Two items sat in the bottom. A centerfold picture of pop star idol Andy Gibb and a red, leather-bound diary.
She took the diary and plunked onto the floor. Taking a deep breath, she opened page one, dated November 1974, more than a year before her mother left. She skimmed the first few entries. Mundane comments, typical of a teenager. She impatiently flipped to the last page, about three-quarters of the way through the book. Drawing in a deep breath, she started to read.
December 20, 1975
After school, Sean took me to our favorite place in Bath for a Christmas celebration. Mum and Dad thought I’d gone to work, an excuse I used to stay out later. We exchanged gifts. He gave me a beautiful bracelet and I gave him a sketch I’d made from a picture of the two of us. He said he loved it. He said he loved me. Only, this time, I didn’t say it back. It would hurt him all the more when I left.
Leaving soon is all I can do. I will never forgive my father, for making my only choice adoption. This baby grows inside of me. There’s a connection. I could never give it to another family. But I simply cannot tell Sean the truth, either.
The truth? Willow’s muscles went limp. Had she ever really known her mother? Secrets appeared to be a way of life for her. Things hidden from a daughter she said she loved. Even kept from a man who loved her. The man who might be Willow’s father. Had her mother lost all sense of decency? Being a party to betrayal of the worst kind—lying to the people who loved her the most.
Fury escalated and quickly exploded. She threw the diary and it hit the wall then landed on the floor. “Liar! LIAR!” Willow collapsed on the bed and buried her head in her hands.
Willow’s temples throbbed. Her whole life had been a sham. Raised in her stepfather’s world of moneyed Manhattanites, she’d been the proverbial square peg in a round hole. With her mother’s ease in lying, everything she’d ever said could be up for grabs as fake.
Raised by a liar, Willow had been able to pull off the biggest charade of all... Transforming from the chubby little girl who’d been told to get good grades because she’d have nothing else to fall back on into a skinny, successful businesswoman.
Didn’t that make her a phony, too? A fat girl hiding inside the body of woman who struggled every single day with her identity?
The stress of the past two years rolled toward her like a tsunami, leaving her to drown in the knowledge that the one person who had truly loved Willow had lied about everything.
She lay down on the bed and curled to her side, knocking the hat off. Every muscle ached, as if she’d had the crap beaten right out of her. Control, once everything, had been slowly stripped away, leaving her with the terrifying prospect she’d never gain her life back again. Did it even matter? It wasn’t even a life she felt proud of any longer.
She drew her knees to her chest and closed her eyes, almost wishing she’d been kept in the dark.
* * * *
Owen cracked open the house door, having knocked twice and gotten no answer. “Willow?”
“You said she was here, Daddy.”
Owen stuck his head inside and glanced around. “She was when I left.”
Henry squeezed into a spot near Owen’s legs, poking his long snout into the door opening. Owen leaned over to grab his collar, but as his finger grazed the band, the dog scooted inside. Before Owen could blink, the canine bolted halfway up the staircase, howling loud enough to wake the dead.
Jilly pushed past Owen. “I’ll get him.”
“Hold on, Jilly—” She took off as fast as her furry friend and hollered his name as she stomped up each step.
Owen debated following them. It was still Willow’s house and barging in would be considered rude. But he had to retrieve his belongings. At least they’d made so much noise, Willow wouldn’t be taken by surprise.
“Daddy, she’s up here.”
He walked up the stairs, following the sound of Jilly’s animated discussion about her school day. When he reached the room, he stood at the doorway.
Willow sat at the head of the bed with her legs crossed, her blond hair mussed on one side. A sheer scarf draped her neck. His gaze traveled the scarf’s length to the lopsided opening of her oxford shirt, which offered a glimpse of her cleavage. He shamefully enjoyed a peek a little longer than seemed right.
“Do you like my hat, Daddy?”
Jilly sat on the bed facing Willow, her legs crossed the same way. She wore a floppy brown hat too large for her head. Henry lay on his side between them, chewing on something.
