Brynn reached for the carton. “Let me help.”
Handing it to her, Julia picked up a cooler. “Okay. This needs to go in the fridge.”
They opened the box and cooler in the kitchen. The goodies included bottles of Brynn’s favorite wine, Godiva chocolates, Häagen-Dazs ice cream and an assortment of treats from the most exclusive deli in San Antonio.
“I nearly forgot the best thing!”
Brynn groaned. “You don’t think we can possibly eat more than this?”
Julia unearthed one more package and held it up like a trophy. “Shipley’s doughnuts!”
“The world’s best,” Brynn agreed, lifting the lid to eye the contents almost reverently. “We’ll have to walk twenty miles to burn these off.”
“I’m game.”
Brynn filched a chocolate-filled doughnut. “Me, too.”
“I brought milk, but we can have coffee if you want.”
Looking at the empty pot, Brynn frowned. “I meant to make some, but—”
“You got caught up in your work. Good.” Julia’s smile was knowing and kind. “It’s been too long since you’ve been able to do that.”
After she’d lost her family, potting had been both a blessing and a curse. At times Brynn couldn’t get past mixing fresh clay. Inspiration seemed beyond her. Instead it was as though she fought a fog that distorted her artistic vision. Yet at other times, pottery was the only thing that took her out of the endless cycle of self-blame and pain. When she awoke each day, she never knew whether she’d be able to work or not.
Julia measured out the coffee. “While this brews, I’ll bring in the other coolers. I thought the freezer might need filling.”
In order to keep a low profile, Brynn rarely ventured into the small nearby town of Walburg. Instead, the huge walk-in freezer was well stocked. The butler’s pantry and commercial freezer had been installed by Julia’s grandfather, whose hunting trips often ran into weeks or months. And Julia’s father had continued the tradition. Although some of the equipment had been updated, including the addition of a commercial refrigerator, they served the same purpose. A person could remain at the ranch house for months without venturing out for supplies.
As they unloaded the coolers, Brynn felt her throat catch. Julia had done so much for her.
Her friend panted as she pushed a box of steaks onto the top shelf of the freezer. “Whew!” She rubbed cold hands together, then glanced up at Brynn, her face sobering. “What is it?”
Brynn swallowed the rush of emotion. “Wondering where I’d be if you hadn’t stepped in with your offer. Your haven has become mine.”
Julia took her arm. “It can’t be said enough—that’s what friends are for. Brynn, you’ve always been there for me when I’ve slipped, fallen or just plain skidded. I’m glad the house is here—that it’s safe. Come on, let’s dig into those doughnuts and you can tell me more about this guy who’s trying to push his daughter on you.”
Somehow it didn’t seem that sinister in the light of Julia’s practical optimism. Still, over doughnuts and fresh coffee, Brynn told all she knew about Jake McKenzie.
“Have the Cranstons called you back?”
Brynn frowned. “No. And that’s the biggest hitch. They were so grateful that I helped Susan I can’t understand why they would disregard my wishes.”
“Just guessing, I’d say if they did tell McKenzie about you, they didn’t realize the seriousness of compromising your privacy.”
Reluctantly, Brynn nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
Julia added cream to her coffee. “And I can’t help wondering how McKenzie came up with Susan’s name if he’s not the real deal.”
“Good point.” Brynn abandoned her doughnut. “Unless I’m being watched.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t take that leap quite so fast.”
“I’ll try the Cranstons again.” Brynn paused. “Or maybe it would be best to speak with their doctor first.”
Leaving the table, she put in a call to the psychiatrist who had referred the Cranstons. He was with a patient, but the receptionist assured Brynn she would pass along the message.
“So we still know nothing for sure,” Julia concluded as Brynn clicked off the phone.
“Yep.”
“Brynn, what aren’t you telling me?”
She closed her eyes briefly, the words difficult to summon. “The girl, McKenzie’s daughter. Her pain…I recognized it. Even though I didn’t realize it at the time, I see now that it’s like Sarah’s was. I can’t help thinking this could be a second chance for me.”
“You sure that’s not wishful thinking?” Julia asked gently.
“I suppose it sounds that way.” Brynn exhaled. “And I can see how it appears from your perspective. Doesn’t seem credible, does it?”
Julia’s mouth lifted in a wry half smile. “I’m not making any judgments. I haven’t walked in your shoes.”
Familiar pain filled her. “Don’t.”
Julia linked her arm with Brynn’s. “How ’bout getting a start on those twenty miles?”
Taking a healing stroll through the soothing countryside sounded like a very good idea. She pocketed the cell phone. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
Julia grabbed another doughnut with her free hand. “We might have to make that thirty miles.”
BY SUNDAY EVENING, Brynn knew little more than she had before Julia arrived. Her friend provided a stabilizing, calming effect. But Brynn needed to know more about Jake McKenzie, especially since his daughter remained in her thoughts.
Sipping a glass of pleasingly tart blush wine, Brynn stared at the phone, willing it to ring.
“The Cranstons might have gone out of town for the weekend,” Julia suggested.
“I thought of that. But it irks me that the doctor hasn’t phoned.”
“A doctor on the weekend? You’d have a better chance of getting through to the White House.”
“So what do I tell McKenzie tomorrow?”
Julia met her gaze. “I didn’t meet him, so I can’t give an opinion. But my gut instinct says protect this place.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s more than just McKenzie, isn’t it?”
Brynn placed her glass on the table, restlessness overtaking her. “I can’t run forever, especially since I don’t know what I’m running from.”
“The unknown’s damn scary,” Julia advised gently. “But if the police couldn’t discover a motive for the break-ins, how can you expect to? You know they scanned Kirk’s photos, compared them with the national data bank. And they admitted the photos were exactly what they appeared to be. No covert snap of anyone famous or infamous.”
“The second set of detectives believed that was because photography was supposed to be Kirk’s cover.” Even now, the bile rose in her throat as she remembered their insinuations. They felt he must have been involved in something shady and ultimately lethal.
“But you know the truth.”
Did she? In her darkest moments, Brynn wondered if she could have somehow been wrong—horribly, terribly wrong. The man she knew had loved his family and put them first. Yet she had no explanation for