An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach #1)(77)

“Daisy, I think it’s time to start getting you ready for bed,” Natalie announced as soon as she’d finished eating.

“I didn’t have ice cream. Nana said I could have ice cream if I ate my beans.” Daisy pointed to the empty spot on her plate, where several green beans had been lined up earlier.

“Well, Nana doesn’t get to decide,” Natalie said sharply. “Mom, I’d appreciate it if you left it to me to decide what she can eat and when.”

Too angry and hurt to speak, Maggie nodded without looking at her daughter and bit back her words. She and Natalie were going to have this out tonight, but not in front of Daisy.

Natalie helped a pouting Daisy from her chair.

“But Nana said—”

“Nana isn’t Mommy,” Natalie snapped.

“Mommy, you talked mean to me and to Nana. You should say you’re sorry.” Daisy’s bottom lip quivered.

“I’m sorry. Now let’s go upstairs and get your bath.” Natalie took Daisy’s hand and led her through the back door to the kitchen.

Maggie turned to say something to Grace, but Grace was following Natalie into the house.

“Shame on me for having raised such brats,” Maggie grumbled. “And shame on me for not realizing it until now.”

Maggie cleared the table, stacked the dishwasher, washed the pots and pans, and cleaned off the grill. She tried to get her emotions under control, but the anger inside her burned like hot coals, and the hurt had pierced her heart. She’d devoted so much of her life to raising her daughters, and now they’d both seemingly turned against her without explanation.

Well, she mused as she polished off the last bit of wine in the bottle, for better or for worse, that’s probably going to change within the hour.

She took her wine outside onto the deck, where she watched the sun drop into the harbor, determined not to give in to the feeling of dread that had engulfed her. She’d just closed her eyes and tried to think soothing thoughts when Natalie opened the door and said briskly, “Mom, would you come in here, please?”

As if facing her executioner, Maggie rose and went into the kitchen.

“Sword or ax?” She glanced from one daughter to the other.

“Funny, Mom.” Natalie gestured to the barstools.

“Mom, won’t you join us?” Maggie quipped sarcastically in her most saccharine voice. “Why, of course. I always enjoy spending time with my loving daughters.”

Natalie sighed heavily. “You’re not funny, and you’re not making this easier. Mom, do you know someone named Polly Wakefield?”

“Sure. She’s my mom’s aunt,” Maggie said.

“How ’bout Claire Lloyd?” Natalie tossed out the name.

“She’s my mom’s cousin. My second cousin, I guess.” Maggie grew more confused by the second. “But what do either of them have to do with anything?”

Natalie went to her bag and pulled out several sheets of paper. “These are emails I received over the past few months. I think you should read them.”

Mystified, Maggie grabbed her glasses from the counter, where she’d left them, and slid them on as she took a seat. Natalie handed her the papers, and Maggie began to read.

Time stood still as she attempted to understand what she was reading. She read the first printed page with her mouth open, one hand on her heart as if trying to keep it from leaving her chest.

My name is Joe Miller and I think I’m your half brother. Actually, according to the DNA results, I’m pretty positive I am.

“Oh. Oh . . . oh . . . ,” Maggie whispered, too stunned to speak beyond that one simple word.

Tears fell from her eyes, rolling down her face in a steady stream to leave their mark on the pristine sheets of paper, a mixture of pain and joy at odds within her.

Caught completely off guard, she was oblivious to the presence of her daughters and the fact that their discovery of her deepest secret had driven a wedge between them. For a moment, knowing her son—her son!—was reaching out was more than she could process.

“Joe. His name is Joe,” she whispered.

Maggie’d never given him a name. In her heart, he’d always simply been my baby boy. She’d believed naming him would be the prerogative of someone else, but seeing his name in print, saying it aloud . . . somehow it sounded right to her. Joe. Joseph.

“Mom? Oh my God, Mom. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Apparently realizing the anguish her actions had caused, Natalie reached for the emails to take them back. “I didn’t think. I didn’t know. I didn’t . . .”

Maggie held the pages she’d read in one shaking hand, out of Natalie’s reach. Then, sobbing, she read through to the last page.

“Mom, please . . . I’m so sorry.” Natalie began to cry. Grace observed both her mother and her sister as if watching a play.

I have been in contact with my father. I spoke with him over the weekend. We will be getting together sometime soon, and I am beyond happy.

Maggie felt she’d been struck by lightning.

“What?” she yelled, the tears forgotten. “He . . . what? He knows? Son of a bitch.”

Natalie and Grace both jumped, obviously jarred by their mother’s curse.

“Who knows what?” Natalie dabbed at her face with a tissue.