“It’s gorgeous, baby. Where’d you get it?”
“It’s Willow’s mommy’s.”
He glanced at Willow. She offered a short smile and nodded, but a sadness resonated in her rich blue eyes. Owen wished he could read her mind.
Jilly continued to babble like a gentle brook about her school day while Willow listened intently. The way adults should listen to kids, but rarely did.
When Jilly finished, Willow smiled. “Gosh, that sounds like a fun game. Maybe you can teach me how to play.” She glanced at Owen. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock. I was out cold. Maybe I’m still jet-lagged.”
“It can take a little time.” A force tugged at his chest. Sympathy for her. Something he didn’t want to feel. Not if he were to keep a distance while trying to convince her to keep this place and him as caretaker.
“Good thing Henry woke me. Right, good boy?” Willow rubbed the dog’s stomach and his tail batted the mattress.
Owen walked closer to them. “For a dog that doesn’t often come when called, he sure seems to understand a lot of English.”
Willow laughed, but Jilly just shook her head. “Daddy, you know Henry just can’t help himself. It’s his breed.”
“Your mother made excuses for him, but I wish he’d listen better.” He reached over and petted the dog, because he could never be annoyed with him for long. He met Willow’s gaze. “Sorry we woke you. Do you want to keep cleaning or head back to the Clemmens? I can give you a ride.”
“But, Daddy.” Jilly frowned. “We brought Willow a treat and she promised I could look in her mum’s room today.”
“It’s true.” Willow nodded. “I thought Jilly might want to play dress up.” Her voice quieted. “Plus, I could use a break.”
Her mother’s room and clothes. Sadness explained. “Sure. You two ladies have some fun while I get our afternoon snack ready.”
“Yay!” Jilly clapped. She jumped off the bed and grabbed Willow’s hand, guiding her off the bed and toward the closet.
Owen turned to leave and remembered the call he made while waiting at school for Jilly. “Willow.” She turned, raised a brow. “My dad is a thatcher. I’ve asked him to take a look at the cottage roof. Should be out in a day or two.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Excuse me.” Jilly’s tiny hands wrapped around one of the silky long dresses hanging in the closet. “Can I wear whatever I want?”
Willow glanced at Owen for a second, then looked back at Jilly. “It has to be suitable for our afternoon snack time. Nothing too racy.”
“What’s racy mean?”
“We’ll know it when we see it.” Willow gave Owen a little smile and turned back to the clothes. “Now what about something like this one?”
Owen loved watching Jilly with Willow. His daughter had returned to herself, filled with the kind of energy and happiness she’d had around her mother. No matter how much love she got from him, Bea, and Owen’s parents, it would never fulfill what had been taken from her when her mother died.
All he wanted was Jilly to feel protected and happy, his goal to shield her from further change. But now, with the cottage about to be sold…
Panic seized him. “Willow?”
She turned from the closet. “Hmm?”
“Why don’t you take a day off tomorrow? Let me show you some of the sig
hts?”
Before she could say anything, Jilly grabbed the hem of a silk dress with a plunging neckline. “You should. Daddy is a good tour guide. Is this racy?”
Willow smiled down at her, then slowly lifted her head and looked back at Owen. “Okay. If Jilly recommends I do it, then we’re on.” She returned her attention to his daughter. “And yes, it’s racy.”
Owen went down the hallway. At the top of the stairs, he paused as Jilly’s faint voice carried down the hallway. “Do you miss your mum?”
“All the time.”
Willow stated it very matter-of-factly. She always spoke directly. Never offensive, but no curtseying around an issue for her.
Jilly replied, “I don’t know anybody else who lost their mum. I’m glad you’re my friend.”
“I’m glad I am, too,” Willow said, her voice softer.
Once downstairs, he busied himself getting their snack together, while the idea of Jilly growing closer to Willow niggled in the back of his thoughts. Just as he finished arranging the hot drinks and biscuits on the living room coffee table, the sound of footsteps made him look up.
