It killed him that she wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t know if it was embarrassment or shame or the simple fact that she was hanging on to her self-control by a thread. Maybe all of those reasons.
He took a stab in the dark. “I gather he’s the one you’re looking for.”
She saluted him with her glass. “Right again.”
“So what’s his name? If you’d like, I’ll pass it on to Juice and we’ll have him tracked down in no time.”
“Well, now, there’s the hitch.”
Rafe winced. “No name.”
“No name,” she confirmed.
“I can’t think of a tactful way of asking my next question….”
“Let me ask it for you. Did my mother even know who he was? Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.”
“And she won’t give you his name?” Outrage rippled through Rafe’s voice.
“She died before she got around to it, although she did let it slip one time that he lived in San Francisco. And Gran remembered her calling him Rory.”
“Granted, that’s not a lot to go on,” Rafe conceded. “Even so, Juice may be able to help. Was there anything else? Letters, perhaps, or mementos?”
“You don’t want to go there, Rafe,” she whispered.
“Of course I want to go there. If it’ll help—”
She set her glass on the raft with exquisite care. “Remember when I told you that my plan for an exit strategy from our engagement was on automatic? If you keep asking questions, the countdown begins.”
“What the hell does finding your father have to do with ending our engagement?”
Darkness filled her eyes, turning them sooty with pain. “I can explain, if you insist. But don’t forget I did try to warn you.”
“Fine. You warned me. Now, what’s going on?”
“My father gave my mother a bracelet shortly before she left him. I was going to use that to try to find him, assuming he wants to be found. It was unusual enough that it might help identify him.”
“Go on.”
“It was an antique bracelet.”
“Great. So we’ll give Juice the bracelet—”
She cut him off. “Small problem.” He could see her struggle to maintain her composure. “I don’t have it.”
“Did you sell it?”
“No! Never.”
“Then where is it?”
“My sister took it. My half sister.”
Son of a bitch. Did he have to drag every last detail out of her? “Okay, I really don’t understand. How did she end up with your father’s bracelet if he wasn’t her father and the two of you didn’t grow up together?”
“Every once in a while, Mom would drop by for a visit with my sister in tow. On one of the visits, Mom gave me the bracelet. My sister—half sister—was not happy. She had everything money could buy, except that one thing. And she wanted it. It ate at her. I realize now that she couldn’t stand the idea that I possessed something she didn’t. She threw a temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums.”
“And your mother gave in? She gave the bracelet to your sister?”
“Nope. She dragged my sister, kicking and screaming, out of my grandmother’s house. The few times they visited after that everything seemed fine, though one time I caught her snooping around in my room. But years later, long after Mom died, she showed up out of the blue. I thought it was an attempt to mend fences and reconnect.” Larkin’s laugh held more pain than amusement. “After she left I discovered that the bracelet had left with her.”
“Can you get it back?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Perhaps if we were to approach her, offer to purchase it?”
For some reason the kindness in his voice provoked a flood of tears and it took her a minute to control them. “Thanks.”
“Aw, hell.”
He swept her into his arms and she buried her face against his shoulder, her body curving into his. He couldn’t understand how a parent could abandon her child. But then, he couldn’t imagine making any of the choices Larkin’s mother had. No wonder Larkin took such delight in his family and the way they encouraged and supported and—yes—interfered in each other’s lives.