had kept her father’s secret. Leland and Isabel had grown up together. He had always been more her friend than Ben’s. You’d think he’d have felt more loyalty toward her. She glared at him. But as quickly as her anger had come, it disappeared. None of this was Leland’s fault.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. His eyes were kind.
“I guess I have no choice. I’ll have to go see this woman and tell her about Dad’s death.”
He nodded sympathetically. “When you return, I’ll help you break the news to your mother.”
“You think I should wait before telling her?”
“There’s no hurry, is there?”
Sabrina looked down at her lap. Leland was right. There was no hurry. Nothing would change whether she told her mother today or two weeks from now. In fact, it would be easier to wait until her mother was feeling stronger and over the shock of her father’s death. She looked up, meeting Leland’s eyes. “No, there’s no hurry. And I’d be grateful for your help when I tell my mother.”
Because she needed some time before facing her mother, Sabrina stopped at the office of The Rockwell Record on the way home.
Johnny Fiore, the sports editor who also handled school news and obituaries, looked up from his desk as she entered the newsroom. “Sabrina, how are you?” He stood up to give her a hug.
“I’m okay.”
“We didn’t expect you back till next week.”
“I’m not here to work. I just stopped in to see how everything’s going.”
“She thinks we can’t do without her,” Kelsey Finnegan, the lifestyle/society/entertainment editor said, grinning at Sabrina.
“We can’t. Things are falling apart without you here.” This came from Vicki Barrows, the office manager/bookkeeper.
Sabrina smiled. She knew they were trying to lift her spirits, and for a moment, they had. “I just want to take a look at my calendar, then I’ve got to go, but I’ll be here on Monday.”
As she sat at her desk surrounded by familiar things, she felt herself growing calmer. Because she’d said she was going to, she checked her calendar and saw that she’d set up an appointment with one of their suppliers for the next morning. She buzzed for Vicki. “You’ll have to cancel tomorrow’s appointment with Jake Evans. Tell him I’ll call him to reschedule next week.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“Maybe you could ask Bert to cover the city council meeting.” The Rockwell political scene was an area Sabrina had refused to give up, even as managerial responsibilities had pushed aside all other reporting duties.
“Sure thing.”
“How’s the ad count look?” Like most newspapers, advertising revenue dictated The Record’s size and provided most of its operating funds.
“As of the same date last year, we’re up twenty-two percent.”
Sabrina felt a surge of pride. They were having a banner year, due in large part to the hard work of Jan Kellogg, the new advertising manager Sabrina had hired in March.
Once all work-related details were taken care of, Sabrina logged on to the Internet and researched the town of Ivy, where Gregg Antonelli and his sister lived, and was pleased to discover a well-known chain motel located nearby. After making a reservation for the following night, Sabrina left the office and headed home.
On the way, all her worries came flooding back. How was she going to get through the rest of the day and all the ones to follow without raising her mother’s suspicions? Although, since her accident, Sabrina’s mother had been pretty self-involved, she was still fairly astute when it came to Sabrina and her emotions.
It was even harder than Sabrina had imagined to spend the afternoon and evening in her mother’s company without giving away her state of turmoil, but somehow she managed. She and her mother and aunt had lunch together, then Irene suggested Isabel might like to take a nap. “I know I would,” her aunt said.
To Sabrina’s relief, her mother agreed. While her mother and aunt rested, Sabrina kept her thoughts under control by spending the afternoon at the piano. Music had always been her escape, and today was no exception. She played all her old favorites—Chopin, Beethoven, Bach, Schubert, with a sprinkling of Scott Joplin thrown in.
That night, Sabrina was extremely grateful for her aunt’s presence at dinner. Irene kept the conversational ball rolling, something Sabrina knew she would not have been able to do if Irene hadn’t been there.
Toward the end of the meal, Sabrina said as casually as she could, “Mom, tomorrow I have to go to Columbus to research a story.”
Isabel stared at her. “So soon? Can’t someone else do it?”
“No, I’m afraid not. This man…he’s a whistle blower…” Oh, God, she hated lying. “And he only agreed to talk to me. It’s really important or I wouldn’t go. But you’ll be okay. Aunt Irene and Florence are both here. And I’ll only be gone one day.”
Her mother looked as if she wanted to protest some more, but Irene forestalled her by saying, “It’ll be good for Sabrina to get away, Isabel. And it’ll give us a chance to go through Ben’s clothes. You did say you wanted me to help you do that before I leave.”
