idea that you just might be Anna Benedict?”
Rose fought off a shudder that had nothing to do with the fact that her clothes were still slightly damp. She wanted to shake her head, insist that she was Rose Delancey, but controlled the impulse. Slowly she lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
“I’ll consider it.” She paused. “Perhaps it would help if you’d tell me a little about Ann—me. So far all I know is that I have a mother named Elise, a father named Robert and an aunt named Grace. Elise mentioned someone named Chas. Who is he?”
“Your older brother,” Logan replied.
Rose frowned. “I thought you were my older brother.”
“No, I’m not,” Logan replied. “Not really.”
Logan watched Anna’s eyebrows twist into a puzzled frown, which told him just how confusing this might sound—especially to an already confused mind.
“My parents, Thomas and Brenda Maguire, worked for your grandfather,” he explained. “I was ten when they died, and I didn’t have any other family. Your father managed to get himself appointed my legal guardian and has always treated me like a surrogate son.”
Logan saw an expression of sympathy darken Anna’s eyes. His chest tightened around the pain he’d locked away so long ago, and he frowned.
There was something deeply empathetic in that look of Anna’s, almost as if she knew just how that loss had affected him. But she couldn’t. By the time Anna learned about the accident that had killed his parents, the young girl had long been accustomed to thinking of him as her “bigger brother,” which had been her way of distinguishing him from Chas, two years his junior.
Receiving sympathy from Anna now was something entirely new to him, and rather than try to deal with the uncomfortable emotions she evoked, he did what he did best—focused on the business at hand.
“Come with me,” he said. “And let me introduce you to the family.”
Logan noticed Anna offered no resistance when he took her hand to pull her to her feet, then lead her across the room to stand in front of an oak rolltop desk. The wall above was filled with framed photos. He pointed to a five-by-seven on the far right.
“There’s Elise, holding you on the day you came home,” he said. “Other than her hairstyle, you can see that her looks have changed little. And I think you can recognize Robert, despite the fact that his hair was nearly black back then. Just like yours is now. And the shorter blond boy on the left? That’s your brother, Chas.”
Logan watched Anna scrutinize each figure until a sudden frown formed and she abruptly turned to him. “And the other blond boy. Is…is that you?”
Her eyes were wide. Thinking he saw a hint of recognition in them, he nodded. “Yes. Look familiar?”
An expression very close to fear darkened her eyes before she blinked and shrugged. “Maybe…a little. I don’t know.”
“Well, maybe looking at some of these other photographs will stimulate your memory.”
Logan directed her attention to the images that Elise had framed in silver and placed on the wall of her daughter’s room. He started with a large oval sepia-toned photograph at the top.
“That’s your great-great-great grandfather, Lucas Benedict. He established the family fortune back in the 1870s when he struck a vein of silver in Virginia City, Nevada. No one can find a picture of his wife, but the men in the two pictures on either side are his sons, Jonah and Jerald. Beneath those we have Jerald’s sons, Raymond and William, along with William’s wife, your grandmother, Anna. Some think you bear a close resemblance to her.”
He watched as Anna studied this last photo. “I don’t agree.”
Logan shrugged. “Well, you do both have curly hair—and there’s a widow’s peak beneath those new bangs of yours. The picture is rather faded, so it’s hard to make out any further resemblance. Anyway, the next set of pictures are of William and Anna’s two sons and their wives. That’s Victor and Grace on the left. The other couple is your grandfather, Charles, and your grandmother, Louise. You wouldn’t remember your grandmother, because she died before your first birthday.”
“And this picture on the top of the desk?” he heard her ask softly.
Logan frowned at the photo of two dark-haired men sitting at a piano. “That’s a shot of your father,” he said slowly, “with his brother, your uncle Joe. You wouldn’t remember Joe, either. He died…shortly before you were born.”
Logan swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat and blinked back the sudden memories of the day that Joseph Benedict died, and the two people who had perished with him.
“Oh, Anna! You’re up.”
Elise Benedict’s voice echoed from the doorway. Logan turned as the woman stepped into the room, followed by her husband and the doctor.
“How is our patient?” Dr. Alcott asked as all three stopped in front of Anna and Logan.
When Anna said nothing, Logan replied, “She’s fine, physically. At least, she hasn’t complained of any major aches or pains.”
“And her mind?”
Logan turned to Elise. “I think I’ve convinced her that she is Anna Benedict. She appears to recognize some things, but her memory is far from clear.”
“Oh, dear.” Elise sighed, then turned to the doctor. “Well then. Perhaps we should still consider sending her—”
“No!”
Logan glanced at Anna, who had broken into her mother’s suggestion just moments before Logan could reject what was undoubtedly going to be another suggestion that Anna be placed in the hospital. He turned to Anna’s father.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Robert. Or particularly wise right now. I’m sure the facility that Alcott recommended is discreet, but this sort of thing has a way of leaking out. Not that I think there’s any shame in a person checking in for mental help, but you know how it could look.”
Robert nodded.
“Besides,” Logan went on, “Anna might benefit by being around familiar things and people. Don’t you agree Dr. Alcott?”
The man’s dark eyes narrowed a moment behind his glasses before he nodded. “Possibly. Theoretically, being exposed to familiar items speeds recovery in persons suffering from amnesia.”
Logan looked to Elise, half expecting her to show some kind of displeasure at having her plans denied. Instead the woman was treating her daughter to a speculative gaze.
“Well, perhaps that is best. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain Anna’s absence at the campaign dinner tonight. And many of our longtime friends and associates will be there. Maybe seeing one of them in a relaxed atmosphere will prompt Anna’s memory. What do you think, Dr. Alcott?”
Logan gave his head a small shake. Only Elise Benedict would consider a campaign dinner and dance a “relaxed” atmosphere. Anna certainly would not. She hated spending time in the public eye.
Before he could bring this up, however, the doctor replied, “Excellent idea.”
This brought a wide smile to Elise’s lips. She turned to Logan. “You’ll be there, of course.”
“Actually,” he said, “I got very little sleep during the past three days, so I’d planned to catch up on it after I filed the paperwork from my trip to France and explained the details of your father’s will.”
Only the slightest tightening of the woman’s jaw gave any hint of Elise’s feelings about the now-deceased man who had abandoned his wife and daughter so many years ago. A second later she was smiling again.
“Oh, there will be plenty of time to discuss dreary financial matters