The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (12 page)

And if she couldn’t find any evidence, she’d
just have to create some.

She went to her walk-in closet and pulled
out an old photo album. The pages had already started to yellow,
and she wondered if she should have her secretary find someone to
put the photos in one of those new photo-safe albums. But right now
she found comfort in looking at the images of her precious
daughter. Her baby girl. The daughter who should have been her
ticket to the international jet-set.

Sarah had been her pride and joy. She’d been
educated in the finest schools, and thanks to Geoffrey’s
connections, she had met and charmed Chicago’s elite. Melinda
gently touched the photos and mementos of her daughter’s life:
report cards from school, programs from piano recitals, and
certificates of appreciation from charities she’d worked with.
She’d been on her way to becoming a true lady — a member of the
American nobility.

Sarah’s position as a news
anchor on the evening news had made her a household name. At one
time she’d dated the son of a state senator, and Melinda had held
her breath, waiting for news of an engagement. But Mitch Carson had
swept Sarah off her feet and they’d married within the year.
Melinda had been furious and had told her daughter she would
neither attend the wedding nor pay for any of it. But her husband
had overridden her. The fool had actually approved of Mitch as a
son-in-law.
“Nothing wrong with a man who
works hard,”
he’d said when she’d voiced
her objections. Mitch came from a hard-working, honest family, and
as far as Geoffrey was concerned, that was more important than
having money or fame. What mattered was that he loved Sarah and
would be loyal to her.

Melinda sniffed as she skimmed over the
pages with Sarah’s engagement announcements and wedding invitation.
The only good thing to come from that marriage was Angela. She
looked so much like Sarah it made her heart ache. And Sarah had
taught her well, too. She had looked like a little lady at Sarah’s
memorial service. That father of hers, on the other hand, had
embarrassed her with his choice of apparel. He’d worn a suit, but
it hadn’t fit him well and was at least two years old. She wouldn’t
have been surprised to learn he’d borrowed it from someone. He
hadn’t bothered to shave off his beard, either. He’d looked like a
wild mountain man. There was no way the unsophisticated boor should
be allowed to raise a lovely flower like her granddaughter.

“
Melinda, where are
you?”

She put the album back in its box and
replaced it in the closet. Geoffrey had never understood her plans
for Sarah. Best to keep him in the dark. She’d make her travel
arrangements and keep them to herself.

S
ophie
dragged the
last of the grocery bags into
the kitchen and set her hands on the counter, leaning against it
until she caught her breath. Cooking for the four of them was no
problem, but gathering enough food for the entire Gardner clan was
a bigger challenge. Since their parents had retired and moved to a
small condo near Lake Michigan, Joanie had taken over hosting the
family holidays. But due to little Abbie’s arrival, it was up to
Sophie to plan and prepare most of the food for Thanksgiving. Mom
Gardner would bring desserts, and their brother and his wife
usually brought snacks, but Sophie would cook the main course and
several side dishes.

Joanie and Dave had left for the
morning with the kids to visit Dave’s parents. With everyone out of
the house, Sophie had decided it was the perfect time to get the
shopping done. Unfortunately it seemed the rest of Zutphen had had
the same idea. Shopping had taken twice as long as it should
have.

Before she left for the store,
she’d cleared out a large space in the refrigerator. She’d found
all sorts of half-eaten leftovers that she’d thrown away to make
room for the twenty-pound turkey. Now she just had to wrestle the
monstrous bird into the space she’d created.

She’d propped open the refrigerator
door and reached for the turkey when her phone rang. Sighing, she
closed the door and checked her phone. The display showed an
unfamiliar number. Was it a telemarketer? She debated a moment then
decided to answer. If it was a poll or something she didn’t want to
participate in, she could always hang up.

“
Hi,
Sophie.”
Mitch. Why does my tummy do
somersaults whenever I hear his voice?