Isabel nodded reluctantly.
Sabrina smiled at her aunt, who reached over and patted her hand.
The following morning, Sabrina was on her way by eight. By eleven, she was pulling her Expedition into the parking lot of the motel. Luckily they had a room ready for her. After unpacking her few things, Sabrina sat on the side of the bed and reached for the phone. Her father’s contact information for Gregg Antonelli was at his place of business—an Italian restaurant that he owned. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina punched in the numbers.

Gregg Antonelli told himself not to lose his temper, but there were times when Joe Ruggerio, his chef, tried Gregg’s patience to the point where he’d like nothing better than to tell Joe to take a hike. Joe was the best chef Gregg had ever had, yet sometimes the problems he created simply didn’t seem worth the benefits. Today was one of those days.
Gregg counted to ten. “Look, Joe, this has got to stop. Billy’s a hard worker. I don’t want to lose him.”
The expression on Joe’s florid face could only be described as a smirk.
Gregg’s jaw hardened. “I mean it. I want you to give me your word you’ll quit riding him.”
“Hey, if he can’t take the heat, he should get out of the kitchen!” Enamored of his own joke, Joe grinned and winked at Pedro, their dishwasher and Joe’s lackey.
Gregg was about to say something he’d probably regret when Lisa, the head of the wait staff, entered the kitchen.
“Gregg, phone call for you,” she said.
Saved by the bell, he thought, for if he’d given vent to his feelings, he wouldn’t have had to fire Joe. The temperamental chef would have walked out. That was the crux of the problem. Great chefs were difficult to find, especially when you couldn’t afford to pay top dollar, and Joe knew it.
Suppressing a tired sigh, Gregg headed for his minuscule office and punched the blinking line. “Gregg Antonelli.”
“Um, yes. Mr. Antonelli?”
Gregg didn’t recognize the female voice. “Yes,” he said patiently. “This is Gregg Antonelli. How can I help you, ma’am?”
“Mr. Antonelli, my name is Sabrina March.”
Gregg waited. The name meant nothing to him.
“I’m a, um, relative of Ben Arthur, who gave me your name. I know you don’t know me, but it’s very important that I talk to you about some urgent business. I’m only here in town for one day and was hoping we could meet this afternoon or evening.”
Gregg frowned. He hadn’t been aware that his sister’s husband had any relatives. In fact, if he remembered correctly, Ben had specifically said he had no close family to speak of. So who the hell was this woman and what could she possibly want?
“If Ben gave you my name and this number, then you know I own a restaurant. I’ll be tied up until at least ten-thirty tonight. But if you don’t mind coming here, say, between eight-thirty and nine, I could meet with you then. That’s when business begins to slow down, and if you like, we could have a late dinner together while we talk.”
“Thank you. That sounds fine. Could you give me directions from the Comfort Inn?”
After they’d hung up, Gregg sat at his desk for a long moment. This woman must be on the up-and-up. How else would she know about him and his relationship to Glynnis? But what possible business could she have? Gregg wished he could talk to Ben before meeting with her, but Ben was away on one of his numerous trips and wasn’t due back for another three days. Gregg supposed he could try to raise Ben on his cell phone. Quickly he looked up the number and called it, but all it yielded was Ben’s voice mail.
“Hey, Ben, this is Gregg. If you get this message before eight tonight, give me a call. It’s important.”
Gregg wondered if he should call Glynnis next and see if she had any clue as to who this woman could be, but for some reason, he hesitated to do so. For one thing, his sister was a worrier. For another, his niece was suffering with an ear infection and Glynnis hadn’t been getting a whole lot of sleep the past few days. For all he knew, she was napping along with the kids.
It was always tough on her when Ben was traveling, which was most of the time. Gregg’s frown deepened. He had not been happy when Glynnis married Ben. Even if the man hadn’t been nearly twenty years older than his sister, his frequent absences and his tendency to want to keep Glynnis to himself would have been enough to turn Gregg off. He’d always believed his sister could have done much better, but ever since she’d married Ben she’d seemed happy, so Gregg had kept his opinions to himself. He remembered only too well what had happened the last time he’d meddled in her love life.
