“You mean it?”
He must have heard the pain in her cry because his voice sounded kind when he said, “Come with me.”
Thankful to be following him along the path, so he couldn’t see her fighting tears of relief and gratitude, Kit was shocked when he headed for the little cottage.
“This used to be the old coachman’s place. It’s not fancy, but it’s clean and comfortable.”
To Kit it looked like an adorable French dollhouse. The second she stepped over the threshold, the beauty of the black-and-white tiled foyer charmed her. There was a terrace-like feel, with so many plants both inside and outside the mullioned windows.
He gave her a quick tour of the small house, starting with the living room and kitchen, where there was a table in the breakfast nook, and a small storeroom in back. On the other side of the foyer she discovered a bedroom with a king-size bed and en suite bathroom.
She watched him close the shutters as if to give her privacy. “You couldn’t mean I’m to stay in here—”
“Why not?”
“Because this room is someone’s private residence. I assumed I’d be given a cot.”
“There’s only one bedroom.” He put his hands on his hips in a purely masculine gesture. “It’s ready for you.”
“No… I couldn’t. It feels lived in.”
“It’s supposed to, and it’s your turn to stay here. In a week you’ll be able to move into the main house.”
“But—”
“It’s settled,” he interrupted with an authoritative note of finality. “Here’s a key to the front door.” He put it on the dresser. “Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for a staff meeting.”
Kit had a hard time believing she’d achieved her objective, let alone that she’d been given her own private quarters away from the mansion. “Are you sure about all this?”
He gave her a small, kind smile and said, “Renaissance House has a policy of turning no one away.”
Tears sprang to her eyes once more. “It’s a wonderful policy,” she whispered. “Whoever’s in charge, please tell them I’m very grateful.”
Their gazes met and held. After a slight pause, he replied, “I’ll convey the message.”
Hopefully, tonight or tomorrow she could ask to meet the McFarland son who ran this shelter. Whether he turned out to be her brother or not, she could say with absolute conviction that he was an exceptional human being.
As far as Kit was concerned, the kidnapping had caused the McFarland clan to turn their tragedy into something wonderfully good and positive—making them saints, in her opinion.
“What should I do right now?” With the two of them standing in the intimacy of the bedroom, she was feeling the slightest bit breathless again.
“Wait a half hour before ringing the side bell again. At that time Gwen Barber, who’s in charge of registration, will give you a full orientation. Until then, watch television, walk in the garden. Relax.” His eyes lingered on her, causing her pulse to quicken. “You’re safe here.”
The fact that this security guard was treating her like royalty made her feel more of a fraud than ever.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your stay. What is your name, by the way?”
It was a perfectly normal question to ask. A part of her hoped he’d wanted to know for personal reasons. She couldn’t remember ever being this strongly attracted to a man before. “It’s Kit.”
He smiled. By now her heart was thudding.
“Short for Kitty?”
“No. Just Kit.”
But maybe her mother had shortened it from Kathryn. Could it be…?
Kit couldn’t believe it. Not yet, anyway. The horror of her situation still hadn’t sunk in. All she knew so far was her DNA didn’t match her mother’s and none of her questions had been answered. She’d arrived in Salt Lake feeling like a victim of shellshock.
He nodded. “Hopefully you’ll get the help you need here, Kit.”
She hoped for that, too. Before she could ask him his name, he’d disappeared from the bedroom.
Kit stood motionless for a minute.
The guard had not only made her feel attractive, he’d treated her like an equal. But before she got too carried away, she had to remember he’d been trained to treat every homeless female the same way. The gardener had been nice to her, too.
If they were examples of the staff employed by Renaissance House, then the women who turned here for help had no idea how fortunate they were.
Kit would be a fool to imagine this man wanted to get to know her better. He wore no rings, but that didn’t mean anything. Hundreds of displaced women came and went from this shelter. One more was nothing new to him. Besides, she was positive there would be strict rules against male workers getting involved with the tenants.
Relax, he’d said.
That would be impossible.
In a few minutes she would have to tell a lie in order to become a temporary resident. But in her heart she believed it was for the worthiest of causes.
A family had been grieving for twenty-six years. If it turned out she really was the McFarlands’ missing daughter, she could only imagine their joy upon learning she was alive and well….
And if you’re not their daughter, then whose are you?
Maybe Frankie Burke was Kit’s father. Then again, maybe he’d just been her mother’s boyfriend for a while and had no idea who the father of her child was. Frankie had disappeared from Kit’s life a quarter of a century ago. She would have to earn a lot of money in order to hire a private detective and have him traced. If he were alive and she could find him, she would demand a DNA test be done. Beyond that, she couldn’t think of what she could do.
Unable to sit still, Kit went back outside. Since she now had permission to be on the grounds, she preferred to walk around and take in the exquisite ambience.
The half hour passed quickly and she reported to the side entrance of the mansion and rang the bell. The same trim blond woman who’d answered it twice before opened the door.
