Ava made the introductions. “Sorry for dropping in unannounced.”
“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled. Come in, come in.” Julie backed toward the sitting area just off the foyer. When they were settled in the cozy den with Ava and Caden on the couch and Julie in the wingback chair near the fireplace, the woman leaned forward. “I noticed you two holding hands.” She batted her eyes. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”
Ava cleared her throat. “Nothing other than we’re friends . . . um . . . good friends.” The point had been made. Holding hands with Caden had done the job of avoiding an explanation for his presence.
“Uh-huh. Well, that’s wonderful, my dear.”
“I hope we’re not interrupting your bridge game.”
“No, not today. Loretta had back surgery last week and Sonya has a new grandbaby she’s visiting. So I’m free this afternoon.” Her smile faded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your father. I know it’s been eight months, but it seems like a lifetime.”
“Thank you. And again, thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful.” Exactly what she’d stated in her thank-you note.
“How’s your mother doing? John gives me a report every so often, but I haven’t had an update lately.”
“She’s about the same. The doctors have given her three to four more months—or she could go at any point.”
“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry.”
“I am too.”
Julie tilted her head. “So, what brings you here?”
“Well, of course, I wanted to see you, but I also had some questions about my father I was hoping you could answer.”
A microexpression of wariness flickered across her face before she clasped her hands between her knees and flashed a brilliant smile. “Of course. What would you like to know?”
“Well, I know you, John, and my father went to the same high school. I was just wondering if you could tell me some stories about him. Like the time he played the practical joke on you at the homecoming dance.”
The woman’s face went blank and her jaw dropped a fraction. “How did you know about that? Did Paul or John tell you?”
“No. I actually heard the three of you joking about it when I was around eighteen or nineteen years old. I asked my father about it, but he never gave me a straight answer. I was really disappointed too. It sounded like a great story and I’ve wondered about it ever since.”
“I see. Well . . .” She shrugged. “It was a silly thing. I’ve always hated surprises. Truly.” She paused. “Not your visit, of course, but at the dance, they had a miniature float as a decoration. Your father hid confetti inside it, and when I was crowned homecoming queen, he had it rigged to explode when he pressed some kind of button. It scared me to pieces. Everyone had a good laugh, and eventually, I forgave him.”
And there was her confirmation that they’d been in high school together. It had been an educated guess based on the conversation, but . . . Ava forced a laugh. “That definitely sounds like my dad.” She sighed. “Julie, I came here for another reason too.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve discovered some things that point to the fact that Paul Jackson wasn’t my father’s real name. I need to know—what name did he go by in high school?”
Julie’s expression tightened and she had that deer-in-the-headlights look. “I . . . uh . . . I don’t really remember. You’re right, he went by another name, but I’ve just called him Paul Jackson for so many years that . . . I can’t think of what he called himself in high school.” A nervous titter escaped her, and she threaded her fingers together. Then her features smoothed, her eyes blanking.
“I see,” Ava said. “Of course. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I suppose if he’d wanted me to know, he would have told me. On that note—” Ava stood. “It was a long trip and I need the ladies’ room.”
“Of course,” Julie said, her countenance lightening, relief tingeing her words. “You know where it is.”
“Thanks.”
As Ava left the room, she heard Julie ask Caden how long he’d known Ava. She hurried down the hallway and found John’s study, slipped inside, and went to the wall-sized bookcase. “I know they’re here,” she muttered. “I’ve seen them a dozen times.” She ran her fingers over the books, looking for a specific one.
There. John’s high school yearbook. McLinder High School. Her father had lied about that too, obviously. Quickly, she flipped to the senior year section and found the page that should have her father’s picture there. No Paul Jackson. “Surprise, surprise.” She went back to the beginning of the senior pictures and studied each one. She found John Sparks easily enough. And Julie Tate. She flipped the page and scanned. Flip, scan, flip, scan. Until she gasped. “Seriously?”
Someone had cut out the picture of one of the seniors and blackened the name with a sharpie. Unbelievable. But she knew the last name would start with a W. It could be her father, or it could be someone John simply hated, so he’d removed the person from the book. But she didn’t think so.
Ava finished looking at the rest of the pictures before she let her hand hover over the page that had the small square a third of the way down.
Footsteps in the hallway sent darts of fear through her. If Julie caught her in the study with the book . . .
With no time to snap a picture of the page, she ripped it out and shoved the paper into her pocket. Once she had the album back in its spot on the shelf, she hurried toward the door.
The footfalls came closer.
“Ava?”
Ava grabbed one of the pictures from the mantel next to her head, trying her best to get her heart rate under control.
“Ava? Are you all right?” Julie’s voice came from just outside the door.
She forced a smile and peered out. “In here, Julie.”
Her friend stepped inside, a frown creasing her brow. “What are you doing in John’s office?”
Ava waved the picture at her. “I’m sorry. I got sidetracked. I remember being in here as a kid and wanted to see if it was the same.” She smiled, hoping it was normal and not fake. “It is. I was just walking down memory lane, looking at all of the photos in here of your family.” She pointed. “I don’t remember these, though. You’ve added a few new ones.”
“Oh.” Julie dropped her gaze.
Ava bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here, I guess. I just couldn’t help thinking that you and he have all these pictures of your loved ones and I have . . . very few. Of Dad, anyway. I guess I was feeling a bit jealous. I’m sorry.”
Julie’s expression turned tender, and being the compassionate woman she was, she pulled Ava into a hug. Needles of regret stabbed at Ava’s conscience, but . . . her words weren’t a total lie.
When Julie released her, she sighed. “Oh, my dear, no need to feel jealous. Take a close look around. Do you see John or me in any of those pictures?”
Now that she mentioned it . . . “No.”
“That’s because they’re fake. I don’t know any of the people in those pictures, but I couldn’t stand not having photos. So . . . I’ve created a little fantasy world. I’ve put together the family I’ll never have.” She stroked Ava’s cheek with such love that Ava’s throat closed. “I suppose that’s another reason I’ve cherished having you in my life. You’re the daughter I never had.”