A South Texas Christmas. Stella Bagwell

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A South Texas Christmas - Stella Bagwell Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish

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from sweet to clipped and cool.

      “I’ve been waiting twenty-four years to find my mother’s lost identity, Mr. Rankin. Surely your lunch appointment can wait for five more minutes.”

      Her words knocked the air from him and for a moment all he could do was grip the phone and stare at Connie’s curious face.

      “You—what do you mean?” he finally asked in a rush.

      She hesitated, then said, “It’s too complicated to go into now. Go to your lunch, Mr. Rankin. You can call me back later.”

      “No! Wait!” he practically shouted. “Please don’t hang up. I’m—sorry if I seemed short. I really am interested, Ms. Crockett.”

      Silence met his apology, but at least the phone line was still connected. Finally she said, “I’m sorry, too, for being so curt, Mr. Rankin. You’ve got to understand that this is difficult for me. My mother would be very upset if she found out I was doing this. And I hate going behind her back.”

      “You say her identity was lost?”

      “That’s right. Twenty-four years ago. But I don’t really want to go into the whole story over the telephone. Is there any way I could meet with you?”

      Neil’s mind was suddenly spinning. He wanted to hear this woman’s story. “Sure we could meet. If you’re willing to travel up here to New Mexico.”

      “Oh. That’s—out of the question.”

      She sounded disappointed and Neil had to admit he was feeling a bit deflated himself. As a lawyer he had the impression her story needed to be explored. And as a man he would like to see for himself what sort of woman Ms. Raine Crockett was.

      “Why? Is there some reason you can’t travel?” he asked.

      His questions were met with another long hesitation, then she said, “I can’t leave my job right now, Mr. Rankin. And I don’t have a feasible reason to give my mother for traveling to New Mexico.”

      “You’re underage?” He was worried now that his first impression was correct.

      “I’m almost twenty-four, Mr. Rankin—not underage. I just happen to love my mother and I don’t want to do anything that might…hurt her.”

      How could finding the woman’s past possibly hurt her? Neil wondered with confusion. But he didn’t voice the question to Ms. Crockett. She was obviously a cautious little thing and he didn’t want to put her off.

      “Well, surely you could come up with some excuse that wouldn’t raise eyebrows,” he suggested.

      “I can’t think of one. You see, I’ve never traveled on my own and—” She paused, then went on in a disgusted way, “Oh, this was a bad idea anyway. Let’s just forget it.”

      Neil jumped off the corner of the desk. “Ms. Crockett, why can’t we discuss this over the telephone? It would be much simpler for both of us. Why don’t I go have my lunch and I’ll call you when I get back? You won’t even have to be out the expense of another phone call,” Neil suggested.

      “Wait just a moment,” she said in a suddenly hushed tone. “Someone is coming into the room.”

      Frowning, Neil started to ask her what that had to do with anything, but she must have partially covered the receiver with her hand. He could hear the muted sound of voices in the background. The conversation went on for less than a minute and then she came back onto the line.

      “Mr. Rankin, are you still there?”

      “Still here.”

      “Great,” she said with a measure of relief, then, “I’m sorry about that. You see, my mother works in the same house as I do. That was her. She’s going out this afternoon. I think—maybe it would be better if you did call me back. At least I could give you a brief rundown.”

      Neil had the feeling he was agreeing to some sort of clandestine meeting or something worse. But he was already this far into this strange exchange. He couldn’t drop it all now. He’d be curious for the rest of his life.

      “All right, Ms. Crockett. I’ll call you back in about an hour. How’s that?”

      “Fine. I’ll give you my extension number. But if someone other than me does happen to answer, just say that you’re calling to—to talk to me about a computer I’m thinking about purchasing.”

      Now she was prompting him to make up stories, he thought incredibly. Something smelled very fishy about this whole setup.

      “I’m a lawyer, Ms. Crockett. Not a computer salesman.”

      “Please! Just do as I ask. If you can’t be covert about this, then there’s no use in us going on.”

      He looked at Connie and rolled his eyes. The secretary shook her finger at him.

      What the hell, Neil thought. At the very worst, Ms. Raine Crockett was trying to set him up, but for what or why he couldn’t guess. He would have to find out for himself.

      “All right. I can be discreet,” he promised.

      “Good. Let me give you the number.”

      Neil took down the telephone number, then added a last warning, “Ms. Crockett, before you hang up, let me tell you right now that if I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

      “I wouldn’t know how to do that,” she said, then clicked the phone dead in his ear.

      Chapter Two

      The moment Neil dropped the receiver back on its hook, Connie asked, “What was that? Or should I ask who was that?”

      “Some woman down in south Texas,” Neil said wonderingly.

      Connie was enthralled. “So? What do you think?”

      With a wry shake of his head, Neil looked at his secretary. “You know, when Nevada first came to me about finding Linc’s mother, I never thought the search would turn into me dealing with people who have more problems than this ole boy knows how to deal with.”

      Frowning, Connie said, “You’re making her sound like a mental case—or something worse.”

      Neil peeled the phone number from Connie’s notepad, folded the paper, then stowed it away in his shirt pocket.

      “How do you know she isn’t? You don’t know what was said on the other end of the line.”

      “I don’t have to know the whole conversation,” Connie argued. “The woman is obviously searching for someone she loves. You could show a little more sensitivity, you know. What’s the matter with you, anyway? If people didn’t have problems we’d never have any clients.”

      Neil had practiced law for thirteen years. Once he’d passed the bar exam and gotten his license, he’d gone to work in Farmington. Not a huge city by any means, but compared to Aztec it had been like moving from the secluded countryside to downtown Manhattan. The firm had specialized

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