Throughout the day, Gregg found himself thinking of the upcoming meeting whenever there was any kind of break in the action. Not that there were many. Antonelli’s had always been popular with the lunch crowd, but for the past year—ever since a big computer software company had relocated its offices in the office complex a half mile down the road—they’d had a packed house every weekday.
When it finally slowed around two in the afternoon, the kitchen staff had all they could do to prepare for the evening meal, which started as early as five. In the afternoons, Gregg usually helped out in the kitchen because it wasn’t only good chefs that were hard to come by. It was hard to find good help, period.
Today he worked on the salad line, cutting carrots and onions, which Maggie, the sous-chef, added to the torn pieces of romaine lettuce she’d arranged on the salad plates. They usually tried to plate at least fifty salads for the evening. Anything left over could be used at lunch the next day. A couple of sliced tomatoes would be added to the salads just before serving, because they did best if they weren’t cut beforehand. There was nothing Gregg hated more than cold, mushy tomatoes on a salad.
In fact, he wouldn’t tolerate that kind of sloppiness in his restaurant. He took pride in the fact that at Antonelli’s they used the best and freshest possible ingredients available and that their salads had been given a high rating from the food editor of the local newspaper.
People who knew nothing about the restaurant business thought it was glamorous. Gregg himself had thought the same thing before he’d actually worked in one. There was nothing glamorous about it at all. It was extremely hard work, and half the startups didn’t survive. Antonelli’s had had a couple of rough years—years in which Gregg wasn’t sure he’d make it, either—but a combination of hard work, informed planning, consistently good food, and luck had pulled him through.
Now Antonelli’s was thriving.
But its success had come at a personal cost to Gregg. As always, when his thoughts turned to Lynn, his former fiancée, he felt a twinge of regret. They’d dated a couple of years and had been engaged another eighteen months before she’d called it quits a year ago. She’d said she could deal with a rival if the rival was female, but there was no way she was going to spend the rest of her life competing with a restaurant for his time and attention.
Gregg hadn’t tried to change her mind. He’d loved Lynn, yes, but not enough to give up the business he’d worked so hard to build.
Not enough. Those were the key words, he guessed. At least that’s what Glynnis had said.
“Hey, boss, you gonna work or you gonna daydream?” Maggie said, poking him.
Gregg blinked, then grinned. “Sorry.” He began to stack the salads on racks that would slide into one of the big refrigerators.
After that, the day passed quickly. So quickly that before Gregg knew it, it was eight o’clock. He alerted Janine, their evening hostess, that he was expecting a guest and asked her to buzz him in his office when the March woman arrived.
On the dot of eight-thirty, Janine said his visitor was there.
Too curious to wait, Gregg abandoned the supply order he’d been working on and walked out front. He saw the woman immediately. Janine had seated her in one of the alcoves, as Gregg had requested. The woman hadn’t seen him yet; she was looking out the window, so he had a chance to study her for a few moments.
She was pretty and younger than she’d sounded on the phone—probably in her middle twenties. She wore her dark, chin-length hair swept back from her face and caught up in the back with some kind of silver clip. She was dressed simply, in black slacks and a wine-colored sweater. A black leather jacket was draped across the back of her chair.
As he got closer, she turned, and their eyes met. Hers were large and gray—beautiful eyes, he thought—and filled with an emotion he couldn’t identify. He frowned. What was it? Concern? Uncertainty? Fear? Whatever it was, it only reinforced his own uneasiness over the reason for her appearance in Ivy.
“Miss March? I’m Gregg Antonelli.” He held out his hand, and she took it. Her hand felt cool, and her handshake was firm.
“Hi. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
He liked her voice. It was much softer than it had seemed on the phone. Gregg sat down across from her and beckoned to Chris, who waited on this section. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I don’t think so, thank you.”
“What about dinner? You were still planning to eat with me?”
“Yes, I’d love to.” She looked around. “This is a very nice restaurant.”
“Thanks. We’ve done well.”
Picking up the menu, she studied it for a moment, then said, “What do you recommend?”
“Depends what you like. Pasta? Chicken? Veal?”
She put the menu down and for the first time, she smiled. “I’m a pasta person.”
“Then I recommend the combination ravioli and tortellini. That’s our specialty. My personal preference is the marinara sauce, but we do offer it with a cheese sauce, if you’d prefer that.”
“That sounds good. With the marinara sauce.”
Gregg turned to Chris. “We’ll both have the ravioli and tortellini, and I’ll have a glass of the house Chianti. And the lady will have…?”
