your grandma?” the little girl in pigtails asked.
“She died. And I don’t have a mom. It’s just me and my dad now.” Charlie fidgeted next to Travis, unaware of the bombshell she’d dropped.
Samantha slapped a hand over her mouth and tears flooded her eyes. Matt’s face drained of color. Travis searched out Dominick, but the old man had disappeared. A moment later, the echo of a slamming door thundered through the hallway.
Chapter Two
Travis wasn’t sure if his physical presence or the news of his mother’s death had caused his estranged father to leave the group. Regardless, Travis decided he wasn’t ready for this confrontation. “Charlie, let’s go.”
“Wait.” The blond woman named Renée stepped forward. “We were about to serve dessert. Please stay.”
“Last one to the kitchen’s a rotten egg.” Timmy took off, and the other kids followed. Renée held out her hand to Charlie.
Noticing Samantha’s pleading expression, Travis decided it wouldn’t hurt to answer a few questions about their mother. “Go ahead,” Travis urged his daughter.
Matt’s wife kissed his cheek, then joined the others in the kitchen. Samantha gazed into her husband, Wade’s, eyes and Travis swore the couple shared an entire conversation without speaking a word. Wade hugged her, shot Travis a be-nice-to-my-wife glare and left.
“I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” Duke said before vacating the hallway.
Travis nodded to the door Dominick had slammed moments earlier. “Maybe you should check on your father.” He’s yours, too. True, but for all intents and purposes, he and Dominick Cartwright were strangers who happened to look alike.
“This is unbelievable.” Samantha cast a worried glance down the hallway.
“We could all use a drink,” Matt said. They filed into the parlor and Travis positioned himself in front of the windows. His sister collapsed on the leather sofa and Matt poured scotch into three glasses at the wet bar. After serving the drinks, he sat in the chair near the fireplace.
Travis swirled the gold liquid in the crystal glass, thinking this was a three- or four-shot occasion—not a one-shot. He wasn’t a conservative drinker, thanks to his chosen career. As soon as his two-week rotation on the rig ended and he stepped onto the mainland, Travis and his coworkers headed straight for the local bars to blow off steam. Even though he hadn’t seen the harm in his bi-monthly binges, his mother had nagged him to cut back on his alcohol consumption. He hadn’t appreciated her concern until she’d been diagnosed with cancer. After helping to raise Charlie, Travis owed his mother a lot more than a promise to watch his drinking. He would have done anything for his mom if it would have cured her illness.
Then she’d died and he’d discovered his whole life had been a lie. He’d grown up a latchkey kid, living in one-bedroom apartments because that’s all his mom could afford on a secretary’s salary. Only when he’d landed the job on his first rig had they been able to scrape together the down payment for a small house. He hadn’t resented going without as a child—it was all he’d ever known. But the knowledge that he was the son of a wealthy oilman made him bitter.
“If you didn’t look so much like our father,” Matt said, “I’d accuse you of fabricating the story of Charlotte’s death in order to blackmail Dad.”
“I’ve lived thirty years without a dime of Cartwright oil money. No reason I can’t go another thirty years without it.” Travis sipped his scotch, savoring the burn of alcohol against his throat. Even though he understood his sibling’s mistrust, he hated that he had to defend himself when he was the one who’d been wronged.
Samantha waved a hand in the air. “Enough talk about money. How did Charlotte die?”
“Cancer. Multiple myeloma,” Travis said.
Matt tossed his drink back in one swallow. “What kind of cancer is that?”
“A tumor of the bone-marrow cells. Mom was diagnosed two years ago. After treatment she went into remission, which lasted nine months.”
“When did she die?” Samantha wiped at a lone tear on her cheek.
Travis felt empathy for his sister, the emotion surprising him. He didn’t know this woman, yet he couldn’t deny their physical similarities and the weird connection he felt in his gut when they made eye contact.
“Mom passed away three weeks ago.” Travis cursed the lump that formed in his throat. He was done crying for his mother. “I’m sorry.” Not that the apology meant anything coming from a complete stranger.
“Did Charlotte ever talk about Matt and me?” Samantha asked.
“No.” His answer startled Matt, and Travis regretted his bluntness.
“How did you find out about us?” Matt asked.
“Mom kept a diary.” She’d mentioned leaving Dominick and her two children—something poetic about heeding the call of her heart. All bullshit. When her remission ended, the entries had turned morose and she’d confessed that she’d regretted forsaking Matt and Samantha for a chance to be with her true love. Travis had yet to figure out just who the hell her true love had been. There had never been another man in his mother’s life—at least not one that Travis had known about.
“Do you have Charlotte’s diary with you?” Samantha asked.
“Yes.” Maybe his sister and brother would find solace in her words. The diary had only pissed off Travis.
Matt shot out of the chair and paced in front of the fireplace. “I just remembered something.” He stared at Travis. “This past summer Dad confessed that he should have gone after Charlotte when she’d walked out on us years ago. But he said his pride got in the way and he’d believed that she’d come to her senses and return on her own. Then months passed and there was no word from her, so Dad filed for divorce.”
Feeling shaky, Travis left his post at the window and joined Samantha on the couch. What would his life have been like if his mother had had a change of heart and returned to the Lazy River? Or if Dominick had gone after her and convinced her to give their marriage another try?
“Did Dominick talk about our mother often?” Travis directed the question to Matt.
“Anytime Sam or I asked questions about her, Dad changed the subject.” Matt glanced at Samantha. “Before Amy and I married, I considered hiring a private detective to find Charlotte.”
“You did?” Samantha’s expression softened.
Travis envied his siblings’ close relationship. All these years he’d believed growing up an only child had been better than having to share a bedroom, clothes or toys with a brother or sister. He wasn’t so sure now.
“I mentioned my plan to you, Sam, but you talked me out of it,” Matt said.
“Really?” Samantha spoke her next words to Travis. “When I was a teenager, I had an accident—a horse kicked me in the head and I almost died.” She smiled. “But I survived.” The smile flipped
