The woman glanced from Logan to Anna, concern wrinkling the brow over her dark brown eyes. “Yes, they do both look a bit ragged. But it’s hours yet until they need to make an appearance. I’ve reserved a suite at the hotel, where you and I can change so that I can be on hand to oversee the last-minute arrangements. When I planned this months ago, I’d figured that Anna would go with us, and keep Aunt Grace company until it was time to go downstairs. But Chas and Nicole can take care of Grace. That way, Anna can stay here and rest up while Logan goes home and catches up on his sleep before dressing and returning to get her. And who knows? Perhaps after Anna takes a nap, her memory will have returned and everything will be fine.”
Rose knew that neither of these things were going to happen. First, she had no memories of Anna’s life to recall. And second, nothing was going to be fine until she escaped from this mad house.
That was going to have to wait a bit, however. No one would believe her now if she were to suddenly insist that she was Rose Delancey. Most likely they would cart her off and lock her up in the room they’d reserved for poor Anna. So, until she could get them to leave her alone she would be forced to go along with this charade.
“Anna.”
Rose’s heart beat two or three times before she realized she was being spoken to. Turning to the speaker, Robert Benedict, she was met by soft brown eyes full of concern as he took her hand.
“Are you up to this plan?”
Rose took a deep breath. As soon as these people cleared out of this room, she had every intention of slipping out the sliding glass door and making her way to freedom. She no longer gave a fig who this Anna person was, or why she’d had all those dreams of the view outside this window. She just wanted to get back to her own life. This might not happen, though, if she gave these people any reason to suspect that she might do anything other than what they were suggesting.
But she’d been raised not to lie, so she forced a small smile to her lips and said simply, “I’m feeling okay.”
“Wonderful!” Elise leaned forward to brush a kiss across Rose’s cheek before stepping back, saying, “Robert, we need to be hurrying along. Logan, you go home and rest up. Anna, are you hungry? No, well then you take a long nap. Your dress hasn’t arrived yet, but I’ve been assured it will be here in plenty of time.”
The woman started to leave, then stopped and reached out to take Rose’s hand. “Anna, dear, your father needs to be seen with his family. Promise me you will be there, and on your best behavior.”
Rose stared into those dark eyes. Promise? Kathleen Delancey had held promises sacred and taught her daughter to do the same. If she promised, she would have to follow through. And if she didn’t, the slight narrowing of Elise’s eyes suggested that she might end up in a nut house.
“I promise,” Rose breathed.
At that, Elise released her hand. “Robert,” she said. “Doctor—I think we can leave now. Logan. You, too.”
Logan nodded but didn’t follow the other three out of the room. When they’d disappeared into the hall, he looked at Rose and asked, “Are you going to be all right here?”
After a moment of hesitation, Rose shook her head. “No. Not at all. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”
She expected him to scowl. Instead his gaze softened with understanding as he asked, “The crowd thing?”
Rose blinked. “What crowd thing?” Before he could reply, she stuck her hand out in a halting motion. “Never mind. I don’t want you to explain. I want you to listen. I can’t keep the promise I just made. I can’t go to this dinner campaign thing and pretend to be someone I’m not. I can’t—won’t—live a lie. I am not Anna, and I will no longer pretend to be her.”
Logan closed his eyes and shook his head. A jolt of anger and fear made Rose grab his upper arms, much as he had held hers so many times that day, and shake him.
“Listen,” she hissed as his eyes flew open. “You have to believe me. If I am telling the truth, then Anna is out there somewhere, alone, confused and probably frightened.”
“Confused,” he said quietly, gazing at her pointedly. “Undoubtedly.”
Rose shook her head. “I am not confused. I have people you can call who will confirm that I am who I say I am. The woman who owns half of my mother’s shop, for instance. I’ll give you the number. Call her.”
“Why should I believe someone I’ve never met?”
Rose’s frustration was building by the moment. She clenched her teeth. “All right. Then…then have me write something and compare it to something Anna has written.”
“You could easily disguise your handwriting, so that won’t prove anything,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “However, I could arrange to have your fingerprints analyzed.”
There was no mistaking the challenge in his gaze. Instead of retreating from this, Rose smiled.
“You’re on.”
Chapter 4
Twenty minutes later Rose was seated in Logan’s red Mustang.
“Where are we going?” she asked as Logan finished pulling off the quiet residential street and onto a busy boulevard.
He gave her a quick glance before turning his attention to the traffic ahead. “To see a friend of mine from college.”
Rose blinked. Her life had been turned upside down and he wanted to socialize? Slowly she asked, “And we would do this because…?”
“Because he works in the police forensics lab.” Again Logan glanced her way. “You are still willing to prove your identity, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, I have the glass from Anna’s bathroom, one of her perfume bottles and her brush, which should hold her fingerprints. I also have a clean glass for you to leave your prints on. My friend Dennis agreed to do a quick comparison. That is, if you’re still so sure of yourself.”
Logan turned narrowed eyes to Rose as the car stopped for a red light. She stiffened beneath his suspicious glance. “I’m sure. And once I prove to you that I am Rose Delancey, I want you to promise—”
“One step at a time,” Logan broke in.
Rose had barely managed to nod before Logan’s attention was once more captured by traffic. As the car moved forward, he shifted into second gear, then into third to race down the street. As he swerved from one lane to another, passing the slower vehicles, Rose’s heart leaped, then began to race.
Was this due to fear, she wondered, or excitement? The last few years had become a blur of doctors’ offices, hospital rooms and the small chamber her mother retreated to after each chemo treatment. There had been ups and downs to deal with, hopes and fears, tears and laughter. So her life had hardly been uneventful. And although she and her mother had been dealing with death, together they had learned to live each day as fully as possible, to notice the way the clouds moved in, the taste and texture of each bite of food.
But since the funeral Rose had come to see how narrow her world had grown, and how empty she felt. She’d greeted this numbness with fury, seeing it as a poor way to remember the woman who had given her life, showed her how to live, encouraged her to dream and to follow those dreams, even as all of hers were fading.
Rose sighed and stared out the window at the tall buildings and the business-lunch crowds bustling along the sidewalk. Kathleen Delancey had undoubtedly been referring to life choices and career direction when she’d urged her daughter to “follow your dreams,” but the woman’s death had left Rose feeling too