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A Family Likeness
Margot Dalton
Margot Dalton's creativity dazzles…–Bethany Campbell, bestselling author of See How They RunShe "sold" her baby…Fifteen years ago desperate circumstances had forced Gina Mitchell to do the unthinkable. Give up her baby daughter hours after the birth.Now Alex Colton–a man she's never met–has checked in to Gina's bed-and-breakfast with his rebellious teenage daughter. One look at the girl and Gina knows she can no longer escape her past.Alex is a good father, but he's never told his daughter the circumstances of her birth, and he has no idea that his child–Gina's child–is living a nightmare. A nightmare only her birth mother can end."Margot Dalton's creativity dazzles. She's a writer who always delivers probing characterization, ingenious plotting, riveting pace and impeccable craft. She can completely engage both the reader's mind and emotion. She's superb."–Bethany Campbell, bestselling author of See How They Run
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u1b64f16f-7669-55af-9e32-60e991a86521)
Excerpt (#u71ba6974-2936-591c-944a-cbdfc423569d)
About The Author (#ub365999b-0c62-5a4b-ab9a-8979c070bac4)
Title Page (#u2db3d484-edf9-5c49-9aa4-edd73ab58508)
CHAPTER ONE (#uda248c9a-6aaf-5860-949f-c7c79720cf11)
CHAPTER TWO (#u077fa7f2-4076-5a9c-8c55-db09b400e305)
CHAPTER THREE (#ua5ecac6f-62f1-5f31-85da-965c68f0b0c1)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2aff7180-9038-537a-b519-1f171b4bb714)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“Alex, I have something to tell
you about your daughter.
“I should have told you before, but I was…” Gina’s voice broke. She rummaged in the pocket of her jeans, took out her billfold and extracted a photograph from one of the side pockets. Wordlessly, she handed it to Alex.
He studied the smiling girl in the picture, his eyes widening. “It’s Steffi,” he said at last, then hesitated. “Isn’t it? She looks older.”
“It’s not Steffi. It’s my sister, Claudia, when she was Steffi’s age. You can see a difference in her mouth. Steffi has your mouth.”
“I don’t understand. How can they look so alike?”
“Because they’re related. Claudia is Steffi’s aunt”
“Her aunt? What are you saying, Gina?”
“I’m Steffi’s biological mother.…”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A Family Likeness, Margot Dalton’s sixteenth Superromance novel, is set in the Okanagan Valley, British Columbia, Canada, where the author has lived for the past seven years and been inspired by the spectacular beauty and natural wildness of her surroundings.
This bestselling author has also written seven books in Harlequin’s popular CRYSTAL CREEK series, two mainstream titles for MIRA Books, and has contributed to two anthologies.
A Family Likeness
Margot Dalton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_83f52616-34bf-5b2b-9599-2cc84329bb3c)
“NOW, LET’S SEE…it’s seven inches down to this little bunch of flowers, and four and a half inches up from the bottom…”
Gina made a pencil mark at one end of the strip of wallpaper stretched out on the floor, then crawled briskly over the hardwood, pencil clamped between her teeth, to make a corresponding mark farther down on the roll.
“Did I say four and a half inches?” she muttered, pausing to frown at the paper. “Or did I say four?”
“Who are you talking to?”
Gina glanced up at the doorway, then gestured toward the wall behind her. “Hi, Mary. Isn’t this pretty?”
Her housekeeper strolled into the room, wiping her hands on her apron, and looked at the strips of new wallpaper that partly framed an upholstered window seat.
“You were right,” she said in surprise. “I thought it was too yellow, but it looks really nice on the wall.”
“I knew it would. This paper is exactly what I wanted.”
“Listen to her,” Mary said indulgently. “The girl who always knows what she wants. You’re too young to be talking to yourself.”
Gina crawled back around to measure the strip again. “Four and a half inches,” she said. “I thought so.”
Mary dabbed with her dishcloth at a tiny soiled patch near the edge of the window seat. “I’ve got to find the time to clean all these before the summer rush,” she murmured.
“Now you’re doing it.” Gina held the ruler in place to make a pencil line, then started cutting.
“Doing what?”
“Talking to yourself.”
“I’m sixty years old,” Mary said placidly, smiling and looking out the window as a pair of white butterflies danced an aerial ballet near the lilacs. “I can talk to myself anytime I want.”
“Well, I’ll be thirty-six next week.”
Gina rolled the strip of wallpaper and plunged it into a narrow plastic trough. She stood erect, holding the dripping sheet of paper over the trough, and glanced at the other woman.
“You know, Mary,” she said, “there are times when I can hardly believe it.”
“What?” Mary sat down on the window seat, fingering the yellow chintz upholstery with a dreamy faraway look.
“That I’m almost thirty-six years old. Where have all the years gone? It seems like yesterday that I bought this place.”
“There’ve been a lot of yesterdays,” Mary said in her gentle voice. “And you’re right, they’re really flying by.”
“Well, I guess that means we’re having fun, right?” Gina said dryly. “Even though it doesn’t always feel like it.”
“You love this place,” Mary said.
Gina carried the wet length of paper across the room and climbed the ladder. She frowned in concentration as she fitted the strip into place, matching the pattern carefully. “You’re right,” she said. “This was the only thing I ever wanted to do with my life. But that doesn’t mean I don’t find it pretty frustrating sometimes.”