“Iced tea, please.”
Within moments Chris had brought them a basket of warm focaccia bread and a plate of seasoned olive oil for dipping, followed by their drinks. All the while he was serving them, Gregg studied Sabrina March. She was a small woman, with narrow wrists and slender arms. He’d bet, standing, she wouldn’t reach five feet four inches. She had a small, heart-shaped face which, along with those expressive gray eyes, made her seem vulnerable, yet her voice and mannerisms and the way she met his gaze squarely suggested self-confidence. It was an intriguing mix that he found especially attractive.
When Chris left them to get their salads, Gregg said, “Tell me, Miss March, just how are you related to Ben?”
She reached for a piece of bread, hesitated, then said, “I’d rather explain why I’m here first.”
Gregg tensed at the evasive answer, certain now that he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.
“First of all, please call me Sabrina.”
“All right, if you’ll call me Gregg.”
She put down her piece of bread. Leaning forward, she fixed those big eyes on him. “I just want you to know that I hate having to bring you this kind of news.”
“What news?”
She spoke slowly. “The man you know as Ben Arthur is dead. He died last Thursday.”
“What?” Gregg stared at her. “That can’t be true.”
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid it is true.”
“And just what do you mean by the man you know as Ben Arthur?”
“His…his name is really Ben March. Benjamin Arthur March.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull—”
“I’m not trying to pull anything,” she cried. “I’m telling you the truth.”
She reached for her handbag and pulled out a wallet. Removing two laminated cards, she handed them to him. They were both Ohio driver’s licenses. Her picture was on the first card. Sabrina Isabel March. An address in Rockwell, Ohio. And Ben’s picture was on the second. Benjamin Arthur March. With another Rockwell address.
Gregg felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. What the hell was going on here?
“Mr. Antonelli…Gregg,” she continued softly, “I’m so sorry.” She sighed deeply. “You asked me how I’m related to…Ben. Ben March is…was…my father.”
“Your father,” he said dully.
“Yes.”
“But—”
“I know, he never said anything about having a daughter. Obviously, there were a lot of things he didn’t tell you.”
Gregg didn’t know what to think. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he tell us about you? I mean, he told my sister he was divorced. And why use a different name? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know. The thing is, when my father met your sister, he wasn’t divorced. He was still married. To my mother.”
As she continued to explain, Gregg learned that Ben had never divorced his wife. That his wife…Sabrina’s mother…still lived. That his marriage to Glynnis was not valid. That Ben was a bigamist.
Gregg was speechless. How was he going to tell Glynnis? It would have been hard enough to tell her Ben was dead, but this! This would kill her. Shock gave way to fury as the truth finally sank in. Damn Ben. Damn his very soul. Glynnis didn’t deserve this. Gregg hoped Ben burned in hell.
“I’m so sorry,” Sabrina said again. “I know how you feel, because I feel the same way. I just couldn’t believe it when I read my dad’s letter.”
“That’s how you found out? Through a letter?” Gregg asked. He didn’t try to disguise his scorn.
“Yes. He’d given the letter to our attorney with instructions to give it to me in the event of his death.”
“How did he die?” At this point, Gregg didn’t really care, but he knew Glynnis would want to know.
“He had a heart attack. We…we were walking in the park in the town where…where we live…and he collapsed. The emergency personnel tried to save him, but it was too late.” Her eyes glistened.
Oh, hell. He hoped she wasn’t going to cry. He had enough to handle right now without a weepy woman on his hands. But though he told himself this, he felt bad. She was as much a victim in this mess as Glynnis was.
Then their food arrived, and they didn’t talk until Chris had finished serving them and walked away. By then she’d gotten herself under control again.
“Does your mother know about this?” Gregg asked.
“No. I haven’t told her yet.” She looked away. “It’s going to be one of the hardest things I’ll ever have to do.”
Yeah. He knew exactly what she meant.
She picked up her fork. Speared a tortellini. Then she put the fork down again. “I’m sorry. The food looks wonderful, but I no longer have any appetite.”
“I know.” Gregg’s appetite had gone south, too. “But you need to eat. Come on.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Is…is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”
“Nothing I can think of right now.”
“Well, if you do think of something…” She reached for her handbag again. This time she withdrew a business card. “That’s where I work. You can call me there anytime. If I’m not in, call my cell phone number.”
