sorry to hear that,” she said, but he could tell the condolences were by rote.
“You don’t have to do that.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Pretend to be sorry that his health is declining.” His words came out stiffer than he meant them to be. He was trying to let her off the hook, to create a common ground between them. She may not have as many reasons to hate his father as he did, but she surely had plenty.
Instead, his words ended up sounding slightly accusatory—and cold… something his father would have said. Why was it that he could talk to almost anyone except Laney?
“I…” Her frown deepened as her mouth pressed into a line of confusion. “I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.”
Shoot. He was making this even worse than it was. “I know.” Why did it feel like there were many things he wanted to say to her and none of them were the right ones?
Instead of fumbling through any more explanations, he pulled out a copy of the letter and handed it to her. “A week ago my father received this.”
Laney looked from him to the paper he held out. “What does it have to do with my grandmother?”
Was it his imagination, or did her voice tremble slightly? “Please read the letter. Then I’ll explain.”
She nodded. Her frown only deepened as she read. She glanced up after a few seconds. She must have been disconcerted at how closely he was watching her, because she turned away to finish the letter, her hand fluttering nervously by her hair as she read.
She was a quick reader, and soon she looked back at him and said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t see what this has to do with Gran.”
“Hollister Cain wants this girl found.”
Laney extended the letter back to him with a sigh that sounded almost relieved. “And the girl’s mother seems rather determined to keep her hidden,” she pointed out with an arched little smile.
Dalton found himself smiling back, despite the bizarre circumstances. “Yes, but this is Hollister we’re talking about. Little things like other people’s wishes don’t bother him much.”
“Hold on a second,” Laney said abruptly. “You don’t think…” She physically recoiled. “You don’t think my mother wrote the letter? You don’t think I’m the missing heiress?”
The expression of disgust on her face was so strong he nearly laughed. “No, of course not. Anyone who’s seen a picture of your father couldn’t mistake you for anyone’s daughter but his.”
She chuckled—and again he wondered at the relief he heard in the sound. Then she gestured to her nose. “Right. The Fortino nose. It is hard to miss.”
Her nose was distinctive—a little larger than most women probably preferred and with a patrician bump—but it fit her face, blending seamlessly with the rest of her features. He’d grown up in a world where a woman’s facial imperfections were stamped out like cockroaches. He loved that she’d never had her nose done, which wasn’t exactly the smooth segue that would lead them back to the questions he needed answers to. So he went for direct instead.
“No, it never occurred to me that your mother might have written the letter. But your grandmother was the Cain housekeeper for nearly thirty years. I thought she might know something.”
“About your father’s romantic indiscretions? I can’t imagine why she would. That hardly fell under her purview.”
“No. She wouldn’t have time to manage the house if it had.” He quickly explained his reasoning. “She worked for my father longer than most Cain Enterprises employees. If my father had any secrets, she knew them. If my parents fought, she overheard it. If there’s anyone with dirt on my family, it’s your grandmother.”
As he spoke, Laney looked down at the owl again. She ran her hand over the pretend feathers and gave the wing a little tug.
When she didn’t meet his gaze, he continued, “I visited the assisted-living center she’s at. They wouldn’t even let me in without your approval. I need to talk to her. You have to let me see her.”
Laney’s shoulders stiffened. “I no longer have any connection to your family. I don’t have to do anything.”
It was his turn to clench his jaw. He wasn’t Hollister’s son for nothing. He knew when to grovel. “Will you please grant me access to your grandmother?”
“No.” She held up a hand, warding off the arguments she could see percolating. “She doesn’t know anything. She can’t give you any information.”
Finally, she turned and met his gaze. Her own was clear and determined, but he didn’t let that bother him.
“I can make it worth your while,” he said.
“Of course you can. You’re a Cain. You Cains are experts at making lavish promises.”
“I may be a Cain, but I’m not my father. I plan on keeping any promises I make.”
“Kudos to you for knowing the difference between a promise made and a promise kept.”
“We’re not all heartless bastards,” he reminded her.
“That remains to be seen.” She gave the owl another pat on the head and turned to face him fully. “However, it’s immaterial. I’m not keeping you from Gran on a whim. She can’t help you.”
“Let me talk to her. Let her decide that.”
“It’s not that simple. Gran has Alzheimer’s. Even if she did know something, she’d be unable to tell you. If she ever knew the answers to your questions, the information is locked away in her head.”
Laney’s words sank slowly into his brain. Their meaning was almost incomprehensible. “Alzheimer’s?” he repeated stupidly.
Laney didn’t meet his gaze, and he thought there might have been a sheen of tears in her eyes.
His mind flitted through his memories of Laney’s grandmother, Mrs. Fortino as he’d always called her, because his own mother had always insisted on maintaining that level of formality with the staff. Matilda Fortino had been a battleship of a woman. Serious and stern, she’d been a rock in his childhood. Where his own mother had been mercurial and temperamental, Mrs. Fortino had been stalwart and consistent—a steady force in a tumultuous household.
Suddenly he felt Laney’s hand on his arm. He looked up to realize she’d crossed to stand beside him. Shock had rocked him back so he leaned against the corner of one of the bookcases.
“Didn’t you know?” Her words cut through the fog her news had cast over his brain.
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I assumed the assisted-living center told you why she’s not allowed visitors.”
“They didn’t. Only that you’d have to come with me if I wanted to see her.”