“I was told Gwen Barber was expecting me.”
She smiled. “I’m Gwen. Please come into the reception room so I can get some information from you. When the gardener phoned me and told me you’d gotten lost, I made arrangements for you to stay in the cottage. Do you think you’ll feel comfortable out there alone?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you so much.”
She followed Gwen across marble floors to a converted nineteenth-century drawing room. The mansion resembled a French palace. The woman sat down behind her desk and invited Kit to be seated.
After typing something into the computer she said, “All right, let’s begin. Give me your full name.”
“Kit Burke.”
“Your age?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Marital status?”
“Single.”
“Do you have any children?”
“No.”
“Place of birth?”
“Venice Beach, California.”
“Oh— California. I love the beach. What was your last place of residence? I need a full address.”
“It was 1605 Bromley Court, # 2, Venice Beach, California.”
“Your social security number?”
Kit rattled off the information. She still couldn’t believe a miracle had happened and they’d made room for her here.
“What’s the reason you’ve come to Renaissance House for assistance? If you don’t mind speaking slowly. I’m not the fastest typist in the world.”
What a nice woman.
“My father left when I was less than a year old. My mother was an alcoholic. If I had relatives, I never knew them. I went with her while she cleaned office buildings. Soon I was cleaning along with her.
“The two of us lived in a series of boardinghouses until I graduated from high school and earned enough money at my cleaning job for us to move to a low-income apar
tment complex. In her latter years Mother rarely worked. It got to the point where I was bringing home the only salary.”
Now for the lie. This was the hard part, because throughout her life, Kit had always striven to tell the truth. Or so she’d thought….
“I saved money for eight years, then bought us a house. But Mother became gravely ill and my insurance didn’t cover all her medical expenses. I had to quit work to take care of her. There was no more money coming in, and the bank foreclosed on me.
“Mother died a month ago. After the graveside service, I made the decision to move to Salt Lake, where I heard it wasn’t as expensive to live. When I arrived at the bus depot, someone directed me to Renaissance House. I came here to start a new life.”
“That’s fine, Kit. Now I need to know a little about your education so we can help you. Did you graduate from high school?”
“Yes.”
“Have you had schooling since then?”
“Yes. Three years of college at USC.”
“What degree are you working for?”
“I’m planning to be an elementary schoolteacher.” If Rena Burke had died quietly, Kit would still be in California working hard to attain her goal.
“That’s wonderful!”
The woman’s warmth touched Kit. How hard it must be for her to hear about the terrible tragedies that put people’s lives in such jeopardy. Yet Gwen was upbeat and made Kit feel good.
She admired this woman, who could probably earn a higher-paying salary somewhere else, but had chosen to work here where she could make a real difference.
“What kind of jobs have you done?”
Heavens. What hadn’t she done, with or without her mom! “For the past six years I’ve cleaned offices and houses. I’ve been a youth summer camp counselor. I’ve also done house-sitting, pet-sitting, hotel catering, working in a bakery, gardening, motel housekeeping and laundry.”
“Can I have a reference and phone number for your cleaning job?”
“Yes. Of course.” She gave the information.
“Have you been trained in any special skills?”
“Lifesaving and CPR, cake decorating.”
“Ooh, the cake decorating sounds interesting. I’ve always wanted to try that.”
Kit nodded. “It’s fun.”
“One more question. Do you have any medical conditions that would prevent you from doing a full day’s work?”
“No.”
“All right.” She sat back in the chair and smiled at Kit. “Except for meals, there’s no set structure for how you spend your time on your first day at Renaissance House. Here’s a brochure with a detailed floor plan of the mansion and grounds, and a schedule of meals. Inside is a bus pass with a map.”
She pulled a pamphlet from the drawer and handed it to her. “This should answer all your questions about our rules, facilities and staff. Breakfast is served from six to seven every day. Tomorrow you can report to me after you’ve eaten. I’ll send you out on some job interviews.”
“Thank you.”
Until Kit met Richard McFarland and told him the truth of everything, she had to play the role of a homeless woman and follow through on the job interviews even though she had no intention of accepting employment.
“If you don’t have enough clothes or cosmetics, we can supply them.”
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you, anyway.”
All she had to do was get her suitcase from the depot. After talking it over with Janene, she’d decided to take a bus from California to Salt Lake in order to be convincing in her role as a homeless person. She’d spent the night at a budget motel, and returned her suitcase to one of the lockers at the bus depot this morning so she wouldn’t have to lug it around.
“Very well. Then your time’s your own for the rest of the day. As you’ll read in the brochure, lunch is from twelve to one. Dinner is served from six to seven. The ground floor has rooms where you can mingle with the other guests. Unless you need to see me, always use the front entrance.”
Kit nodded. “Sorry about getting lost earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it. When you get hired and have worked two weeks, we’ll help you find housing you can afford. Now that I’ve done most of the talking, is there anything you want to ask me?”
