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 upside down. “The bad thing is that my short-term memory was affected and I forget things.”
“Amy encouraged me to invite Charlotte to our wedding,” Matt said.
“Why did I talk you out of it?”
“You believed if Charlotte came to the wedding, she’d upset Dad. After giving it more thought, I decided you were right. Dad’s always been there for us, and I didn’t want to do anything that might hurt him.”
“I felt the same,” Travis said. “There was a time I toyed with the idea of searching for my father, but I never had the money to hire an investigator.” And why bother if the man didn’t want Travis in the first place?
“I don’t understand how Dad couldn’t have known about you all these years.” The note of suspicion in Matt’s voice didn’t escape Travis.
“Poor Dad,” Samantha said. “I’m worried about the toll the news of Charlotte’s death will take on him.”
Matt helped himself to more scotch. “He’ll need time to get used to the idea that both his wives are now dead.”
“Both wives?” Travis asked.
“Matt and I were teenagers when Dad married Duke’s mother.”
That explained Duke’s presence in the family—a stepson.
“Laura died in a car accident several years ago,” Matt said.
Travis’s siblings had lost two mothers in their lifetime. “I’m sorry.”
“The whole situation is sorry.” Samantha stared into her drink.
“Did you bring proof of Charlotte’s death?” Matt asked.
Yeah, her body’s in the bed of my pickup. Travis squelched his anger. He couldn’t find fault with his brother for wanting to protect his father. He’d have the same urge if this had happened to his mother. “I’ll mail Dominick a copy of her death certificate as soon as Charlie and I return to Houston.”
A peek at the wall clock told Travis that the three of them had been together a half hour and Dominick had yet to make an appearance. “It’s best if Charlie and I leave.” Having a civilized discussion about his mother’s death was more than Travis could handle. “I’ll leave my cell number in case Dominick changes his mind and wants to talk.”
“Dad’s going to want answers before you leave,” Matt said. “You might as well stay here tonight so the two of you can talk tomorrow.”
“The kids are planning to sleep in the bunkhouse. Charlie will love that. And this couch—” Samantha pointed to the piece of furniture she sat on “—is a sleeper sofa.”
Okay, so they had room to put him and Charlie up for the night, but the invitation wasn’t heartfelt. Travis got the impression that Matt didn’t trust him and wanted to keep an eye on him. “Charlie and I don’t want to intrude.”
“Thanksgiving is a time to be with family,” Samantha said.
Family—the reason Travis and Charlie had embarked on the trip to Oklahoma in the first place. He couldn’t return to Texas until Dominick agreed to care for Charlie should Travis suddenly drop out of the picture. And what about his daughter? Charlie hadn’t smiled much or played with any friends since her grandmother’s death. “We’ll stay.”
“IF YOU’ RE MY GRANDPA, how come you never visit me?”
Charlie’s question met Travis’s ear as he reached the bottom of the stairs. After tossing and turning on the sofa bed all night, he’d showered and changed in the second-floor bathroom and had been heading to breakfast.
“Who said I never wanted to visit you, Charlotte?”
“Why do you keep calling me Charlotte? My name’s Charlie.”
“Are you always this impudent?”
“Did you call me a swearword?”
The two needed a referee. Travis entered the kitchen. “Mornin’.” He reached out to ruffle his daughter’s hair, but she saw his hand coming and ducked. Impudent little stinker.
“Grandpa keeps calling me Grandma’s name.” His daughter thrust out her lower lip.
“Charlie prefers to be called Charlie,” Travis said.
Dominick stood at the stove, flipping pancakes—avoiding