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“I’m your only sister.” Molly giggled, and Ethan knew he’d done the right thing in asking Travis to come home. He wished Pop could see that.
The day went relatively well, considering Pop’s uncommunicative mood and somber expression. That evening they sat on the front porch, and Travis played his guitar and sang. Molly joined in and Ethan and Cole clapped along. After that, they started on the gospel songs their mother used to sing. Ethan noticed that Pop was getting teary-eyed.
Suddenly Pop said, “You both got your talent from your mother. She sang like a bird.”
An unwelcome tension followed.
Travis cleared his throat. “Thanks, Pop.” And Molly nodded.
“I was so mad at her brother Charlie for buying you that guitar when you were twelve.”
Silence again.
“Later I found out that Marie had given him the money to buy it. It was the only thing she ever kept from me.” He slowly shook his head. “She knew I wouldn’t like it.”
Travis looked to Ethan for guidance, but Ethan didn’t respond. If Pop had something to say, he needed to say it.
“I still don’t like it,” Pop went on. “But Ethan says you have a right to live your life the way you want. He’s right, because when I hear you sing, I hear your mama and…” He stopped as his voice cracked. He got to his feet. “Think I’ll turn in.”
Molly threw her arms around him, and they exchanged a long hug. Then Pop looked at Travis. “Glad you’re home, son,” he mumbled, and walked into the house.
Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. Finally they were talking like a family. Now maybe the hurt could begin to heal.
THEY WERE STILL talking outside when the phone rang. Cole jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
Ethan wondered if Cole was hoping it would be his father. A minute later, he was back. “It’s for you, Uncle Ethan. A woman.”
“A woman?” Travis raised an eyebrow. “This is interesting.” He grinned at Cole. “Did she sound young and attractive?”
Cole shrugged. “She sounded nice.”
“Nice and needs assistance from a P.I. is my guess,” Travis stated.
Ethan stood. “It could be something entirely different.”
“Yeah, right.” Travis said with a laugh.
Ethan shook his head as the laughter followed him into the house.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Mr. Ethan Ramsey?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Serena Farrell. We met a week ago in a café in Fort Worth. You thought I was a…stripper. Do you remember?”
Ethan sat down on the sofa. The redhead was the last person he’d expected to call. That could only mean one thing. She needed his services, just as Travis had predicted.
“Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Ms. Farrell?”
Silence.
“Ms. Farrell?”
“I’m not sure how to say this.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Sometimes we all do stupid things.”
“I am not a stripper,” she said hotly.
“Okay, then, why are you calling me?”
“I want to know who the other woman is.”
“I see,” he said, but he didn’t, so he decided to let her do the talking.
“Do you think you can find her?” she asked after a brief pause.
“That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“How…how much do you charge?”
Ethan told her and she asked, “Do you think you can locate her in two days?”
Ethan knew where the woman worked, so the job would be easy, but he wasn’t sure why Serena Farrell needed to find her. Was she telling the truth about her own identity? Could there actually be two of them? His curiosity was piqued, and he wanted to find out.
“I think so,” he said slowly. “Can you explain what this is all about?”
“If she looks like me, we have to be related in some way. I want to know how.”
Ethan accepted that, but he felt there were a lot of blanks that needed filling in. “Okay, I’ll come to Fort Worth and we’ll take it from there.”
“I can’t do it next week. I’m a schoolteacher and it’s the last week of school, but the week after should be fine.”
“I work alone, Ms. Farrell.”
“Please, Mr. Ramsey, this is very important to me.”
Something in her voice got to him. “Give me your number.”
When she’d rattled off her phone number, she said, “Thanks, Mr. Ramsey. I know you think I’m lying, but I’m not.”
“I’m a private investigator and I try not to judge people. If you want this woman found, then I’ll find her. I’ll call in a week.”
Ethan hung up and stared at the phone. The plot thickens. Now he’d discover whether or not there were two women, and he didn’t mind getting to know Ms. Serena Farrell in the process. She was either the best actress he’d ever met or a woman who genuinely needed his help. Either way, he was looking forward to the experience.
