A Daughter’s Trust
By
Tara Taylor Quinn
And
For the Love of Family
By
Kathleen O’Brien
A Daughter’s Trust
By
Dear Reader,
Welcome to THE DIAMOND LEGACY continuity! Four of us authors got together and planned one heck of a present. We had a great time making this happen—and, as we read one another’s stories, we shed some tears, too. Because isn’t that what life is all about? Being there for one another through the ups and downs.
In case you’re wondering if I really believe this stuff, let me assure you, I do. I believe in the messages we send out with every single book: that love is truly strong enough to conquer all, that true love is real, powerful and all around us.
I picked up my first Mills & Boon® novel when I was fourteen. I was waiting in line with my mother at the grocery store. I was bored. There was a cardboard display of books. Take one free, it read. So I did. I read the book, too. And I read a Mills & Boon book a day throughout high school and into college. I told everyone who would listen that I was going to write for Mills & Boon someday. I majored in English in college so I could write for Mills & Boon. I ignored the condescending looks. The naysayers. I learned from the myriad rejection letters that Mills & Boon sent to me—letters where they always encouraged me even while they were telling me my work wasn’t up to their standards. I never gave up. It took six years, but I finally did get that call. They were buying my book! And this year marks the release of my fiftieth original title!
Readers, writers and the publisher that gives us all hope—we have a lot to celebrate.
Tara Taylor Quinn
With over fifty original novels, published in more than twenty languages, TARA TAYLOR QUINN is a USA TODAY bestselling author with over six million copies sold. She is known for delivering deeply emotional and psychologically astute novels. Quinn is a four-time finalist for the RWA RITA® Award, winner of a National Readers Choice Award, a multiple finalist for the Reviewers Choice Award, the Booksellers Best Award and the Holt Medallion. Quinn recently married her college sweetheart, and the couple currently lives in Ohio with their two very demanding and spoiled bosses—four-pound Taylor Marie and fifteenpound rescue mutt/cockapoo Jerry. When shes not writing for Mills & Boon and MIR A Books or fulfilling speaking engagements, Quinn loves to travel with her husband, stopping wherever the spirit takes them. Theyve been spotted in casinos and quaint little small-town antique shops across the country.
For Kelly Barney, a young woman who knows what it means to open her heart to a new family member. I am very, very proud to be a member of your family. You are in my heart forever.
Chapter One
GRANDMA’S FUNERAL WAS ON a Friday. Baby Carrie woke up with a stuffy nose that morning. Camden spat up his formula. Not a good day to leave them with a sitter.
But Sarah Sue Bookman had no choice. At home, alone with her kids, having a baby on each arm was relatively easy. The norm. She could do it in her sleep. Had done it in her sleep.
But inside the sacred walls of Saint Ignatius…with Grandma Sarah really gone…Having to say goodbye…
She had to leave the babies with Barb.
SITTING IN THE SECOND ROW of pews in the hugely imposing, historic San Francisco church, Sue could sense the ghosts of saints around her. In the Italianate architecture, in the candlelit altars lining both sides of the nave.
Approving? Disapproving? Did they know how angry she was? How unwillingly she was giving up Grandma to them?
She tried to focus on the priest, who’d known Grandma Sarah for many years, instead of on the open casket where her body lay.
Sue had expected this day to come eventually. Grandma was eighty years old. But it hurt worse than anything she’d imagined.
Maybe if they’d had warning. Maybe if Grandma had been sick for weeks or months, instead of a few days. Maybe then…
The pastor talked about Sarah Carson’s generosity, her need to love everyone who came into her sphere—most particularly children. Just last week, when Sue had taken the babies on their regular visit to the house in Twin Peaks where her mother had been born and raised, Grandma had insisted Sue leave Camden and Carrie with her and hike a trail to the top of the peak. Something she’d been doing for as long as she could remember.
A hike she’d never take again. At least not from Grandma’s house. Not coming home to iced tea and conversation with the only person she’d ever felt truly safe with.
Father John talked about the one child Sarah had borne, Sam, Sue’s uncle. He was sitting in the front pew with his wife, Emily, and their daughter, Belle, who was two years younger than Sue.
Sarah had raised a fine man in Sam, the priest said, a man who could be relied on to lead the Carson family, to care for them, to carry on in the absence of his parents. With his car dealership that employed almost a hundred people, and his standing in the community, he was a testimony to the life Sarah Carson had lived.
And then the white-robed father looked at the woman sitting next to Sue. He spoke of the infant daughter Sarah Carson and her now deceased, beloved husband, Robert, had adopted. Jenny.
Sue’s mother.
Sue gave her mom’s hand—glued to her with their combined sweat—a comforting squeeze as the priest droned on about Jenny’s life as evidence of the mother Sarah had been. Sue’s father, seated on the other side of his wife with his arm around her, tightened his embrace, and rubbed the side of Sue’s arm with the back of his hand at the same time.
That’s how it had always been with them. Jenny and Luke together through every step of life, keeping Sue firmly within the bonds of their love.
Sue loved them. Yet she’d entertained the uncharitable thought, often enough for her to write her own sentence to hell, that if Jenny had had her way, all three of the Bookmans would dress like triplets.
All the time instead of just the vacation shirts. The Bookmans Take Manhattan. The Bookmans Do Hawaii. The Bookmans Visit Mickey.
When the Bookmans flew to Italy—The Bookmans Roam Rome—Sue had refused to wear the shirt. She would never forget her mother’s crestfallen expression as they’d left the house early that Saturday morning on their way to the airport.
She’d been nine
