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“Have you spoken with Emily?” Wyatt couldn’t help but worry and wonder about their young sister. Though she was of age, she was still just a kid in his mind.
“Not yet. But I will. Listen. Austin had a courier drop this by so that we could take a look.”
Wyatt moved to the end of his bed and dropped on the bench next to Lucy, sandwiching her between himself and Rand. “What does it say?”
“More evidence that Meredith isn’t Meredith anymore.” Rand’s tone was wry.
Wyatt’s exhale was long and slow. “What now?”
Rand tapped the pages he held. “Okay. So far we’ve all suspected that the woman out there we’ve known as ‘Mom’ might not be mom at all, but instead, her twin sister.”
“Patsy Portman,” Lucy murmured.
“Right.”
“That’s just…so hard to believe. I mean, come on. It’s wacky.” Wyatt raked a hand through his hair. ”
“True. But Emily believes it,” Rand drawled. “And she was traumatized enough to run away last September.”
“We should have listened to Emily.” To stem his agitation, Wyatt stood and moved to the wet bar. He pulled bottles of sparkling water from the refrigerator and passed them out.
“Don’t be so hard on yourselves,” Lucy murmured as she popped the top to her bottle. “Sometimes people change after severe trauma to the head. Act completely different. Besides, you had no way of knowing that Meredith had a twin. Obviously, she didn’t want any of you to know about Patsy. And can you blame her?”
Wyatt took a long pull on his water bottle, hoping to rinse the acid taste from his mouth. “No. Except that now that Em’s run away, it might have been helpful.”
“Considering what Emily’s been saying about Meredith, she may be better off out of this house.” Rand held up the documents in his hand. “Austin’s report confirms her worst suspicions.” He snapped the pages with his thumb and forefinger.
As understanding dawned, Wyatt leaned against the wet bar and gave his head a kind of backward nod. “It’s confirmed. Patsy Portman is here.”
“Right.”
Lucy twisted her fingers together. “Then it’s true. That wacko is here. In the house. With us. Now.”
Wyatt arched a brow. “We knew there was that possibility.”
“Yes, I knew it up here,” Lucy gestured to her head, “but deep down, I couldn’t really believe it. I mean it’s so…so…I mean, how can one woman take another’s place and fool everyone for ten years?”
Tipping his chin to his shoulder, Rand looked over at Wyatt. “Which also begs the question, if she’s not Mom, then where is Mom?”
Wyatt chose not to mince words. “You think she may be dead?”
“Could be. Drake thinks so. Hell, practically the whole family does.”
“Murdered?”
“Probably. Patsy’s done it before.”
Lucy glanced between the two men. “Why would Patsy do that to her own sister?”
“Jealousy, most likely.” Wyatt was becoming more certain with every bit of information revealed. “Taking Meredith’s identity would also keep her from facing another murder rap.”
Lucy let her head flop back on her shoulders. “Okay, so my mother-in-law is a murderer.”
Wyatt held up a finger. “Actually, she’s your aunt-in-law.”
Lolling her head from Wyatt to Rand, she stared pointedly at her husband. “I don’t ever want to hear you complain about my family again.”
“So far, Mom’s murder is still conjecture.” Rand tipped back his water bottle and drank, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Right now, we don’t have any hard evidence that she is indeed dead. Without a body, we can’t prove anything yet.”
“But until we do, we have to pretend that Patsy is Meredith, and that her bizarre behavior is normal?” Lucy wondered.
Wyatt shrugged. “Nothing we haven’t been doing for years now.”
Lucy looked back and forth between the men and shivered. “The only difference is that now we know for sure.”
Later that evening, dinner with his family sent memories cascading through Wyatt, making him feel more alive than he’d felt in years. There was nothing like the praise—and good-natured insults—of family. It was too bad that “Meredith” had pleaded headache and missed most of the festivities. When she’d made her excuses and stepped from the room, he’d exchanged meaningful glances with Rand and Lucy and wondered how many others at the table suspected that Meredith wasn’t actually…Meredith.
If she was missed, it didn’t dampen the festivities for long. There were toasts to the bride and groom, trips down memory lane, and a feeling of something so incredibly right. Again, Wyatt yearned for more than a professionally decorated and cleaned condo to come home to at night.
After the candles had burned low, some of the crowd retired, some headed for the hot tub, some for the pool tables and others for after-dinner drinks in the courtyard. Lucy and Rand walked with Wyatt to their neighboring suites and stepped inside Wyatt’s room for a moment.
“What now?” Wyatt asked.