“
Hi, Mitch.
What’s up?”
Did my voice just squeak? I
probably sound like a teenager.

“
I’m really sorry to bug you about
this, but Angie was adamant she needed you.”

“
Angie? Is she all right? What
happened?” Something in Mitch’s voice raised the hairs on her neck,
and she gripped the phone tightly.

“
She’s fine. She just wants your
help decorating her room. My mother is coming down from Muskegon on
Monday to get the house ready for our family Thanksgiving, but for
her own room, Angie would rather have your help. She says your
taste is more like hers. If you can’t, I understand. I know you’ve
got the pageant and everything…”

Is this just an excuse to get me
there? Maybe he can’t tell me what’s really wrong because he
doesn’t want to talk about it in front of Angie.
“I’d love to help. Does she want to have her room
done before Thanksgiving?”

“
Well, only if you’ve got time. I
told her you’ve got work and writing to do.”

“
I don’t have to work at the rink
until this evening. And I can do the writing any time. Is Angie
available today? I can come over and make some plans with her and
maybe we can get some shopping done this afternoon.”

“
Aw, Sophie, you’re a lifesaver.
When will you be here?”

“
I’ve got to put
groceries away and then I’ll be right over.”
Yep, something is up. He sounds way too relieved about me
coming.

They disconnected and Sophie
returned to taking care of the food. For some reason the huge
turkey didn’t seem as heavy as it had a few minutes earlier. She
made quick work of putting away the groceries. Mitch and Angie
needed her, and she had no intention of letting them
down.

~~~~

Mitch met Sophie
at the door. He pulled her into the mudroom and
leaned toward her. Sophie’s heart began to race, but then she noted
his bloodshot eyes and the disheveled state of his hair and
clothes. He spoke in a low voice, and she listened
intently.

“
Listen, Sophie, I want you to
know something before you talk to Angie. I got a call from the
school secretary yesterday. Some strange man came and tried to take
Angie out of school.”

Sophie’s hand went to her mouth and
she stifled her gasp. “Oh, no. Who would do something like
that?”

“
Some lowlife who’s working for
someone else. Fortunately the school has a policy that they won’t
release a child to anyone unless the parents have signed permission
for that person to take them. The secretary didn’t recognize the
man so she asked him for his name and said she’d have to check
Angie’s permission forms. When she went to look them up, he left.
But she saw his car pulling out of the parking lot and reported his
license number to the police. Then she called me.”

Sophie’s mind spun. If anything
happened to Angie, she didn’t think she could bear it. “Kathy
Sikkema is a sharp lady. She’s Pastor Sikkema’s wife. Thank
goodness she prevented him from taking her! Have they found the man
yet?”

“
They have, since Kathy got a good
look at the car and got the license number. But he hasn’t said
anything yet about why he tried to take her or who he’s working
for. Whoever paid him might try again. I’m going to keep a close
eye on her until we find out. I’d like to keep her home from
school, but that would only scare her. The principal has assigned
an extra teacher’s aide to her classroom and she and the teacher
will keep a close eye on her at all times.”

“
Maybe it would be better if I
don’t take her shopping,” Sophie suggested.

“
I’d feel better if you both
stayed here, but she’s getting pretty antsy. I haven’t let her out
of my sight since yesterday. I even had a campout with her in my
office last night just so I’d have an excuse to keep her with me
all night.” He sighed. “I don’t want Angie to know what’s going on,
but I think she’s starting to suspect something’s wrong. If you go
anywhere, could you stick to the local shops instead of going to
the mall?”

Not for the first time, Sophie’s
heart warmed at Mitch’s obvious love for his daughter. “Of course.
And I can text you every once in awhile to let you know where we
are and that everything’s okay.”

“
Thanks. And maybe—”

“
Miss Sophie! I’m so glad you can
help me. Daddy said you might be too busy, but I knew you’d come.
Look what I found.” Angie stood at the entrance of the mudroom.
