to do that?” Gracie asked, and it was clear she had no ill will toward the man the sisters had recently learned was their half brother.
The total opposite of Eve, Gracie always saw the best in people. Nora’s younger sister had such a big heart, even in the midst of the huge scandal caused by the recent revelation that during one of his past affairs, Sutton had fathered a son—none other than his business rival Carson Newport.
Now that Nora had seen her father, she could turn her attention to Carson, who was her second order of business while in Chicago. Oh, Nora didn’t give two figs about Sutton’s money and whether Carson Newport had a legal claim to any of it. Eve and Grace could fight that battle. But the man was her brother. She was curious about him. And she didn’t appreciate the idea of her sisters losing out on their inheritance; it meant something to them, even if it came down to nothing more than a just reward for the years of being Sutton Winchester’s daughters.
“I wouldn’t put anything past him. There are a lot of unethical things people will gladly do for money, including doctors. And especially Newport,” Eve responded, tossing her honey-blond hair over her shoulder impatiently. It was longer than Nora remembered, but then, they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while. Not since before Sean had died.
The grief over her husband’s untimely death, never far from the surface, bubbled up; coupled with the shock at seeing the larger-than-life head of the Winchester real estate empire laid out in a stark white hospital bed, it was too much.
One, two, three... Nora kept counting until she reached ten. That was all the time she was allowed to feel sorry for herself. Sean was gone. Nora wasn’t and she had adult things to handle that wouldn’t get done if she spent all her time curled up in a ball of grief as she had after the grim-faced army liaison had brought her the news that Sean had been killed in Afghanistan.
He’d never gotten to meet their son. It was the cruelest travesty in a litany of truly terrible circumstances. But Nora still had that tiny piece of her husband alive and present in their little boy, and no gun-toting terrorist could ever take that away.
A woman with thick-framed glasses and hair swept up in a no-nonsense bun appeared at Sutton’s bedside, the tablet in her hand and white lab coat indicating she had medical business at hand. She checked a few things on her tablet and then glanced at the knot of Winchester women.
“I’m Dr. Wilde. We haven’t met.” The doctor rounded the bed to shake Nora’s hand. “You must be the nonlocal sister.”
“Nora O’Malley,” she affirmed. She’d shed the Winchester name as fast as she could after she and Sean tied the knot, and it would take an act of Congress to get her to ever change it to anything else. “So it’s true? My father is dying and there’s nothing you can do?”
Dr. Wilde bowed her head for a moment, her discreet diamond earrings sparkling in the light. “As much as I hate to admit defeat, yes. It’s true. I couldn’t operate, due to the tumor’s location, and then the cancer spread too fast to employ chemotherapy. He probably has another five months, tops. I’m sorry.”
Five months. It was way too fast. How could she find the will to forgive her father for not loving her in such a short period of time?
“Don’t be,” Nora insisted, even as the doctor’s prognosis hit her sideways. “It’s his own fault. We all told him to stop smoking but he thought that deal he’d made with the devil would keep him alive forever, I guess.”
She’d known that’s what the doctor would say. But it was so different to hear it from her mouth personally. That was partly the reason she’d forced herself to get on a plane to Chicago, though traveling with a two-year-old had been exhausting.
And now it was shockingly final. Sutton would be dead by New Year’s Day.
Sutton’s personal assistant, Valerie Smith, poked her head in the door, not one ash-blond hair out of place. “Is your father awake yet?” she asked. “I was going to bring Declan in if you wanted.”
Third order of business: to finally let her father meet his grandson.
It had been a difficult decision. The poison that Sutton managed to infuse into everybody around him couldn’t be allowed to affect her son. But his grandfather was dying. Nora had hoped that on his deathbed, her father might have an epiphany about his character, his choices, his closed heart—something that would allow all of them to make peace with Sutton’s passing and go on.
“No, he’s still asleep.” Nora couldn’t help but feel grateful for the reprieve. She’d steeled herself for this moment of reckoning but nothing magical had happened to the disappointment and hurt inside upon seeing her father in person. “But I’ll take Declan so you can have a break.”
Valerie had offered to take the cranky and bored two-year-old to the cafeteria in search of Jell-O or saltine crackers, the only two things he wanted. He refused to eat the fruit snacks and banana chips Nora had shoved in her carry-on bag—the only two things he’d wanted when she’d been packing back home. Reason was not in the wheelhouse of a toddler, so holding out the packages and telling him that was the snack he’d picked hadn’t worked.
The little boy popped into the room and Nora’s heart lurched, as it always did when she caught sight of his curly mop of red hair. He looked like Sean, of course, and it was both a blessing and a curse to have the visual reminder of what she’d lost. “Hey, Butterbean. Did you find some Jell-O?”
Nora extracted herself from her sisters with a hand to Gracie’s arm and a smile for Eve, guilt crowding into her chest that she’d opted to take the out of caring for her son instead of sitting here with her family. They’d all been by Sutton’s side from the beginning, supporting each other, showing solidarity to outsiders, but Nora just...couldn’t.
Declan nodded. “Jell-O.”
It came out sounding more like je-whoa, but Nora had never had any trouble interpreting Declan-speak. The shiny machines of the hospital room caught his attention and he weaved toward the nearest one, finger outstretched. Nora scooped him up and kissed his head. “Not so fast, Mr. Curious. Have I told you the story about the cat?”
“Cat.” Declan made a sound like one, except it was more of a yowl than a traditional meow. He was so funny and precious and her heart ached that his father wasn’t here to see how he’d grown, how fast he learned things, how he slept with one foot stuck out from the covers—just like Sean had.
As quickly as she could, Nora bustled her son out of the hospital room before anyone saw the tear that had slipped down her face. Sean had died nearly two years ago. She should be ready to move past it. Ready to date again, find someone to ease her loneliness. But she couldn’t imagine being with someone other than Sean, who had been the love of her life, the man who had thoroughly captured her heart the moment she’d met him at a football game during her junior year of college.
Seeking a quiet place to regroup, Nora spied an alcove with two chairs away from the main hospital corridor. She and Declan settled into the chairs, or she did. He sat in the opposing one for a grand total of four seconds before he squirmed to the ground and scooted around like his pants were on fire. Nora laughed.
“Problem with your diaper there, Butterbean?”
That had been Sean’s nickname for the boy the moment he’d seen the ultrasound pictures she’d held up to the camera during one of their Skype calls. She’d kept the name, even after he was born, because Declan still resembled a bean when swaddled in the brown
