course. He’d stuck them in a ball of funky blue yarn that had reminded him of a poodle. One that had come unraveled. Then, so she couldn’t accuse him of favoring the masculine gender, he’d bought one in raspberry-pink, too.
He knocked at the door and it opened quickly to reveal a pert little face. Ben and Leah Cavanaugh’s daughter, Olivia. Ben and Rachel’s husband, Eli, were brothers so that made the Cavanaughs family as far as Andrew was concerned.
“Is there room for one more?” he whispered.
Olivia recognized him immediately and giggled, opening the door. “We brought lasagna for Aunt Rachel.”
“Looks like I’m right on time, then.”
“Come on.” Without an ounce of shyness, Olivia grabbed his hand and towed him into the foyer. “They’re in the living room.”
The conversation stalled when Andrew appeared in the doorway. Rachel was stretched out on the leather sofa and Eli sat at her feet. Or more likely, Andrew thought, he was sitting on them so she couldn’t get up. Ben stood in front of the fireplace, his infant son, Joseph, cradled in his arms. He must have come over straight from work because he still wore the denim shirt with the logo for Cavanaugh Carpentry embroidered on the pocket. Judging from the sounds coming from the kitchen, Andrew guessed Ben’s wife, Leah, was the one putting dinner together.
Rachel spied the bag. “Is there ice cream in there?”
“Enough to last a day or two. How are you doing?” He wandered close enough to see the fine lines etched at the corners of her eyes.
Rachel pursed her lips. “I’ve been lying on this sofa for six hours, twelve minutes and…” She glanced at her diamond wristwatch. “Fourteen seconds. What does that tell you?”
“Mmm. That you’re going crazy?”
“And bringing Eli along for the ride.” Rachel cast an apologetic glance at her husband.
“I told you I’d follow you anywhere.” He grinned.
The look that passed between them momentarily blocked out everyone else in the room. Andrew felt a jab of envy. He could pick up the phone and have a dinner date within the hour. He could spend an evening laughing with a woman and making casual conversation, but it never progressed beyond that. He was thirty-four years old and he’d never dated a woman he wanted to share his heart—and his life—with. He was beginning to think she didn’t exist.
“Dinner is served.” Leah Cavanaugh swept into the room like a tawny-haired sunbeam, holding a beautifully carved tray crowded with delicate china and garnished with a single red rose.
Andrew watched her set it down on the coffee table next to Rachel and his thoughts drifted back to Miranda. For the second or third…or hundredth…time that day.
He had enough secrets of his own to be able to recognize them in someone else’s eyes. It made him curious. What was her story? Why was she cautious around men?
Maybe she isn’t cautious around men. Maybe she’s just cautious around you….
He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought because Leah took command of the room. Rachel had insisted everyone eat with her instead of in the formal dining room so, in no time, Leah had everyone sitting down, enjoying the meal she’d prepared.
The doorbell rang and Olivia, the unofficial greeter, danced away to answer it. She returned, arm-in-arm, with Jonah Fraser, one of Ben’s employees. The little girl carefully matched her steps to Jonah’s, who still walked with a slight limp due to an injury during a tour of duty in Iraq.
“Jonah?” Ben strode forward and met him halfway. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you here, Ben, but—” Jonah looked uncomfortable with the attention his unexpected visit was receiving. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Did you run into problems at the Harcourt mansion today?” Ben asked, a frown of concern creasing in forehead.
“You could say that.” Jonah exhaled slowly. It was the only sound in the room because everyone had stopped eating.
“You two can use the library,” Rachel offered, her worried gaze moving between the two men.
Leah took Ben’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile. He took a step toward Jonah and then paused.
“Jonah, if this has something to do with you, we’ll go into the library. If it has something to do with me, you might as well just spill it or I’ll get stuck repeating it again. And again. And again.”
His attempt at humor fell flat. Everyone could see the tension in Jonah’s broad shoulders. He gave Ben a curt nod. “All right. I ripped out a wall at the mansion while I was working in Samantha Harcourt’s suite of rooms this afternoon and I found a folder filled with…documents.”
Ben’s jaw tightened. “What kind of documents?”
“From Tiny Blessings. There’s a stack of them at least an inch thick. And…I saw your name.”
Ben flinched as if the words had physically struck him. “Documents? From Tiny Blessings? Are you telling me you may have found copies of my adoption records?”
“I’m not sure.” Jonah’s fists clenched at his sides, the only visible sign of his frustration. “I think they might be your original adoption records, Ben.”
Leah sucked in a breath and Ben looked dazed.
“I wanted to tell you first because I know what this could mean. There are a lot of records there. Who knows which ones are legit and which ones are fakes? Either way, they’re going to blow another hole in Ross and Kelly’s life—and the Harcourts’. Not to mention other families who adopted through the agency and assumed everything was on the up and up. Or—” Jonah hesitated “—people who paid Harcourt to cover their tracks.”
Andrew saw the truth of his words begin to sink in on everyone’s faces. He’d been living in Rhode Island when the first batch of falsified adoption records had been discovered a few years back. Rachel had confided in him at the time, not only because the Noble Foundation supported Tiny Blessings but because Kelly Young Van Zandt, the director, was one of Rachel’s friends.
“Do you… Did you…notice anything else on the papers? The ones that had my name on them?” Ben asked.
Jonah understood the significance of the question and he nodded. “Your mother… Her name was there.”
Leah closed her eyes and Ben instinctively drew her and Olivia into the shelter of his arms.
“It’s Millicent. Millicent Cunningham.”
“Cunningham.” Ben repeated the name, trying to keep his emotions under control.
“What do you want me to do?” Jonah asked simply.
Ben was silent. It was Leah who stepped into the gap.
“First we’re going to pray,” she said. “And then we’re going to call Ross.”
Chapter Four
“Pleeease, Miranda. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t have plans on a Friday night.” Darcy clasped her hands together and probably would have dropped to her knees if she hadn’t been wearing her favorite pair of white jeans.
She’d trapped Miranda in the small break room off the kitchen when she’d stopped at the diner to pick up her paycheck.
Miranda wasn’t sure what amused her more—the truth in the desperate plea or that Darcy could draw out a simple, one-syllable word like please for ten excruciating seconds.
“Just for the record, I do have a date. With a very handsome young man. We’re going to play Chutes and Ladders, drink root beer and eat popcorn.”
“Sounds boring… Oh, you’re