Sophie and Mitch glanced at each other, wondering how much the girl
had heard, but her sunny chatter continued as she turned and raced
to her room. Sophie removed her boots and followed the unusually
animated little girl. She remembered being that excited about
company when she was younger.

“
Daddy had all these pictures in a
box, and he said I could have them. I thought you could help me
hang them up. Do you think they’ll look nice on my
walls?”

Sophie looked at the piles of photos fanned out on
the white bedspread. There were several pictures of Angie with her
father, and some of Angie with an older couple she assumed to be
her grandparents. They were in a canoe, Grandma in the front,
Grandpa in the back, and Angie, wearing a bright orange life vest.
The rugged man in the picture reminded her of Mitch.

Angie confirmed her suspicions.
“That’s me with Grandma and Grandpa Carson. They took me camping
last summer.” She gestured to the next pile, which had formal
studio portraits. In one, Angie sat in a tailored dress with a
well-dressed couple. “This is me with Grandma and Grandpa — I mean
Nana and Poppy.” A third pile contained publicity shots of Sarah
Lester, the television personality. Why would Angie have so many
pictures of a television news anchor?

The answer hit her like a punch to
the gut.
Sarah Lester was Angie’s
mother.

The resemblance was there, now that
she thought about it. Sarah definitely resembled the woman in the
studio portrait. And Angie had the same blonde hair and blue eyes
shining with intelligence.
Mitch was
married to a television news anchor. What on earth would he see in
a plain country girl like me? Good thing I’ve got plans to
leave.
But somehow, those plans didn’t seem
so exciting right now.

“
These are great pictures,
sweetie. We should get some frames for them so we can hang them on
your walls.”

“
Can we get white frames so they
match my room?”

“
Sure, we can do that. What else
would you like? Sophie looked around the girl’s room and spotted
her dolls sitting on the floor in a neat row against the wall.
“Maybe we could get a special shelf for some of your dolls? And a
little rocking chair?” When Angie nodded in agreement she pulled
her notebook out of her pocket and started scribbling down their
ideas.

She didn’t notice the voices in the
next room until one rose to a screech.

“
You can’t be serious about
raising my granddaughter in this — this hovel!”

Sophie looked up to see Angie’s
excitement had disappeared, replaced by a look of
wariness.

“
Nana’s here. And she’s mad at
Daddy again.”

Sophie wasn’t sure what to do.
Angie certainly didn’t sound happy at the prospect of seeing the
person. Should she leave? Or should she and Angie hide in the
bedroom and hope the woman went away?

“
Nana? Is that your grandma?”
Angie nodded. Not one ounce of pleasure lit the girl’s face. “Were
you expecting her to come?”

“
I don’t think so. Daddy woulda
told me. And I woulda dressed up, ‘cause Nana doesn’t like me to
wear jeans. She says girls should always dress like
girls.”

Mitch’s voice responded at a much
lower volume. She had to give him credit — if someone had come into
her house unexpectedly and begun screaming insults, she probably
wouldn’t have remained so calm.

“
Do you want to change now? I’ll
help you.”

“
I guess so.” Angie tightened her
lips and slid off the bed. She chose a navy wool dress with a white
collar that reminded Sophie of a school uniform. Together, they got
Angie into the dress and completed the outfit with tights and
patent leather shoes. Sophie arranged Angie’s hair in a French
plait with a pretty bow she’d found in a drawer. The little girl
took a deep breath before stepping out into the kitchen. Sophie
followed, keeping her hand on Angie’s shoulder in a show of
support.

The two people in the kitchen were
silent, but the animosity between them burned like a furnace.
Sophie tightened her hold on Angie’s shoulder. The woman Sophie had
seen in the studio portrait in Angie’s room stood near the back
door, dressed and coiffed as if she was about to head to a board
meeting. Mitch leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms
crossed. Whatever their argument had been about, neither opponent
looked ready to give an inch.