SERENA SAT until her heart stopped pounding. She’d done it. She’d called. Now she’d know. She picked up her mother’s picture from the bed. They looked so much alike. Very few people had exactly that hair color together with the fair complexion. For the past few days, she’d had an awful thought, as a result of Gran’s reaction to her questions. Maybe Jasmine wasn’t dead. What if Aurora and Henry had disowned her and pretended she was dead? If her mother was alive and had another daughter—could that possibly be true? Yes, she told herself, because Gran wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d have to find out on her own—with Ethan Ramsey’s help.
CHAPTER THREE
THE REST OF THE WEEKEND went smoothly, Ethan thought. Travis and Molly laughed and talked and sang, and they had their heads together most of the time. They were only three years apart in age and had always been close. Pop managed to keep his opinions to himself, but by Sunday afternoon Ethan knew something was afoot. Molly was too excited. Then she dropped her bombshell: she was returning to Dallas with Travis and singing in the club with him. Travis had cleared it with the owner. When Pop heard the news, he stomped off to the kitchen.
Molly appealed to Ethan. “Talk to him. I have to get away.”
Ethan knew she did, but singing in a nightclub staggered him, too. His sister was more the domestic type.
Travis spoke up. “C’mon, Ethan. I’ll look out for her.”
“What about Cole?” Ethan said the only thing that made sense to him.
“We’ve already talked,” Molly said. “Travis offered to get him a job with his construction company, but he wants to spend his last summer before college here on the ranch with you and Pop.”
Ethan was still at a loss for words. Molly didn’t need his permission, but she seemed to need his approval.
“You wanted me to get a job,” she reminded him. “That’s what I’m doing. I just can’t stay here with Bruce getting married.” Her voice wavered slightly.
Ethan put his arm around her. Molly had never been on her own. She’d gone from her parents’ house to Bruce’s, and needed to experience life as a single woman. He understood that. “Just take care of yourself and I’ll take care of Cole.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks. This will give Cole a chance to forge a new relationship with his father. You’re right, my pain has had a bad effect on Cole. I don’t want him to be bitter, and as much as Bruce has hurt me, he was always a good father to Cole. That’s not easy for me to admit, but I have to go forward, as you said, and I’m trying to do that. I still have a lot of emotions to get through. This time away from everything will help me.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “But what about Pop?”
“Go tell him what you just told me.” Ethan knew she wanted him to explain, but if Molly was going to make her own choices, she had to defend them.
When she left, Travis said, “I think this is what’s best for Molly right now.”
“Oddly, I do, too,” Ethan replied. “She has to find a life without Bruce. Singing in a club, though. That takes some getting used to.”
“It’s just something fun to do until she gets her bearings.”
“I suppose,” Ethan admitted. “I’ll be in Fort Worth the week after next, and I’ll drop by and catch the show.”
Travis’s eyes narrowed. “What will you be doing in Fort Worth?”
“A case.”
“And you’re not talking about it.”
“Nope.” He didn’t talk about his cases and he definitely didn’t want Travis to know he was working for the redhead. There’d be too many questions and he didn’t have any answers.
Later that evening they waved goodbye to Molly and Travis. After Molly had talked to Pop, he seemed resigned to the situation. They all were, because they realized Molly was taking the first step in changing her life.
ETHAN DID a background check on Serena Farrell. He wanted to find out as much as he could. She was a schoolteacher, as she’d said. He would never have guessed that. She seemed more the executive type. Everything else was pretty much as he’d expected. She came from a wealthy family and lived in an affluent neighborhood. Polished and sophisticated—exactly as she appeared. She was unmarried and lived with her grandmother. That was a surprise, but then, he had a feeling there were going to be lots of surprises with Serena Farrell.
He called her and they made plans to get together on Saturday of the following week at the café where they’d first met. He didn’t have to see her, he could get most of what he needed on the phone. But he had an urge to spend some time with her. Try to figure her out. Maybe get another read on the situation.
Ethan left Pop and Cole to their own devices, but he knew what they’d be doing. Cole was smitten with the Dawson girl, and after they finished work for the day, he’d drive over to her house. Pop would be playing dominoes with his buddies. He promised them both that he’d check in on Molly.