After she left, Gregg debated whether to go and see Glynnis immediately or wait until morning to break the news. He decided to wait. He might as well allow his sister to have one more peaceful night before she had to find out the sordid truth.
Besides, he couldn’t face telling her tonight. He hadn’t completely digested the news himself, plus he was tired. It had been a long and busy day.
And Glynnis was going to need him to be strong. Best to get a good night’s sleep himself so he wouldn’t let her down when she needed him most.

Chapter Three
Sabrina couldn’t get Gregg Antonelli out of her mind. She hadn’t expected to like him; she certainly hadn’t expected to sympathize with him, but she had. She did.
He had a terrible job in front of him. It wouldn’t be easy telling his sister what he’d learned. Yet although Sabrina had only met the man tonight, she could tell he was equal to the task. Strength and confidence were written all over him. He was the type of man who would face any crisis head-on. He was also the type of man women gravitated toward.
Sabrina wondered if he was involved with anyone. For some reason, she didn’t think he was married. Why, she couldn’t have said. It was just a feeling she had. Besides, he hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring. Funny how she’d noticed.
Oh, come on, admit it. You were attracted to him. Of course you noticed.
It was discomfiting to admit it, because under the circumstances, her reaction to Gregg Antonelli was totally inappropriate.
Forget about him, she told herself. He’ll do what he has to do, and you’ll do what you have to do, and you’ll probably never see him again.
Deliberately, she turned her thoughts to her mother and the best way to approach the coming ordeal.

The next morning, Gregg rose early. He showered and shaved, drank his coffee, then picked up the phone. Glynnis was a stay-at-home mother, but she was a morning person, so even though it was only seven-thirty, Gregg knew she’d be up. In this they were alike.
Truth was, in most things they were alike. The only thing noticeably different about them was their appearance. He looked like their father; she resembled their mother. Gregg’s hair was a medium brown. Her hair was a reddish-blond. His eyes were blue, hers were hazel. They were both tall, but there the physical similarity ended.
The surface differences meant nothing, though. They had always been close, always been able to tell what the other was feeling without words.
They’d faced tough stuff before. The death of their parents had been especially difficult. But they’d never faced anything like this. This was the worst.
Quit stalling. He punched in the code for her home. It rang twice.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning.”
“I love this caller ID.”
In the background he could hear the children. “Kids are up already, huh?”
“Oh, yes. Lately they’ve been getting up before seven.”
“Guess they’re going to be morning people, too.”
She chuckled. “Until they hit their teens, anyway. So, bro, what’s on your mind so early this morning?”
“I was thinking maybe you’d feed me breakfast.”
“Sure. The kids’ll love to see their Uncle Gregg. Well, I will, too. What would you like? Waffles? Scrambled eggs and biscuits?”
“Waffles sounds good.”
“Waffles it is, then. Are you coming now?”
“Be there in fifteen minutes.”
Driving over to Glynnis’s house, Gregg couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen to his sister now. With two little kids to raise on her own, her life wouldn’t be easy. At least she wouldn’t be penniless. Gregg knew Ben had taken out an insurance policy shortly after they were married. But it wasn’t a huge policy. If she had to live on it, it wouldn’t last five years.
He frowned as a thought struck him.
What if the insurance company wouldn’t honor the policy because her marriage to Ben wasn’t legal? Could they do that?
No. He was sure they couldn’t. Anyone could be the beneficiary of an insurance policy. You didn’t even have to be related to the person who’d died.
She’d get the money.
And then another thought left him cold. What name had Ben used on the policy? His real one? Or the name he used to marry Glynnis? Gregg made a mental note to call his lawyer as soon as he got back to the restaurant. He had a feeling they were going to need him.
Even if the insurance thing was okay, Glynnis would still have to go back to work a lot sooner than she’d expected. Gregg knew she’d been planning to teach again when Olivia, her youngest, started school. But Olivia was barely two years old. It was going to be hard for Glynnis to leave her. Michael was five and more independent. He had started kindergarten this year, so day care afterward probably wouldn’t faze him.
Briefly Gregg wondered if Ben had left Glynnis anything else. He’d always been vague about his business affairs, and since he and Gregg had not been close, Gregg wasn’t sure what Ben’s financial situation had been. There’d always seemed to be plenty of money, though, and now that Gregg knew the truth of Ben’s situation, he realized Ben must have been fairly well-off if he was supporting two households.
