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“Carson, please!” she called.
He kept walking, the cool February air refreshing against the hot anger spiraling inside him. He’d parked his car on a side street, and when he reached it, he got in and sped off toward Oak Creek.
When he opened the front door of his house, he could smell apple pie in the air. Danny’s sitter had made two pies with her little helper, and he was now napping. He let the sitter know he would be doing some research, then tiptoed into Danny’s room. He watched his son’s chest rise and fall, his own tense shoulders relaxing. Watching his son sleep never failed to relax him.
In his office, he sat down on the brown leather couch and pulled out his cell phone to call his dad and tell him this Sarah person was just Olivia’s aunt and the fortune-teller’s sister. And what a nice parting gift to hook up the family with a wealthy widower.
Cheap shot, Ford, he chastised himself.
He punched in his dad’s cell number.
“Edmund Ford speaking.”
“Dad, I just found out this supposed second great love of yours is the fortune-teller’s sister. Clearly, you’ve been set up.”
“Her sister?” Edmund said.
“Olivia told me the person Madam Miranda described sounds a lot like her estranged aunt. Down to the name, the job, the eye color and the tattoo.”
Silence. His father was a smart man. Clearly he now knew this was a ruse and he probably felt exactly like Carson had on the street—sucker punched upside the head and in the gut.
“That’s great!” Edmund said. “That means we have a last name! Maybe even a Social Security number to help track her down. And a physical description beyond eye color. This is great news.”
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