“What is this about?”
Shari’s friendly expression softened. “Your grandfather on your father’s side. He’s been looking for you, hon. I’m hoping he’s found you.”
Callie felt her legs go weak. “That’s not possible. There is no...”
No father? Of course there was a father—she hadn’t hatched—but what she knew about him was sketchy at best.
Her mother had met a charming salesman at a convention. She’d been one of the models, as much on display as the product she was selling. Jerry Carlesso had walked over, smiled and introduced himself. According to Callie’s mother, that had been the end of it. She’d fallen wildly, madly in love. Three months later, she’d turned up pregnant and Jerry had taken off.
He hadn’t wanted anything to do with his daughter. He’d sent child support on and off, had never visited. Callie knew next to nothing about him. As for a grandfather, there was no way.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly, raising her chin.
“So the name Jerry Carlesso doesn’t mean anything to you?”
Callie had a bad feeling her expression gave her away.
Shari nodded toward her car. “There’s a nice little place about three blocks from here. We’ll have coffee and split a Danish. That way neither of us have to count the calories. I’ll talk, you’ll listen, then you can make up your mind about what you want to do.”
Callie thought about how she finally had her life together. Okay, things weren’t great, but she was doing fine. She was saving money, working her jobs and in time, she would figure out how to be more than what she was with the albatross of her conviction hanging around her neck. She didn’t need anyone, ever. That had become her rule to survive. She was completely and totally on her own.
Only when Shari held open the passenger door, she found herself walking toward the car. Before she could get her scrambled thoughts together, they were pulling out on the street and then it seemed silly not to go in and get coffee and a Danish and hear Shari out.
It was still early for the lunch crowd. She and Shari found a quiet booth at the back of the small café. They ordered coffee and agreed to split a cheese Danish. When the coffee had been poured, Shari pulled a folder out of her Kate Spade tote.
“All right. Your mother is Annette Smith. You are Callie Smith and you were born in Norman, Oklahoma, September 27, 1991. Your father is Jerry Carlesso, who had an affair with your mother, denied paternity but paid child support.” Shari flipped through her notes, then wrinkled her nose. “He wasn’t very regular with the payments.” She looked up. “Is that right?”
Callie could only shrug. Everything about the moment was far too surreal. She never thought about her father. She’d never met the man and her mother hadn’t talked about him beyond saying their relationship hadn’t worked out and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Callie guessed he hadn’t been the nicest guy on the planet and had often wondered if she got the dark parts of her personality from him.
“So here’s the story,” Shari said with a smile. “At least as much as I know. Your father passed away a couple years ago. His father, your paternal grandfather—” Shari slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”
“Blurted out what?”
“That your dad’s dead. I’m horrible. Please forgive me.”
“You’re way more upset than me,” Callie told her. “I never met the man and he abandoned my mom when he found out she was pregnant. I honestly never think of him, so there’s no sense of loss. It’s fine.”
“Still. I have got to be more sensitive. I have three boys. I think they’ve worn me down.” Shari drew in a breath. “Okay, back to your family. You still have a paternal grandfather, Alberto, along with a half brother and a half sister. They all live in Seattle. If you’re who I think you are, then the family would like to meet you.”
A brother and a sister? A grandfather? Callie hadn’t had any family beyond her mother. Not ever. It had always been just the two of them. Since losing her mom five years ago, it had only been her, which was how she liked it.
Her stomach tightened and she found it a little tough to draw in a breath.
“So here’s the thing,” Shari said. “We have to confirm the family connection using a DNA test. I need to swab your cheek and overnight it to the lab. They’ll get it tomorrow and we’ll get a call on Wednesday.” She grinned. “They can do the test in like twenty-four hours. It’s pretty rad.”
Callie managed a smile. “Rad?”
Shari groaned. “Damn kids. Anyway, that’s where we are. Once the DNA test confirms you’re part of the family, I have a ticket to Seattle for you.”
Callie’s chest tightened even more. “I’m not sure I want to meet them. I mean it’s all happening so fast. I need to think.”
Shari leaned toward her. “Oh, you’ll want to meet them. They’re very well-off and there’s a trust fund set up for you, Jerry’s oldest daughter. If they’re your family, you should go. I’ve been looking for you for nearly two months. You were hard to find. Some of it is your last name is so common and some of it is you don’t want to be found.”
Callie shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t exactly live off the grid, but she had very little contact with the digital world. Plus she’d moved frequently since getting out of prison. First to the halfway house, then to a series of rented rooms until she’d found the one she was in now.
“I wasn’t hiding,” she said defensively.
“I know, hon. This is a lot. Once the DNA test is confirmed, I have a bunch of information to give you, but until then, consider the possibility. It might be the second chance you’ve been hoping for.”
Callie flushed. She shouldn’t be surprised that Shari knew about her past—it would have been the first thing to pop during an investigation. But still, it was humiliating. And something she was never going to be able to put behind her, she thought grimly.
“They know?” she asked.
“Your grandfather does. I don’t know if he’s told anyone else.”
“We don’t know he’s my grandfather.”
Shari hesitated, then pulled a photograph out of her tote. It was black-and-white and obviously taken at a professional shoot years and years ago. The woman in the picture was about Callie’s age and looked enough like her that they could have been sisters. Their eyes had the same shape, as did their mouths and the slope of their shoulders.
“Your paternal grandmother,” Shari said. “She’s no longer with us, but when Alberto sent me this, I just knew I’d found you.” She nodded at the picture. “You can keep that.”
Callie touched the picture gingerly—half afraid of claiming it or the woman in the photograph. How could this be happening? She was twenty-six and she knew nothing about her father or his family. To have them show up now made no sense. She should get up and walk away.