Had he been, though?
Or was Sabrina’s mother a successful career woman herself? Damn. Why hadn’t he asked Sabrina more questions last night? He didn’t even know if she was Ben’s only other child. For all Gregg knew she could have brothers and sisters.
Jeez. What a mess.
Furious again, he pounded the steering wheel. What had possessed Ben to do what he had? Even though Gregg hadn’t been thrilled by the marriage, he could have sworn Ben really loved Glynnis. Why hadn’t he just divorced Sabrina’s mother? Why the lies that were going to cause so many people so much pain?
But there were no answers to these questions, because the only person who knew the answers was dead. Now all that was left to do was clean up the mess Ben had left behind.

When Sabrina got back to Rockwell, she decided to go to her apartment rather than straight back to her parents’ home—no—she had to quit thinking of it as her parents’ home. It was now solely her mother’s home.
At the realization, a fresh wave of sadness flooded her. No matter how hurt she was by her father’s duplicity, nothing changed the fact that she had loved him. She would always love him, no matter what he’d done. And she knew he had felt the same way about her.
He would have forgiven me anything, and I need to forgive him.
Pulling into the covered parking slot behind her back door, she could feel some of the stress of the past few days begin to lessen. Her apartment always had this effect on her. From the moment she’d first seen it, she’d loved it. The apartment was located in a small complex near Rockwell University—on the opposite side of town from where her parents lived. Typical of areas around colleges, the neighborhood was trendy and popular with the younger residents of Rockwell.
Sabrina especially loved that she could walk to neighborhood shops and restaurants if she wanted to. One street over from hers had a movie theater, a bookstore, a coffee shop and a bakery. On weekend mornings, she loved to walk over to the bakery and buy fresh bagels or crusty rolls, then take them home to enjoy with a latte purchased from the coffee shop.
Her mother had fought Sabrina’s moving out of the family home, insisting there was plenty of room and it was ridiculous for her to pay rent when she practically had her own suite and all the privacy she could want right there. “It makes no sense at all.”
But Sabrina had been firm, saying, “Mother, I’m twenty-four years old. I’ve been out of college for nearly two years. It’s time to cut the cord.”
Her father had backed her up. “Everyone needs their own space, Isabel. We can’t keep Sabrina a child forever.”
That had been four years ago, and Sabrina had never been sorry she’d moved. Sure, it had been nice to have Florence waiting on her, doing her laundry, not having to buy food or pay rent, but those luxuries didn’t compare to the thrill of having her own place and the satisfaction of paying her own way.
Entering her apartment, she even breathed easier. It smelled a bit musty from being shut up for more than a week, and it needed cleaning, but it was hers. Every stick of furniture was there because she’d chosen it and she’d paid for it. She had taken nothing from the family home, even though her mother had offered all the furniture in her bedroom and adjoining sitting room.
Isabel had turned up her nose at the inexpensive furniture and discount house accessories Sabrina had purchased, but Sabrina didn’t care. All the antiques and valuable objets d’art that filled the March home hadn’t been enough to make her mother happy. They certainly didn’t tempt Sabrina if it meant giving up her independence.
It was bad enough, she thought, that she was trapped in a job that no longer fulfilled her and shackled by duties and responsibilities she hadn’t asked for. Her apartment was her oasis, the only place where she felt at peace.
Sabrina had stopped at the mailboxes on her way into the complex, and now she sorted through her mail. There was nothing urgent—a few bills, a few pieces of junk mail and her newest copy of Vanity Fair.
She then headed for her bedroom. After changing clothes and unpacking, she put a load of laundry in the washer, opened some windows to air the place out, and cleaned the refrigerator, getting rid of anything that looked as if it might be past its prime.
She debated calling the paper, then decided there was no reason to. If anything urgent came up, they would call her. Finally she could stall no longer and knew she had to decide what she was going to do when she finally did go to her mother’s.
Should she tell her mother everything today?
Or should she wait?

It was difficult for Gregg to pretend this was a normal visit with Glynnis and the children, but somehow he managed it while Michael was still there. But once Michael’s car pool came and he was off to kindergarten and Olivia was almost finished eating her breakfast, Gregg knew he could no longer put off telling Glynnis the bad news.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” He glanced over at Olivia, who had just stuffed a last piece of waffle and cut-up strawberry into her mouth. “Think you could set her up with a video in the playroom?”
