Tangled Tapestry. Anne Mather

      He walked to the door. ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. I guess you won’t be working.’

      ‘I … I have a baseball match to attend in the afternoon,’ she said quickly.

      ‘High livin’,’ he mocked, his expression amused. ‘Okay, make it Sunday. At least that will give you a couple of days to cool down. I’ll pick you up at eleven in the morning, right?’

      ‘Why?’ Debra stared at him.

      ‘I have something to show you,’ he replied casually, opening the door. ‘Don’t worry, honey. You may find something in all this to enjoy.’

      ‘But—’ Debra linked her fingers. ‘I’m sure there ought to be something more than this to say. I mean, how do I know you are who you say you are?’

      He grinned then, a completely charming relaxation of his features. ‘Honey, no one would dare to impersonate me!’

      Then he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She ran to the door, but as her fingers closed over the handle she found she could not turn it. It was no use calling him back. It was her problem, and no one else’s, and her heartache if it turned out to be true. What kind of a person was Elizabeth Steel to turn her back on her own baby? Had she never had any curiosity about her own child? Did she have no desire to see her, developing into a child, and then … But her thoughts were brought up short. Elizabeth had been killed when she was only twelve years old. Might she have changed if she had lived? Would she eventually have acknowledged her offspring?

      And on the heels of this thought came another: if Elizabeth Steel was her mother, who was her father? Was she illegitimate? Was that why so little interest had been taken in her? Oh, God, she thought, feeling sickened. ‘It couldn’t be true,’ she said aloud, as though by voicing the opinion, it negated it.

      But the fact remained that there was a faint, yet sturdy, vein of authenticity about the whole affair. So many things linked together, most particularly her aunt’s attitude.

      And yet why should her aunt act that way? Why pretend she had no mother, even if that mother refused to acknowledge her? There were hundreds of children in similar circumstances, living with relatives because their parents hadn’t time for them. It didn’t make sense.

      When she went to bed that night her thoughts were no further forward. She felt a healthy resentment towards Dominic McGill for coming here so arrogantly, and brutally destroying her peace of mind. She was also aware that she had never met a man like him before. He could be hard and cold, yet when he smiled he had the charm of a small boy. A man of moods and complexes, completely outside her comprehension.

      She rolled over in her bed, punching her pillow into shape angrily. Whatever came of all this, whatever truths were uncovered, Dominic McGill was merely interested in her as Elizabeth Steel’s daughter, and as such, a possible asset to the remake of his famous ‘Avenida’. She must never, at any time, start thinking of him as a friend of hers.