“Yes.” Hettie’s gave her a sad smile. “I wish I could remember more. You can always check the Kent records for the name Armstrong. Maybe her cousin still lives in the area.”
“Yes. Yes. I will. Since my mother passed, I thought I had no family left.” A hard lump lodged in her throat. “Learning this, it means everything.”
Owen reached out and rested his hand on Willow’s back, where he rubbed in a slow circle. She shifted her gaze to his, comforted by the deep understanding lingering in his eyes. She swallowed and forced a smile.
She returned to the photo pile. “Here’s another. Do you know who that boy is with my mother?”
Hettie’s forehead wrinkled then she nodded. “Oh, yes. Sean. I’m surprised to see him with Chloe.”
“Why?”
“Because Derrick got along with everybody, but Sean’s father and he had some big falling-out. Business related, I think. But those two wanted nothing to do with each other.”
Willow’s heart banged against her ribs. “Do you recall Sean’s last name?”
Hettie’s lips pursed, accentuating the age wrinkles around her mouth. “Sean…oh, what was it? His father, Mickey, worked at the local butcher.” She tapped her fingers on the table.
Willow bit her tongue so she didn’t scream for answers.
“I’m sorry. The memory works pretty well, but every so often it fails me.”
“That’s okay. Maybe it’ll come to you.” Willow patted her hand, despite the letdown unfurling inside of her. “On the back of the photo, he wrote that he loved my mother.”
Hettie turned over the photo and stared at the message. “Funny, Sarah never told me that. In fact, she refused to tell me who got Chloe pregnant. Only shared about them pressuring Chloe to give the baby up for adoption.”
Willow swallowed. Give her up for adoption.
A logical choice, but it still stung. “Do you think that’s why my mother ran away? To keep me, not give me up?”
Hettie shrugged. “It had to be. Like I said, Derrick was stubborn, but so was Chloe.” Hettie stared at her folded hands. “People can be so foolish about their pride. All I know is my friends were never quite the same after losing her.”
“No. I imagine not.” Willow leaned back in her seat. “So many lives not what they could have been. All because of one woman’s choices.”
They were all quiet, deep in their own thoughts, when Hettie blurted out, “Bloody hell. I can’t remember his last name.” Owen raised his brows, but Hettie didn’t seem to notice. “He spent time with Willy Donnagan, a boy who lived on my street.” Her eyes widened and she looked at Owen. “Ronnie might remember. By the way, did you know he has two daughters now?”
“Does he now? How old are they?”
Hettie started to talk about her grandchildren, and Owen gave her his full attention, even asking further questions about them. Such a good guy. Willow had been lucky to stumble upon him on this journey.
She pulled out a small pad and wrote down the information Hettie provided. If she found these answers to the puzzle of her life, she’d find the rest.
A few minutes later, Owen made eye contact with Willow, tipping his head to the door. She nodded.
He stood and went around the table. “It was nice to see you again, Hettie.” He pulled a card from his wallet. “If you remember anything else, I can be reached here.”
She took the card and read it. “Okay. Nice to see you too, Owen.” She looked at Willow as she got to her feet. “My dear, I hope you find answers. Your mother never should have kept this from you, but I’m certain my friends would’ve been proud of you.”
Willow went to Hettie and hugged her tight. “I’m glad we met and appreciate you taking time to talk me.”
“Oh, my dear. I have nothing but time these days.” She took Willow’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “There’s something special about you, just like your mother.”
Willow’s eyes watered. “Thank you, Hettie. I’ll never forget meeting you.”
They motioned to the orderly, who came over and rolled Hettie to an elevator. A few steps from the door leading out, the orderly yelled for them to wait.
Hettie waved them over, so they hurried to her chair.
“It’s Cooke. Sean Cooke. With an e.” She beamed. “Everything else on my body is going, but the old noggin never fails me.”
“Cooke, with an e.” Willow wanted to scream her joy, but instead gave Hettie another hug. “You’ve been a huge help.”
“Let me know what you find.”
They promised to visit again. As soon as they got outside, Owen took Willow’s arm and drew her close. “Are you all right?”
“I think so. In a short amount of time, everything I’ve ever known as true has changed. Now I know part of the story. My mother’s diary said she wouldn’t tell Sean about the pregnancy for some reason, but did he suspect?”
“Only one person can tell us.”
She nodded. “Sean Cooke.”
“We can check on the internet for his name.”
We. Owen had joined her crusade. She stared into his serious, dark eyes. “Your help with this is immeasurable, Owen. It’s been a rough couple of years. These are the first signs that maybe my luck has changed.”
“Why have you had a bad time?”
“It’s hard to know where to begin. For starters, I’m the founder and CEO of a weight-loss company and…” She let go of his hand waved hers in front of her body. “My weight gain has become an issue.” Her cheeks burned with the confession. “And—”
“Your weight is perfect. Stop talking like that. You’re special, like Hettie said.”
She wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe this handsome man found her beautiful, even perfect. But she didn’t. His intense gaze scrutinized her, making it hard to confess the messy state of her life.
She trusted Owen, though. “How about we get in the car and start back to Bitton? I’ll tell you all about my shitty year while you drive.”
