His Wife. Muriel JensenЧитать онлайн книгу.
China went on, pulling a pair of light blue corduroy rompers out of the box, “there’re these.” She exposed the label sewn into the back of them. It was the same label Abbott Mills’s children’s wear division used today. Abbott Mills Baby, with a lamb curled atop the double L. In the logo for the company’s other products, a sheep stood on the double L.
“We sold millions of those,” Campbell challenged. “Anybody could…”
But Sawyer had a nebulous memory of a favorite pair of rompers the nanny always put on Abby because of their durability and the baby’s high-speed crawl. The knees were reinforced with star-shaped patches.
China held the garment up by the straps, the patches worn, two corners of one star unraveled.
Sawyer’s heart slammed against his aching ribs.
Killian took the rompers from her and studied them, frowning with concentration.
“I remember them,” Sawyer said softly.
Killian nodded. “I think I do, too.” He ran a hand over the knee patches. “She used to crawl everywhere,” he said, lost in his thoughts. “None of our stuff was safe from her.” He passed the garment to Sawyer.
“I repeat,” Campbell said firmly, “that Abbott Mills made thousands of grosses of those.”
“I’ll bet,” China said, lifting something else out of the box, “that there aren’t thousands of grosses of these.” She drew out a rag doll wearing a miniature pair of the same rompers, with the same star patches. The doll had obviously been specially made, with style and skill. It had painted eyes, cheeks and lips, and elegantly embroidered eyelashes. Brown yarn hair was woven into long braids.
“I think…Chloe made this,” Killian whispered. “Abby carried it with her all the time.”
Campbell crossed the room to take the doll from him. “How can you be so certain this is the same doll? It was twenty-five years ago.”
“I’m not certain,” Killian said. He looked startled, even a little shaken. “But I think there’s enough here that bears investigating.”
“Okay,” Campbell said. “All we need for proof is a DNA test.”
Killian put a hand to his forehead. “Yeah, but Mom’s worried about Tante Bijou at the moment, and I hate to further upset her with the news that a woman who might be her daughter has come to Shepherd’s Knoll. She won’t want to leave Tante Bijou, but she’ll be frantic—Her aunt raised her,” he explained to China, “and she’s in very poor health. Mom’s very worried about her.”
“Then don’t tell her,” China said in a reasonable tone, packing up her box again. “Wait until she comes home. The last thing I want to do is cause her pain. I’ll leave you my address and phone number in L.A.—”
“No, wait.” Killian stood, looking pensive. He went to the counter to pour coffee. “Let’s think this through.”
“Couldn’t we just do the test with me?” Campbell asked. “If she is my full sibling—”
“No.” Sawyer didn’t like that idea. “Mom should be here before we do anything. She was here when Abby was lost, and she should be in on finding her. If she is Abby.”
“And if she isn’t?” Campbell demanded impatiently. “Mom gets to grieve all over again? Let’s just do it. Then we’ll know and we’ll spare Mom the pain if she’s lying.”
“I’m not lying!” China denied with a glower at Campbell. Then her expression softened as she looked to Killian and Sawyer. “I may be wrong about who I am, but I’m not lying. I’m sorry this is hard on all of you. I don’t mean it to be. I just don’t know how else to learn the truth.” She handed Killian a business card and stood.
Taught Chloe’s European manners very young, all the brothers stood with her.
“You should stay,” Killian said. “We happen to have a houseful at the moment, but they’ll all be gone tomorrow. We’ll find someplace to put you tonight.”
“Killian!” Campbell said in complete exasperation. “What are you talking about? You don’t know any—”
“It’ll be good for her to stay,” Killian repeated. “You’ll get to know each other.”
“I don’t have time to get to know anybody. I have too much to do already.”
“I’d be happy to earn my keep,” China put in quietly.
“There you go, Cam!” Killian was warming to the whole idea. “You’re always telling me that you could use staff to manage the estate. China can help you while she’s here.”
“But—”
“I think it’s a great idea, too,” Sawyer put in.
Campbell groaned, predictably exasperated.
“Are you able to stay?” Killian asked her. He glanced at her business card, then up at her. “You own a shopping service in L.A.?”
“Yes.” Her quiet manner evaporated in her growing excitement. “I have four great employees. I told them I’d be away a couple of weeks.”
Campbell, accustomed to being outvoted on most things since childhood, twirled his index finger in a mockery of delight. “She’s good at shopping. That’ll help me a lot.”
“Do you want to stay?” Sawyer asked her.
She looked right into Campbell’s face and answered sweetly, “I’d love to stay. And shopping is an art, smarty. One should be willing to pay a fair price, but never too much.”
That, Sawyer thought, sounded a lot like his father.
Killian grinned at him. “That’s settled. They’ll be working together until Mom comes home. Did I mention Cordie and I are leaving for Italy on our second honeymoon day after tomorrow? You’re in charge.”
Sawyer closed his eyes, his head now hurting as well as his ribs. If he was going to have to assume Killian’s role as an arbitrator while he was gone, it was a good thing he was used to flirting with danger.
Chapter One
Anchovies, pepper jack cheese, wheat crackers, beef jerky, marinated vegetables, oranges and taco-flavored corn chips. Sawyer Abbott checked the list in his hand against the contents of his cart and decided, as he crossed off the last item, that shopping wasn’t so hard. Kezia Chambers, the Abbott family’s housekeeper at Shepherd’s Knoll, had laughed when he’d told her he was headed for the Losthampton Market.
“You’re going to meet girls, aren’t you?” She was African-American and she and her husband, Daniel, the Abbotts’ chauffeur, had been part of the family for as long as Sawyer could remember. Over the years, she’d alternately scolded him and comforted him and his brother Killian, depending upon the situation. When their mother had left he was three and Killian was five, and she’d helped them accept their stepmother, Chloe, and the two babies she and their father had eventually added to their household. And when their little sister, Abigail, was taken at fourteen months of age, Kezia had been a brick.
“No, I’m not.” He’d pretended to be insulted. “As if I had to arrange to meet single women. They seem to find me.”
She’d rolled her eyes as she stirred the dark contents of a bowl with a wooden spoon. “You’re so spoiled. You were born with those fair good looks and that outrageous charm and you think they’ll never fail you, but someday you’re going to meet someone who’ll resist you. Then what will you do?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I won’t want anyone who doesn’t want me. Now—do you need anything from the market? I just came to ask you as a courtesy. Don’t try to harass me the way you harass