Jilly and Willow entered the living room, their arms opened wide, shouting in unison, “Ta-da.”
Jilly wore what might have been a bright orange minidress to an adult, but it hung to her ankles. At her waist, the extra fabric had been cinched by a belt around her torso, creating a billowy effect. She still wore the floppy hat, and had added some long, beaded jewelry.
“How do I look, Daddy?”
“Gorgeous, princess! You look simply gorgeous.”
“What about Willow?”
Willow plopped her hand on her hip, pursed her lips, and threw back her head, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. She lifted her fingers in a peace sign. “What do you think? Am I the poster child for peace, love, and rock n’ roll?”
The bohemian, paisley-print, silky dress hugged her curves and the V-neck showed just enough of Willow’s cleavage to make a virile part of him squirm. Her sparkling eyes boosted the ensemble and the dramatic pose oozed confidence, and yet he swore he sometimes saw that self-assurance waver.
He couldn’t stop staring, or even put a clear sentence together as all his manly instincts ground his speech to a halt.
Willow frowned. “Oh, God. Is it that bad? I mean, it’s a little tight, but—”
“No! Not bad at all. Are you kidding me?” His neck warmed. “It’s that good.”
She arched a brow. “Oh, sure. Now you’re just saying that.”
“Come on, Rosebud.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Truth? You left me speechless.”
“Is speechless good?” Jilly asked.
“It’s real good.” His gaze met Willow’s and her fair skin blasted pink. “Great, in fact.”
She smiled. “Okay, let’s not lay it on too thick.” She laughed while shaking her head. “I’m fine with good.”
Relief he couldn’t explain washed over him. “I’m done setting up here and would consider myself a lucky man to have my afternoon tea with two gorgeous ladies.”
As they sat around the table, Jilly took a biscuit. “Daddy, why do you call her Rosebud?”
“It’s a nickname, like Jilly-bean.” He motioned to Willow’s neck, to the necklace he’d seen her wear every single day. “See? It’s a rosebud.”
Jilly went over and took a close look at the necklace while Willow waited patiently. She returned to her seat, shaking her head. “My daddy is silly sometimes.”
“Yes, he is.” Willow’s gaze shifted to Owen, her smile making a little something swell inside his chest.
Chapter 11
Owen turned left onto New Bond Street, parked along the curb, and hurried to his office. He reached the building and took the steps two at a time to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, he entered the office door and crossed into the small reception area.
Margo stopped typing and glanced up from her computer, watching him over the rims of half-framed reading glasses. “I can’t remember the last time you got in before 8:30.”
“Miracles can happen.” And he sure needed one today. Eddie would be dropping off Willow soon for their full-day tour and he hoped he could pique her interest in the area by the end of it.
“I just emailed you next week’s tour schedule.”
“How’s it look?” Owen inhaled the awakening scent of coffee and went straight to the pot.
She returned to her work. “We’ve got full tours almost every day.”
“Great news.” Maybe he’d start turning a profit on his investment soon. He stirred in cream, lifted his mug, and went over to Margo’s desk, taking a seat in the chair across from her. “I’m off on a personal mission and I’d like your advice.”
Margo turned to him and puffed her full chest, making the buttons on her tight blouse buckle. “You want my advice? Well, I’m arse over elbow.”
He chuckled. Margo’s colorful vocabulary after working in the office of a construction firm had followed her here, but she never used it around customers. “No need for sarcasm. I’m a bit uncomfortable with something I’m doing.”
She leaned back in her chair. “This day is starting to get interesting. Go on.”
“Remember I told you the owner of the estate I live on is here, and wants to sell the place?”
“I do.”
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. Saying this suddenly sounded ridiculous. “She’s a nice woman—”
“Oooh, a woman?” Margo slipped off the glasses and rested her elbows on her desk. “You never told me that. Older? Younger?”