* * * *
“After the pizza incident, the board members publicly announced they may fire me.” Willow’s voice cracked.
For the first time, Owen spotted weakness in Willow’s stoic exterior. Not when she disclosed her husband’s infidelity or public belittlement. Not when she discussed the theft of both company and personal funds. Only every single time she mentioned her weight, her cheeks flushed and her voice lost its usual confidence.
Owen glanced her way. “Was the pizza worth it?” He grinned, hoping she’d smile. “I mean, there’s nothing like good pizza.”
She blurted out a laugh. “You know, it was a damn good slice.”
He soaked in her joy momentarily before she returned to that practical and straightforward woman he’d met a short time ago.
“The night the pizza debacle aired, I had to do something. I went looking for an old bank passbook, figuring I could use the money to go to a spa where I might lose this weight. Then maybe, just maybe, the board would let me stay. I found the money—all I have. Funny. Years ago, I’d been too upset to look at my mother’s belongings, but never did I dream there’d be a will from her parents. Finding I owned this house changed everything.”
Owen swallowed back his shame. His first impression from the company website made him believe she owned a fortune. But she’d lost not only her money, but so much more. He felt sorrier for her than he did himself.
His silly plan to encourage her keep the property in England had busted wide open. He’d been a fool. A selfish fool. At least she didn’t know what he’d been up to.
He glanced to the passenger’s seat. “The sale of this house, then, will help you get back on your feet.”
“Yes.” She stared out her window. “And walking Cotswold Way alone may seem illogical to you. Maybe it is.” She shifted in the seat and turned to face him. “But
doing so just feels necessary. My gut is just telling me to do it. I—I need to feel strong again. Walking those hundred miles, it just might do the trick.”
She offered a weak smile, but it traveled to his core. Gut calls meant everything. Owen had trusted his instincts his whole life. Even if it meant losing his father’s love. “I understand. But I won’t lie. I’ll be worried about you out there alone.”
The lines of her face softened. “Oh, Owen. That is so kind.” She reached over and rested her hand over the top of his, sitting on the gearshift. “I appreciate your worrying, though.”
He stopped at a traffic light, where he turned and stared into her pretty eyes. Determined eyes. Their intensity so powerful he willed them to give him strength, too. If she could do this, why didn’t he feel strong enough to keep his daughter protected and happy? No matter where they lived?
“Then alone on the trail it is. How about I give you a few tips so you can gear up for it properly?”
“Tips would be fantastic. Hold on.” She moved her hand to go into her purse, leaving him already missing her warmth. She withdrew a small pad and pen. “Okay, what are they?”
Owen talked about the terrain, footwear, finding a good walking stick, and more. More than anything, he wanted her to have this success and would do everything to make it happen. But that didn’t change his own need to keep track of her on the walk. If not for her, for his own peace of mind.
Chapter 16
Owen pulled into his former in-laws’ short driveway, cut the engine, and got of the car. On his way to the door of the detached brick house, he got lost in thoughts of his duplicity. His hidden agenda to convince Willow to keep the house made him a real cad.
Before he could knock, Bea pulled open the door. “I heard you pull in. Figured we could spare ourselves Henry’s excitement over the doorbell ringing. Come on into the kitchen. I’ve something about to come out of the oven.”
He stepped inside. “Smells good. Cookies?”
She nodded as she walked down the short hallway to the kitchen. “Jilly wanted some.”
Owen followed her, stopping at the opening to the bright galley kitchen.
“How was the trip to Bristol?” Bea removed a tray from the oven and set it on the stovetop. “Did Willow learn anything new?”
“She did. Seems Hettie had been close to Willow’s grandparents. She was able to share some wonderful stories about them.” Earlier, he’d told Bea how Willow wanted to talk to her grandmother’s friend, but it didn’t seem right to divulge the more personal reasons behind the venture. “Thanks for taking Jilly. Where is she?”
“Upstairs watching a show in the guest bedroom. She played outside earlier but it started to sprinkle.” Bea glanced to the window over the sink as she took a plate from a cabinet and put it on the creamy marble countertop. “Now it’s stopped. Weird weather day.” She grabbed a spatula, slipped it under a cookie, and plated it. “Everything okay? You’ve got that look.”
“I have a look?”
Bea paused and tilted her head. “Well, yes. You just get—well, you’re missing that relaxed glow we’re used to seeing.”
Owen leaned against the counter. “You’re not wrong. I do have something on my mind.” He stole a hot cookie off the plate and warm chocolate burned his fingertips. “I’m in a situation and not sure what to do about it.”
“What’s the problem?”
He told her about Willow’s misfortunes in New York. “In short, I feel horrible about the way I tried to get her to like it here so she wouldn’t sell.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Owen. You’ve always been that way. Even when Tracey told you she wanted a divorce, you blamed yourself.” Sadness flashed in her tired eyes. It struck him how Bea always looked tired since Tracey died. “We both know it was my daughter’s problems that broke things down between you.”
