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His Wife
His Wife
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His Wife

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“I don’t trust her,” Campbell replied without even having to think about it. “She’s not Abby.”

“How do you know?”

Campbell looked upstairs and said in a pained and puzzled tone, “Because Abby wouldn’t hate me.”

Sawyer didn’t know how to respond. That reply was indicative of the complex workings of Campbell’s mind and the deep mysteries it held. Did he really expect the behavior of a twenty-six-year-old woman to reflect the affections of a child he hadn’t seen in twenty-five years? Somehow, he did.

“I think I should take the DNA test,” he said, “and be done with it.”

They’d all agreed that wasn’t wise when she’d first arrived. “Come on, Cam. We don’t want to do that to Mom.”

“If she isn’t Abby,” Campbell argued, “we get rid of her before Mom even has to know she was here.”

“And if she is Abby,” Sawyer countered, “Mom missed the discovery of her daughter’s return. And would China stay if she knew the test would prove she wasn’t our sister?”

“Why not? Everyone’s been treating her like royalty. She’d want to keep it up as long as she could. Then, when the test proves she isn’t Abby, she can just claim she didn’t know.”

“How do you explain all the Abbott Mills things she found in her box?”

Campbell sighed. “I don’t. I try hard to remember the night she disappeared, but all that comes to me is the nanny screaming, Mom crying, Dad not talking to anybody for days. And I remember you and me climbing into Killian’s bed and talking about running away to find her. But Killian said we shouldn’t ’cause Mom and Dad were already too upset.”

Campbell drew back from the memories suddenly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m going to see if I can find that message.”

“Do you think you got the job?” Sawyer asked. Campbell was always applying for jobs on other estates, convinced he’d never truly discover himself until he was out from under the influence of Killian and Sawyer.

“No idea.” Campbell stretched both arms and yawned. “At interviews, I think I make a good impression, but when the question comes down to why I’d want to leave Shepherd’s Knoll for another position, it’s a tough one to explain without getting into a lot of personal stuff, and I think they all begin to believe there has to be something wrong with me.”

“There is,” Sawyer confirmed. “You’re nuts.”

Campbell accepted that assessment with a nod. “Thanks, bro. Just the vote of confidence I needed.” He started to walk away, then turned back again as though he’d just remembered something. “How was your dinner with Brian?”

“Good,” Sawyer said. “You should have come.”

“I had to go over China’s work on the house budget before I pay bills tomorrow.”

“How’d she do?”

“Very well,” Campbell admitted in mild surprise. “She seems to have a good grasp of what it takes to keep the place going, though I’ll have to explain Mom to her.”

When Killian suggested that China work with Campbell until Chloe came home, Campbell had given her the job he hated most—the household accounts. Chloe was a little bit of a spendthrift and cheerfully defied any and all efforts to make her account for her purchases, insisting that their father never had. It made organizing the books difficult.

For the representative of a charity to appear with a handwritten note from Chloe promising a sizable donation wasn’t at all unusual. Sawyer had tried to remind her that that was what the foundation was for, and with better controls, but she would just dismiss his objections with a very Gallic wave of her hand and do it again the following week. With foundation funds committed to distribution in a very particular way, such donations were paid for out of the household money.

Then there was the time she replaced her bedroom furniture and wrote a check for it the same day Campbell had paid the staff, the car insurance, the utilities and the quarterly taxes.

Kezia’s paycheck had bounced. Fortunately, she’d understood her employer’s foibles and explained the problem to Campbell, who had promptly covered it for redeposit. Sawyer hated to think what could have happened. Facing down a bounced check at the IRS would have been bad enough, but having the car insurance expire the way Cordie drove might have been disastrous.


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