Rand patted the pocket that held the papers that Austin’s courier had delivered that afternoon. “We need to get this information to Emily.” Rand glanced at Lucy. “I’ll be back in time for the wedding.”
“You’re leaving?” Wyatt asked.
“Have to. We can’t leave Emily twisting in the wind. The more we keep her in the loop, the safer she’ll be.”
Frustrated by feelings of helplessness, Wyatt nodded. “Right. How did you figure out where she went?”
“Austin’s P.I. found her a few hours ago.” Rand paused and looked into his brother’s eyes before he spoke. “She’s in Keyhole.”
Tiny hairs stood up on the back of Wyatt’s neck and he froze. Had he misunderstood? “Keyhole? Keyhole, Wyoming? You’re kidding!”
“I thought that place might ring a bell for you.” Rand narrowed his eyes, searching Wyatt’s face.
“What rings a bell? Why?” Lucy’s head swiveled back and forth between the two men as they talked over her head. “Why would some town named Keyhole ring a bell?”
“Emily’s hiding out in Keyhole?” Wyatt asked, ignoring Lucy. “Why Keyhole?”
“Don’t know. The P.I. didn’t talk to her. Keyhole’s not far from Nettle Creek, where Dad grew up, so I guess Emily maybe feels a little less homesick.” His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t Keyhole where Annie lives now?”
“Who’s Annie?” Lucy wondered.
Wyatt gave his throat a noisy clearing in hopes that he didn’t sound as screwed up as he felt. “Yeah. As far as I know.”
Lucy sighed. “Hello? Guys? Remember me? Who is Annie?”
“How long has it been since you two saw each other?” Rand asked his brother.
“Not since college.” Wyatt passed a hand over his forehead and rubbed at the familiar ache that settled in his brow every time he thought of the life Annie led without him. Just speaking about her marriage turned him into a melancholy mess. “She got married and had a couple of kids. Twin boys, I hear.”
“I’m gathering somebody named Annie has twin boys. Don’t feel like you owe me any explanation or anything. After all, I’m just standing here,” Lucy fumed.
“Wasn’t her husband killed in an accident of some kind a few years back?” Rand asked.
“Yeah. I thought you told me that.”
Rand shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
“Maybe it was Austin.” Unfortunately, Wyatt hadn’t learned of the accident that took her husband’s life until long after the funeral, and by then, his condolences seemed untimely. Misplaced. At least that was the excuse he used to explain away his fears of contacting Annie. “Anyway, as far as I know she hasn’t remarried.”
With a moan, Lucy buried her face in her hands. “I’m invisible.”
Rand laughed. “Lucy, honey, Annie was Wyatt’s first—” he arched a brow at Wyatt “—and only love.”
Lucy peeped between her fingers. “You were in love once?”
“You don’t need to sound so shocked.”
“Excuse me? Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Nobody-Nohow-Never was once in love? Oh, baby. This is juicy.” She hooted, then her eyes narrowed and she gently probed his cheekbones with her fingertips. “And, by the little flush in your cheeks, may I deduce that she still has your heart?”
Wyatt looked askance at Rand. “How do you put up with her meddling?”
Rand laughed. “With Lucy, it’s an art form. Her talent at digging up dirt is one of the main reasons I fell in love with her.”
“Aw, honey. You’re so sweet.” Lucy stepped into her husband’s arms and met his mouth for a solid kiss. Soon, happy moans were rumbling from their throats.
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Don’t you two have a room of your own?” he groused. For crying in the night. Sometimes they could be so obnoxious. Not to mention thoughtless. It wasn’t like he had anyone of his own to turn to when they skipped off to their room to do whatever came naturally to newlyweds.
“Honey,” Lucy said as she nuzzled Rand’s neck, “why are you going to Keyhole? Don’t you think we should make Wyatt go? After all, he has more reasons to go than you do, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t want you to go. Stay with me. I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I can’t think straight with you kissing my ear that way,” Rand groaned.
“That’s it. Get out of here,” Wyatt ordered and, striding to the door, yanked it open.
With one smooth move, Rand lifted Lucy and carried her to the hall.
“Don’t worry, Wyatt,” Lucy called. “You can be back in time for Liza’s wedding. Bring a date back with you!”
Their laughter echoed down the hall and into their suite. And then it was silent.
Wyatt kicked off an insanely expensive pair of Italian leather shoes and, wiggling his toes, allowed his gaze to travel leisurely around his suite. Never—not even in his wildest dreams—would he ever have believed that he’d build a decent life for himself on this old planet. But he had.