“Around my age, I’d guess. But that doesn’t matter. What I want to ask you is if what I’m about to do seems wrong, and—”
She let out a hoot. “I see. A little one-on-one time with the landlady, eh?” She grinned.
“No! Good Lord, Margo.” His neck burned beneath his collar. Now he’d have to keep that quite pleasant image out of his head while with Willow today, especially after yesterday’s dress-up moment. “Please, let me finish.”
She chuckled. “Sorry, boss. Just teasing, you know?”
“I know. Here’s my dilemma. She’s never been to the area and, I thought, if she got to know what it has to offer, she might not want to sell. If she doesn’t sell, maybe Jilly and I won’t have to move anytime soon. Give her more time to adjust to…well, life as it is now.”
Margo’s head bobbed. “Oh, I see. And what do you want from me?”
“I-I don’t know. Like I said, she’s been very kind to Jilly and Henry. But do my motives seem…” He sighed. “A bit underhanded?”
She pursed her lips and thought for a short moment. “It’s really about not having to move Jilly, right?”
“That’s right. Plus keeping the dog. Not all places will accept animals. Otherwise, I’d never interfere in someone else’s decision. Bea suggested I just tell her my concerns about Jilly, but I can’t use guilt on the owner. That feels all wrong. In fact, maybe by trying to sell her on the area, I’m manipulating her into staying.”
Margo shrugged. “Nonsense. I don’t think what you’re doing is a big deal. You’re just showing her around. Frankly, it might be nice for her to see things before she sells. Go out. Have a nice day. Let the cards fall where they will.”
Owen’s guilt lessened and he permitted himself to feel a little better. “Okay, then. Thanks for listening.” He stood to go to his office.
“Is she pretty?”
He looked back. “What?”
“The landlady. Is she pretty?”
Owen’s face heated. “I guess she is. I really hadn’t noticed. Why do you ask?”
“Because, you haven’t been out with a woman since you started here and a guy like you should have lots of dates.”
“Okay, Yente.” He grinned. “When I need a matchmaker, I�
��ll let you know.” He went to his office, yelling to Margo, “I’m doing a little work before I leave.”
Owen got settled and turned on his computer. Last night, he’d begun a search for Ronald McBride on the internet to help Willow, but Jilly’s bedtime antics waylaid his efforts. By the time he returned to the living room, he’d forgotten what he’d been doing and got wrapped up in a television program. When Willow had mentioned that Hettie was her grandmother’s close friend, the quiet desperation in her eyes had driven a path straight to his heart.
He typed the man’s name in the search bar. Several appeared, a few on Facebook, so he went in that direction. The first had to be in his seventies, not Owen’s schoolmate. The second, though, lived near Bristol and a recognizable photo of Ronald, a few pounds heavier, gave Owen hope he’d found his man.
He tried to Google search a phone listing, and located it as unlisted, so instead he sent a Facebook friend request. All he could do for now.
For the next fifteen minutes, he returned some emails. Outside in the lobby, the door opened then closed. Willow’s voice carried into his office, although too low for him to hear what she said. He shut off the computer, gathered his cell phone and wallet, and left his office.
Willow stood in front of Margo’s desk, wearing black flats, a full skirt, and a white top that just skimmed the glorious waist and hips that were still burned into his mind from yesterday’s asset-hugging outfit. Her blond hair fell to her shoulders and curled at the tips.
“You don’t say.” Margo smiled at Willow. “Some day I’d love to visit New York City.”
Owen cleared his throat and Willow spun around. She wore makeup today. Owen hadn’t even noticed it missing all the other times he’d been with her, but now it enhanced her natural glow.
“Good morning.” She smiled, something about her more relaxed than usual.
Margo cleared her throat then arched her brow in a clear display of innuendo he hoped Willow hadn’t seen.
He focused on Willow. “Good morning. You’re early.”
“Eddie was anxious to drop me off so he could get to his appointment in town. I can wait.”
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