Glynnis smiled. “Sure.” Turning to her daughter, she said, “Livvy, pumpkin, would you like to watch Dumbo?”
“Dumbo, Dumbo!” Olivia shouted, her hazel eyes—a mirror of her mother’s—shining.
She grinned at Gregg, who grinned back. His niece could always make him smile.
“I guess her earache is gone,” Glynnis said in wry amusement. “She’s gone back to her normal tone of voice. Loud.”
Gregg chuckled.
Once Glynnis had cleaned syrup off Olivia’s face and hands, Gregg took his niece out of her high chair and carried her into the playroom, which was on the other side of the kitchen. The builder had intended it to be a sunroom, but it made a perfect play area for the kids, with lots of light and proximity to the place where their mother spent a good portion of her time.
“I can be working in the kitchen and still keep a close eye on them,” she’d said happily. In fact, she’d admitted later that the sunroom was the top selling point when it came to making a decision about buying the house.
Once Olivia, surrounded by her stuffed animals, was settled on the floor in front of the TV, Gregg and Glynnis walked back into the kitchen, and she poured them each a fresh cup of coffee.
“Now, what’s on your mind?” she said, settling herself at the kitchen table. She reached for the sugar bowl and added two heaping teaspoons to her coffee. Sugar in her coffee was one of her few indulgences.
His heart ached at the unsuspecting smile on his sister’s face. She probably thought he had a problem at the restaurant, the kind of thing he usually wanted to discuss with her.
Girding himself, he made his voice gentle. “I’ve got some bad news, Glynnie. You’re going to have to be strong.”
The smile on her face slowly faded. She put her coffee cup down. “What is it?”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “There’s no easy way to tell you this.” The fear in her eyes made Gregg wish he could be anywhere else but there. “Ben is dead, Glynnie.”
Her hand jerked, but he held fast. She shook her head. “That…that can’t be. Wh-why would you say such a thing?”
“I’m so sorry. I wish it wasn’t true, but I’m afraid it is.”
“No.” She kept shaking her head. “No.”
“Glynnie, listen to me. It’s true. Ben had a heart attack last Thursday, and he died almost immediately.”
“Last Thursday! But…but where?” she cried. “How? I-I don’t understand. It can’t be true. Someone would have called me. It’s a mistake. It has to be. He’s not dead. Don’t you see? Someone would have called me, Gregg!” Her eyes pleaded with him to say it was all a big mix-up. “It’s true I haven’t heard from him, but that’s because he’s abroad. This is just a mistake.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not a mistake. Ben is dead.”
Suddenly she just dissolved. Her face crumpled, and tears welled in her eyes. “No,” she wailed. “No, no, no, no…”
Gregg wanted to cry himself. He got up and took her into his arms. Her body shook with sobs. From the playroom came the sounds of happy music and Olivia’s laughter.
When Glynnis finally calmed, he sat her down again and pulled his chair close to hers.
“How…how did you find out?” she asked tonelessly. “Did someone from the company he was working for call you or was it the Greek authorities? Are they shipping his body home?”
Gregg took her hand again. “No, it was nothing like that. Ben didn’t die in Greece. He died right here in Ohio.”
“Here in Ohio?”
“Yes. Look, I need to back up and start at the beginning. Okay?”
She nodded miserably.
If Gregg could have spared her this…but he couldn’t. He had to tell her everything. “Yesterday I got a call at work…”
As he talked, telling her about Sabrina, what she’d said, how she’d come to the restaurant last night, and what she’d revealed to him, he saw a host of emotions play across his sister’s face and in her eyes. Shock, disbelief, denial, anger and lastly, an almost tranquil acceptance.
She sat unmoving, staring sightlessly into space, silent for so long Gregg became uneasy.
Finally she stirred. “Poor Ben,” she said softly.
“Poor Ben?”
“He must have felt so desperate.” Glynnis’s eyes, swimming with tears, met his. “He loved me, Gregg. I’m as sure of that as I am of anything in my life. He would never purposely have hurt me. For him to be driven to something like this…obviously he felt he had no choice.”
Gregg wanted to tell her she was crazy to be defending him, but something about the look on her face stopped him. Ah, hell, he thought. If it made her feel better to think well of Ben, what harm was there in that?
“I know what you’re thinking. But I’m right, I know I am. Ben would never have done what he did if he wasn’t desperate.”