He arrived at the café early and sat watching the door—a habit that sometimes proved valuable. He saw her through the window. Her red hair was coiled at the nape of her neck. As he watched, she removed her sunglasses and put them in her purse. She wore a cream pantsuit that enhanced the red of her hair. When she entered the café and glanced around, he immediately got to his feet. She came toward him, and Ethan realized again how beautiful she was. She moved with a grace that had several men turning their heads. All of a sudden the stripper’s almost-nude body flashed in his mind and he knew exactly what lay beneath the pantsuit. The vision startled him, but his body reacted instinctively—in a way it hadn’t responded the night he’d seen the stripper. Damn, he was too old for this. Or did men ever get too old to respond? Especially when they were two feet away from a woman like Serena Farrell.
She offered her hand and he shook it. Her skin felt just as soft and smooth as it looked. A delicate fragrance drifted to his nostrils.
“I’m glad you came, Mr. Ramsey,” she said as she sat down.
“Please call me Ethan,” he invited as he resumed his seat.
“And please call me Serena.”
“Well, Serena,” Ethan said, “you mentioned on the phone that you want me to find the stripper.”
“Yes.” She set her purse on the table, then glanced at his face. “You sounded surprised when I called you, but I have my reasons.”
“Do you mind sharing them with me?”
She shifted slightly in her chair. “Can I see some sort of identification?” She didn’t know Ethan Ramsey and she thought it best to get some facts about him first. He had one of those faces that suggested real strength of character and she’d love to paint him, but she couldn’t let feminine instincts overrule common sense. She didn’t need another mistake in her life.
Ethan pulled out his wallet and PI badge and laid them on the table in front of her. He admired her astuteness. She should learn something about him.
“After high school I joined the army,” he told her. “I got into intelligence work and liked it. After my tour of duty, I joined the FBI and was a member of a covert intelligence team. I traveled all over the world, but the time away became hard on my wife. When our son was born, I asked to be reassigned. My request was granted, and I became a special agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. I was there until I was shot in the line of duty. Now I’m a private investigator. Does that answer your questions?”
“Yes,” she answered slowly. He was married. She didn’t understand why that bothered her. Of course he wasn’t single. A man like Ethan Ramsey was hard to find—reliable, honest and straightforward. It wasn’t something she really knew about him because they’d only just met, but it was something she instinctively felt. She’d sensed it that day his brother had confronted her about the stripper. In Ethan’s eyes there was no judgment—just a desire to help. Studying him from beneath her lashes, she wondered where he’d been shot. It must have been in the leg. She wouldn’t mention his limp; she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.
He picked up his I.D. from the table. “So why do you want me to find the stripper?”
Daisy came to take their order, and they both asked for coffee. After she’d left, Serena said, “It’s a long story, so I’ll try to make it short. My parents died the day I was born. My mother had the same red hair and blue eyes as I do, and so does my maternal grandmother. It’s a family trait. So when you said the stripper looked like me, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I have to know who she is.”
“Have you asked your grandmother?” he inquired, watching her face and trying to gauge her sincerity. So far he couldn’t detect anything off. She was as sincere as they came.
“Yes, and she says it’s ridiculous. That no one looks like me.”
“But you have your doubts.”
She waited until Daisy had placed coffee in front of them and walked away. “Yes.” She touched the warm cup, then added milk and stirred it. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? The woman does resemble me? I mean, this isn’t a come-on or something? That’s why I asked about your credentials. I have to be sure.” What was she saying? Serena chastised herself. The man was married, but the words seemed to emerge of their own volition. In truth she didn’t believe for a second that he was coming on to her.
“That happens a lot?” he asked, his eyebrow raised. “Guys coming on to you?” He startled himself with his response. For one thing, she was beautiful; of course guys came on to her. For another, this wasn’t his normal interview. He didn’t get personal.
“Sometimes,” she admitted.
He noticed a tinge of pink in her cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “This isn’t a line. Like I told you before, the woman is a dead ringer for you.”
She clasped her hands in her lap. “Then please find out who she is.”
Her heartfelt words moved him, but something didn’t seem quite right. Why didn’t she ask where the stripper worked? She could easily find the woman herself, but then, strip clubs probably weren’t to her taste. Still… He had to put his suspicions aside. For once he was anxious to see how a case turned out. If there were two of Serena Farrell, he wanted to see them both.
He got to his feet and picked up his Stetson. “I’ll call when I have any information.”
She grabbed her purse. “Shouldn’t I pay you? You said you take a retainer.”
“We’ll settle up when I find the stripper.” Why did he say that? He always took a retainer unless he knew the client, but nothing about this case was going according to form.