Thanks to the fact that Joe had been a foster child himself and remembered how it had felt to be taken in and loved when the people who’d brought him into this world had been unable. The fact that Wyatt hadn’t been in Prosperino for nearly five years, then could sit down at the table and pick up where he left off as easily as if it had been five minutes, proved that family was about far more than blood. It was about shared history. About caring. Love.
As Wyatt leaned back into the pillows that were propped against the headboard, his thoughts moved to Annie.
Always to Annie.
Her family came from Keyhole. The same small town where his foster sister Emily had gone. Lord have mercy, what were the odds of that? Some astronomical number, he decided as he considered the bizarre coincidence.
Keyhole, Wyoming. The quaint little village came to life in his minds’ eye. It had been years since he’d been there. To visit Annie. To meet the family. To mess up the best thing that had ever happened to him.
His mind, like a runaway locomotive, churned and screamed with thoughts of Annie. He’d learned a long time ago that once he started thinking about her, he couldn’t stop. It made him miserable, left him sleepless. But there didn’t seem to be any cure. It was almost as if, after their first kiss, she’d become entwined with the ladder of his very DNA. Even after all these years, memories of her made his mouth go dry as the Mojave desert and his face feel the burn of his changing blood pressure. With a tortured groan, Wyatt shifted his position and covered his head with a pillow.
Fool. Fool. Fool. The downy feathers couldn’t seem to drown out the incessant refrain.
His eyes slid closed and he entertained a vision of Annie’s delightfully expressive face. She could have been a poster child for the musical that bore her name. Curly and carrot red, Annie always said that her hair was the bane of her existence. She wouldn’t believe that it had been one of the things that had first drawn Wyatt. That, and her clear ivory skin and fresh wholesome features. But the thing that he’d most loved were her amazing green eyes. Almond-shaped eyes that tilted slightly up and lent her otherwise all-American face an exotic look.
Eyes that could see through to his soul.
Wyatt pulled the pillow off his face and stared at the ceiling.
The very first time he’d met Annie, ten years ago, they’d been working together in the dish room at one of Prosperino State College’s many cafeterias. A conveyor belt carried the dirty trays toward a giant dishwasher. Along the way, student workers would remove the silverware, the paper, and the glasses. Then the trays traveled to the garbage disposal where more student workers scraped the scraps and sprayed the dishes and loaded them into the mouth of the dishwasher. The machine would haul its load, in a never-ending car-wash style, to the other end where more workers would unload. It was a hot, dirty job, but it helped to pay the bills his scholarship wouldn’t cover.
Wyatt’s job had been to load the dishwasher.
Annie’s had been to make sure all the silverware was taken off the trays before they reached Wyatt.
Her first day on the job she’d grown flustered as the trays came speeding by and, when a piece of silverware had jammed the garbage disposal for the third time, Wyatt had gotten mad. Turning off the belt, he’d marched down to the silverware station brandishing a mangled spoon.
“What the hell is the problem down here? Any idiot should be able to handle pulling three lousy pieces of silverware off a passing tray.”
Eyes snapping with anger, Annie had tossed her wild coppery mane out of her face and fired a fistful of silverware at the soapy container at her side. “Hey, buddy, I’d like to see you get it all when the belt is going a hundred miles an hour.”
Enjoying the break, their more experienced co-workers had settled in to watch the show. At the same time, students attempting to turn their trays in poked their head into the dish room to see why the belt was off and what the shouting was about.
“Nobody else seems to have a problem keeping up.” Wyatt knew that wasn’t exactly true, but he’d had a hell of a day and with midterms coming up, he was in no mood to deal with this rookie.
“Baloney. Nobody wants this stupid job. That’s why I got it before the ink was dry on my application. This is my first day, so you can just cut me some slack!”
Wyatt stared at her. “This is your first day on the job and you’re yelling at me?”
“Yes!” The little veins stood out on her neck and she fairly pulsed with frustration.
The humor of the situation suddenly struck him and Wyatt threw back his head and started to laugh. Soon, everyone but Annie was laughing. Then, lips twitching, she’d cracked and they’d all howled until the boss came in to see why trays had stacked up waist deep in the cafeteria, just outside the dish room.
The next time Wyatt had seen Annie was at the time clock a week later on Valentine’s Day.
“Hi,” he said as she punched out. He glanced at her time card. “Annie.”
“Hi.” She glanced at the card he held. “Wylie.”
“Wyatt.”
“Whatever.”