“Right now, his reasons don’t matter. What matters is the future. We need to talk about what you’re going to do. You’ll have to—”
“Does his…his other wife know?”
“She didn’t as of last night, but I think Ben’s daughter was going to tell her today.” This was strictly guesswork on Gregg’s part, for Sabrina had not said anything other than that her mother didn’t know the situation.
Glynnis wiped away her tears with her hands. “Do you know anything about her? The other wife?”
“No. I didn’t ask.”
“What about his daughter? What was she like? Did she look like Ben?”
“Not really. She has dark hair like he did, but she’s little and has gray eyes. She must look like her mother.”
“I—I can’t get over it. Michael and Olivia have a sister.” This was said with wonder.
“Half sister.”
Her gaze shot to his. “You hate Ben, don’t you?”
“No. I don’t hate him.” This was true. The emotion Gregg felt was stronger than hate, but there was no sense in telling her this and making her feel worse. “I hate what he did. I hate what this is doing to you. And what it’s going to do to the kids.”
She bowed her head. “I’m going to miss him so much.”
He could see how hard she was trying to keep herself under control. Ashamed of himself, he softened his voice. “Ah, Glynnie. You know I’ll do everything I can to make this easier—”
“I want to talk to her. Meet her.”
“Who? Sabrina?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care. I want to see her. I need to see her.”
When he still hesitated, she said, “Please, Gregg. Will you call her?”
He thought about the business card he’d left on his dresser. And he thought about how much he had liked Sabrina March.
He sighed. “All right, Glynnie. If it means that much to you, I’ll call her later today.”

After giving it much thought, Sabrina decided the easiest and kindest way she could break the news to her mother was to simply give her the letter her father had written. Taking the letter out again, she reread it and abruptly changed her mind. Better not to let her mother see the things her father had said about Glynnis and the children.
There’s not going to be an easy way out for you. You’re going to have to tell her yourself.
Once the decision was made, she realized there was no point in putting off the inevitable, so she called Leland Fox and asked him to meet her at her mother’s house at four o’clock.
Then she called her mother.
“Where are you?” There was a petulant note in her mother’s voice. “I thought you’d be back hours ago.”
“I did get back earlier, but I had some things that needed to be taken care of here at the apartment, and since I knew Aunt Irene was there with you…” Sabrina let her voice trail off and told herself not to get irritated. Her mother was under a lot of stress.
“You are going to be here for dinner, aren’t you? I told Florence you were.”
“Yes, of course, I am. In fact, I’ll be there in about an hour.”
A few minutes before four, Sabrina pulled into the driveway of the family home. She’d barely gotten the door open and was just stepping out of the car when Leland pulled in behind her.
“I’m dreading this,” he said. He looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Me, too.” Sabrina felt sorry for him. This wasn’t his problem. But she was terribly grateful for his presence. She had no idea how her mother was going to react, and Leland’s presence always had a calming effect.
“Leland! We didn’t know you were coming over,” Sabrina’s aunt said as they walked into the foyer. She looked bright and cheerful in a pink cashmere sweater set and dark wool skirt, but her smile faded at the expressions on their faces.
“Hello, Irene.” Leland smiled and gave her a hug. “How’re you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m all right.” Her voice lowered. “But there’s something’s wrong, isn’t there?” She looked worriedly from him to Sabrina.
Sabrina nodded grimly. “Yes. Where’s Mom?”
“In the sunroom. Do…do you want me to make myself scarce?”
“No, there’s something we have to tell her, but I think it’s a good idea for you to be there, too. We might need you.”
Sabrina’s mother, who was leafing through a magazine, looked up as the three of them entered the room. “Hello, Leland. I thought I heard your voice.” A rare smile softened her features.
“Hello, Isabel. How are you, my dear?” He bent down and kissed her.
“I’m fine.”
Sabrina’s heart ached. “Mom,” she began. “We—”
“Leland, would you like something to drink?” Isabel interrupted.
He shook his head and sat on one of the rattan armchairs nearest to her. He reached for her hand. She gave him a puzzled look but didn’t try to pull away.
“Mother,” Sabrina started again. “I asked Leland to come over today because there’s something we need to tell you.”
Isabel looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Something about the will?”
“No, not about the will,” Leland said.
“It’s… Dad left a letter for me in Leland’s safekeeping,” Sabrina said. “Leland gave it to me the day before yesterday.”

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