“Maybe. I think we both played a role in it.” Even as the marriage ended, he wondered if he’d tried hard enough. Tracey never made it easy, though. “Still, this thing I’ve done to Willow just feels wrong. My motives were so calculating.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She finished plating the cookies, and glanced his way. “You’re not calculating.”
“Normally, I’m not. But this time I may have been.” He blew out a heavy sigh. “Willow’s had a terribly rough time and here I was, only thinking about myself.”
“No. You were thinking about your daughter.” She dumped the cookie sheet in the sink and turned back to him. “Big difference.”
“It’s a gray area, Bea.” An urge came over him to tell Bea the real reason his actions bothered him. “Fact is, there’s something about Willow I just can’t shake.”
Bea smiled gently. “Yes. When I walked in on you two dancing to Sinatra I could tell.”
Heat brushed Owen’s cheeks. He dropped his gaze to the white-tiled floor and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Guess you caught us.” He glanced up. “Willow is smart. Feisty, but not over the top, and plain fun to be around. I swear, she lives and breathes courage.”
“And she’s pretty.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I kind of noticed.”
“Good. I’m glad you did.” She touched his arm. “Ask her out on a date. Go enjoy yourself. I haven’t seen you do much for yourself since you came back to town.”
A true statement. He’d dated plenty of women during his travels, but since returning here, his focus had been Jilly. He patted Bea’s hand. “Maybe I will.”
“Good.” She turned to the sink and began to clean. “Now that you know her, why don’t you tell her the truth about the cottage and what it means to you? Willow adores Jilly. Maybe Willow can find a way to make it work so you don’t have to leave, but she can still get what she needs. Explain how you’re short on cash, that you invested in your business and how, until it starts showing a profit, you’re just strapped for cash.”
“No way.” He pushed away from the counter and paced the small kitchen. “I can’t guilt her into accepting less for the property.” He went to Bea’s side near the sink. “She needs every cent she can get.”
He stared out into the back yard, wracking his brain to find a way to solve both their problems that didn’t leave a pit in his gut. “I’ll have to find a place to live that fits in my limited budget. And if we can’t keep the dog, then we can’t keep him.”
“What?” Jilly’s quiet voice came from the doorway. That second, Henry darted into the kitchen and ran to Owen.
Owen ignored the excited dog, his mind racing to backtrack whatever Jilly might have heard.
Bea’s face went ashen, but somehow she managed a smile. “All done with your show, honey?”
“Yes.” Jilly approached Owen, her frown deepening each passing second. “We’re moving?”
Lie to her. Lie!
Words got stuck in his throat. The truth sat on one shoulder, poking him with a reminder of the inevitable. On the other side sat a lie, short-term an easier way out. Honesty mattered, though. An important trait he wanted to teach his daughter.
He crouched down and took her by the shoulders. “There’s a chance we may have to, sweetheart. If Willow sells her property, our cottage is part of it and will go to the new owner.”
“But you said we might have to get rid of Henry.” Her lower lip quivered, matching the shaking in his gut. “I—I don’t want to.”
“Neither do I, honey, but not all places take dogs.”
Tears spilled down Jilly’s cheeks. Owen hugged her and mentally beat himself up over every decision he’d made since returning here. Dumping his savings in a new business had been impulsive. Selfish. All to avoid Dad’s offer of work.
Jilly sobbed louder, a sound that sliced right through his heart. Honesty stank.
“Baby, I will do everything I can to keep Henry. Please. Don’t cry.” He brushed away
some wetness on her soft cheek.
The sobs stopped, but the tears didn’t. “But—but Willow.” Sniff. Sniff. “She’s my friend. Can’t we ask her not to sell it so we can stay?”
Her glistening eyes showed signs of hope, their power piercing his heart. “Sweetheart, I can’t do that to Willow. She’s…” He paused and searched for the right words to frame this so a six-year-old would understand. “Willow has problems and needs money very badly.”
“But, Daddy, she loves Henry and me.”
Owen swallowed the big, fat lump in his throat. “Listen to me, Jilly. Daddy promises to find us a place to live. I’ll do everything possible to include Henry in our arrangement. Okay?”
She stared at the floor, nodding as a stray tear rolled along her cheek.
“You have to make me a promise. Can you?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, still avoiding his eyes.
“Look at me, Jilly.”
She lifted her glistening eyes.
“You cannot ever tell Willow what you just heard.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” He drew in a breath. “It isn’t fair to her. She does care about you, and Henry. But we cannot make Willow feel bad about selling this place. It belongs to her and…” He drew in a breath, calculating the impact of his explanation. “Basically, she let us borrow it for a while. Now we might have to return the cottage. We will be okay. Do you understand?”
He waited, and she finally quietly said, “Yes. I don’t want to make Willow feel bad.”
“Good. Then we keep this secret and do everything to make Willow happy while she’s here.”
“I will.”
Owen pulled her close and hugged her tightly, with every bit of love he possessed for her.
Henry slipped in between them and began licking Jilly’s cheek. His daughter giggled, easing the tension in the room. But it didn’t lift Owen’s pain over possibly disappointing her.
When the dog settled down, Owen took Jilly’s hand. “Just remember, I always love you and am going to make sure this works out for us.”
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