Yes. Kit needed to meet Richard McFarland right away, but it was too soon to ask Gwen about him. The other woman had already gone out of her way to be accommodating. Gwen’s compassion made her an exceptionally kind person who could overlook bad behavior, even lies from a homeless person.
“No. But I would like to apologize for overstepping my bounds by coming back again this morning. To be honest, I took a chance that someone might have given up her bed for some reason and I could take it if I came early enough.” That much was the truth, at least.
“Fortunately, there’s the cottage for emergencies.”
“Thank you for arranging for me to stay there when you were already filled to overflowing. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“I do know, and we hope your stay here is a happy, productive one. In another seven days there’ll be a free bed for you upstairs.”
Kit didn’t plan on being here more than a few days, but no one knew that. She put the brochure in her purse and stood up. “Thanks again for giving me this opportunity to get back on my feet.”
“That’s the goal of Renaissance House. If you have any problems, come to me. I’m here every weekday from seven to five.”
“You work long hours.”
“I love it here.”
Kit left the reception room and walked across the marble floor to the side entrance, where she’d come in through the vine-covered portico. All she had to do now was head to the corner of the long block and wait for the city bus to take her downtown.
When she reached the bus stop, she discovered a well-dressed old man with white hair there. He smiled at her, prompting her to ask if he knew how soon the bus might be.
“Five minutes. What’s your hurry?”
A chuckle escaped her throat. “Do I seem like I’m in a hurry?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I guess I am.” I’m in the biggest hurry of my life to find out who I am.
“I saw you leaving the McFarland mansion. Beautiful place.”
“Magnificent.” She wondered why he didn’t call it Renaissance House. “I’ve never been to France but I imagine it’s like a lot of the buildings there.”
“Indeed it is.”
Kit warmed to him. “Do you live near here?”
“Across the street.”
“Really? Which house?”
“That old colonial with the chestnut trees in front.”
That old colonial happened to be another fabulous mansion. The man had to be at least eighty-five, but exhibited the dynamism of someone ten years younger. She wondered why, with his affluence, he was taking a bus. But maybe he was a thrifty person, or just plain old-fashioned. “It’s a lovely home. Have you lived there long?”
“All my life.”
In those three words she heard the sound of a contented man, but the revelation lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. Without conscious thought she blurted, “Then you must remember the day the McFarland baby was kidnapped.”
He moved his hand as if waving to someone. “It was awful. They never did find her or the woman.”
Woman? Kit’s body broke out in a cold sweat. “I didn’t realize the police ever came up with a solid suspect.”
“They didn’t, but Wilford had his theory.”
“Who’s Wilford?”
“Little Kathryn’s grandfather McFarland. He was my best friend. Passed away soon after my Mary died.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Shaken by what she’d just heard, Kit found her voice unsteady.
“Troubles come to us all. Wilford and I had dozens of long talks. Up until the day he died, he insisted it was one of the women from the housekeeping staff at the hos
pital who knew about the delivery and made a fuss over the baby. She’d popped into Ellen’s hospital room several times while she was cleaning, just to see her baby.
“Wilford figured she waited to kidnap Kathryn until after the parents had taken their baby home from the hospital. That way the woman would never be implicated through the hospital records. But when she realized that the power of the McFarlands would prevail in the end, she changed her mind about trying to extort money from them. That’s why there was never a ransom note.”
Kit’s nails dug into her palms. It sounded like a plausible theory.
Had Kit’s mother ever lived and worked in Salt Lake? Rena always said she was an orphan from Los Angeles who met Frankie Burke at a Venice Beach hotel where they both worked in the laundry. They’d married soon after. As far as Kit knew, her father was also a Californian, but didn’t have any other living family.
“Surely everyone working at the hospital at the time of the McFarland delivery was investigated.”
“Yes indeed, but the police found no evidence. Wilford figured she had an accomplice. Later, when rumor had it she left the hospital to get married, he used his vast resources to help the police trace her, but they couldn’t find her. Both she and little Kathryn seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth.”
Kit shuddered. Mother? Was it really you? “I can’t comprehend the pain that family has gone through.”
The old man shook his head sadly. “It has been horrific. All these years they’ve waited for some word. Anything at all to know what might have happened to that tiny baby….”
ON THE WAY TO THE GARAGE located near the First Avenue entrance to the grounds, Cord waved to his head gardener, Dwayne. Along with the staff’s cars, it housed the vans belonging to Renaissance House. He’d just stopped at the cottage to put his things in the hall cupboard and closet, but there was no sign of its newest occupant. Undoubtedly she was still in orientation.
He found no camera or tape recorder hidden in the drawers. Though he felt justified in snooping through her things in case she was planning something that could hurt his family, he was equally aware she might have told the truth about getting lost.
Somebody's Daughter Page 3