He hadn’t outright said no.
“Have you tried to find your daughter before now?” the reporter asked Sofia Donatelli.
“Many times. My stepson even hired a private investigator a few years back. But I always come up against a brick wall.” Sofia talked with her hands, pantomiming the action of hitting a wall.
“Why do you think this search will be different?”
“Because I won the lottery and you put me on television.” Sofia grew more animated, her hand gestures more pronounced. “There’s a chance that my daughter or somebody who knows her could see this.”
The reporter’s forehead creased with little-used lines. “But how could anyone who sees you on television put the pieces of the puzzle together? You can’t know much more about your daughter than you’ve already told us.”
“Oh, but I do.” Sofia’s smile was bittersweet. “I wanted her to take a little bit of her Italian heritage with her so I stipulated that her adoptive parents keep the name I chose.”
Kaylee’s stomach seized. Her middle name was quintessentially Italian, a striking contrast to the American names of “Kaylee” and “Carter.”
“What is her name?” the reporter asked.
Kaylee held her breath as she waited for Sofia Donatelli’s reply.
“Constanzia,” Sofia said. “Her name is Constanzia.”
The breath whooshed out of Kaylee’s lungs. The room seemed to tilt and her head swam so that she couldn’t tell whether the sudden flickers on the television screen were due to a failing picture or her glazed eyes.
Kaylee’s full name was Kaylee Constanzia Carter.
“Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
The soft voice intruded into her consciousness. Her six-year-old son Joey stood in the middle of the living room. His hand rested on his Spider-man pajama top, his eyes drooped and misery clouded his cherubic face.
As she sat on the floor trying to come to terms with her shock and his sudden appearance, his color paled and his face contorted in pain. Kaylee leaped to her feet, scooped him up and reached the toilet in the bathroom the instant before he was sick.
As he retched, she rubbed his back to let him know that she was there. She felt every one of the spasms as though she were the one who was ill. When he was finally through, she ran a washcloth under the cold tap water and wiped his hot, little face. “Do you feel better now, honey?”
He nodded, but his lower lip trembled.
Thinking aloud, she said, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you eat that second hot dog at dinner.”
“Like hot dogs,” he mumbled. He blinked hard, trying valiantly not to cry.
Kaylee’s heart turned over. She gathered his small body close but still he didn’t surrender to tears. Was it because he’d sensed how hard things had become for her?
Being a single mother had never been easy, but she’d had a live-in support system until six weeks ago. She’d shared expenses, childcare duties and friendship with another single mother who had a little girl Joey’s age. Then Dawn met a man, took little Monica and moved away from Fort Lauderdale.
Dawn used to jokingly call Joey the man of the house. Had Joey taken that description too much to heart?
“It’s okay to cry if you need to, honey,” Kaylee whispered into his soft, sweet-smelling hair.
He held himself so rigidly that she thought he hadn’t heard her, but then the tension left his body in a rush and, finally, he cried. Not delicate, silent tears but noisy, shuddering sobs.
Kaylee held him close, glad of the comfort she could offer.
Her son’s appearance in the living room had prevented Kaylee from hearing what else Sofia Donatelli had to say. She told herself it didn’t matter. Constanzia was her middle name, not her first name. Some other Constanzia was Sofia’s birth daughter.
Or maybe you are.
She shut her mind to the thought.
Still, she knew that if she’d seen the news feature years ago, she would have jumped in her car and driven through the night to Ohio in her quest to learn the truth.
But she was a mother now. She had responsibilities and one of those was to curb the rash part of her nature that had gotten her into so much trouble when she was growing up.
The notion that the lottery winner who lived in the lush Ohio Valley could be her mother amounted to nothing but a fantasy.
The sobbing, little boy in her arms who depended upon her was her reality.
CHAPTER TWO
TONY DONATELLI nearly dropped the phone. “You did what?”
“I already told you, Tony. I let that nice young television reporter know I’m searching for Constanzia.” Sofia Donatelli made it sound as though she’d been conversing with a friend instead of issuing a potentially explosive announcement.
“The best part was that affiliate stations might pick up the feature and run with it,” she continued in the same cheerful tone. “Isn’t that wonderful? That means people all across the country might see it.”
Tony’s fingers tightened on the receiver. “I thought we agreed when I was in Ohio last month that you wouldn’t give any interviews. I thought you wanted to keep your life as normal as possible.”
“I do,” Sofia said. “But I haven’t had any luck finding Constanzia on my own, and I got to thinking that I could use the publicity to my advantage.”
“Publicity isn’t always a good thing, Sofia. Did it occur to you that McIntosh is about to be besieged by women who claim their name is Constanzia?”
She laughed the same laugh that had warmed him since his father had brought her into their lives. Tony had been a six-year-old boy desperately in need of a mother. His father, widowed for almost that long, had needed a wife. Sofia had only been twenty, but she’d fulfilled both roles beautifully. Tony still thought she’d given his late father far more than he’d deserved.
Tony would have gladly called her “Mom,” but she’d always insisted he refer to her as “Sofia.” She said she never wanted him to forget that the woman who’d given birth to him had loved him with all her heart, even if he didn’t remember her.
“I hardly think Constanzias will storm the town, Tony. I only gave away the one daughter.”
“And how much money have you given away since you won the lottery?”
“I really can’t say.”
Tony couldn’t either, and that was the crux of the problem. He’d fled the stifling environment of McIntosh for Michigan State as soon as he was old enough for college, found excuses not to come home for the summer, settled in Seattle after graduation and had only returned to Ohio for brief visits since.
Even after his father died of a sudden heart attack two years ago, Tony could justify living apart from Sofia. She was still a young woman, her life was in McIntosh and she’d visited him often in Seattle.
A one-dollar lottery ticket she’d bought on a whim after stopping for bottled water at the 7-Eleven had changed everything.
Sofia had beaten fourteen-million-to-one odds by predicting the six correct numbers in the Super Lotto. As the single winner, the ten-million dollar jackpot was hers and hers alone.
The irony that Sofia was the one who’d gotten rich quick didn’t escape Tony. She’d all but supported their family single-handedly while he was growing up. His father had worked sporadically, persisting in the mistaken