She took a sponge from the tray on the step-ladder and began to smooth the paper. Mary asked, “The only thing?”
“Beg pardon?” Gina was still wiping briskly at the damp paper.
“Gina, you’ve got a big wrinkle there on the edge, right under that yellow basket.”
Gina smoothed the wallpaper while Mary watched her with a thoughtful eye. “I just wondered,” the housekeeper went on, leaning back against the broad oak window frame, “whether that’s really true. I mean, that running this business is the only thing you ever wanted.”
“Of course it’s true. What else have I ever wanted to do?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
Gina’s face shadowed and she turned away quickly. “If you mean a husband and babies, I’ve never wanted them. You and Roger are my family.”
Mary smiled. “Some family,” she said.
“It makes me happy.” Gina climbed down from the ladder to smooth the bottom of the wallpaper, then trimmed it above the wide baseboard. “Families come in all shapes and sizes, you know.”
“I know.” Mary got to her feet and headed for the door. “But you and me and Roger, we’re a mighty strange family by anyone’s standards.”
Still kneeling at the baseboard, Gina looked over her shoulder. “Speaking of Roger, don’t forget to tell him about that cracked toilet seat in the blue room, all right?”
Mary’s cheeks turned pink with distress. “You’ll have to tell him yourself,” she said. “I’m still not speaking to him.”
Gina sighed and got to her feet. “Now what are you two fighting about?” It seemed the housekeeper and the handyman/caretaker were always at odds over something.
“The man keeps insisting on sneaking food to Annabel, even though I’ve specifically asked him not to.”
“But Roger loves Annabel. You know he does.”
“She’s my dog,” Mary said firmly. “And the vet says she’s too fat. She needs a low-calorie diet. How can she lose weight if that man insists on giving table scraps to her behind my back?”
“Roger’s just too softhearted. He can’t stand to hear the way Annabel whimpers in the pantry during every meal. It really is a heartbreaking sound, you know.”
“She’s my dog,” Mary repeated with uncharacteristic stubbornness. “I guess I know what’s best for her.”
“I’m sure you do.” Gina gave up the argument. “I’ll talk to Roger, all right?”
Mary nodded, looking somewhat mollified, and paused in the doorway. “Oh, by the way, I just remembered what I came up here to tell you. A man called a few minutes ago.”
“What man?”
“Name’s Alex Colton. Said he wanted to talk to you about a room.”
“Did you get his number?”
Mary shook her head. “He’s in town. I gave him directions and he said he’d drive out this afternoon to make arrangements with you in person.”
Gina looked at the messy scraps of wallpaper and the damp floor. “Well, I hope he doesn’t get here until I’ve had time to finish this,” she said. “I was really hoping for just one day when I could work without any interruptions.”
“There’s no such day in this business.” Mary smiled, her sunny nature apparently restored. “After fourteen years, you should know that, dear. It looks real nice,” she added, gesturing at the wall. “You’re doing a lovely job.” Then she was gone, vanishing down the gleaming oak staircase that descended to the lower foyer past a wall of stained glass.
Gina stood in the doorway and watched, thinking about her housekeeper. Mary Schick was worth her weight in gold. She’d been here almost since Gina had first opened the old mansion as a bed-and-breakfast. It was hard to imagine the place without her. A small spare woman with graying hair worn in a careless perm, the housekeeper was the kind of quiet efficient person upon whom people seemed automatically to depend. In fact, she’d spent her entire life looking after others. She’d settled in right after high school to run her family’s restaurant and look after her parents. She’d never married, had never even left Azure Bay. When her mother died and her father soon afterward, she’d sold the restaurant, happy to be free of the responsibility, and come to work as a cook and housekeeper for Gina Mitchell.
A few months later, Mary had sold her parents’ little house in the village, as well, and moved into the bed-and-breakfast as a permanent resident. She and Gina had been together ever since.
Fourteen years, Gina thought as she walked back into the guest room shaking her head in disbelief. She knelt to measure the next strip of wallpaper, then squinted up at the wall to determine the pattern match.
But Mary’s visit had set Gina’s thoughts on another track, and keeping her mind on the job at hand became increasingly difficult.
“Almost thirty-six years old,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “Lord, I can’t believe it. Where has the time gone?”
She got up, the pencil in her hand forgotten, and wandered over to look out the window. Beyond the leaded-glass panels, a willow tree swayed and rustled in the warm breeze, partially obscuring her view of the lake. Gina stared into the trailing green branches, thinking about the swift passage of time.
Framed by the window, she could have been a boy. She wore loose denim shorts, a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and frayed sneakers. Her body was slim and sun-browned from hours of working outside in the yard and garden, and her curly dark hair was cropped short. She had hazel eyes, high cheekbones dusted with freckles, and a sober level gaze that belied the boyishness of her face and body.
Fourteen years, she thought again, opening the casement window and leaning out to look across the lake. Almost half her life had been poured into this place.
But Gina had no regrets. Edgewood Manor was her life; it was her passion, her dream come true. Few people ever had the chance to live out a fantasy the way she had, right from the beginning.
She remembered the first time she’d seen the old mansion, and the powerful visceral surge of yearning she’d felt when she looked at its stately facade, its spacious grounds. From that moment, at the edge of twenty-one, she’d wanted the place for herself, and she would have done anything to get enough money to make the down payment.
In fact, what she had done to raise the money had been almost unthinkable…
