“What’s going on?” Maxine asked, only with her lips and a frown this time.
Maxine knew her better than anyone else. Too well, perhaps. She’d spent endless hours coaxing the shy foster girl out of her self-imposed shell. That same intensity and focus, which characterized Maxine overall, paid off in that there was no hiding anything from the woman’s eagle eye.
Lauren glanced at her satchel propped beside the door. The papers Jason had given her were inside, badly wrinkled and creased from all the times she’d pulled them out and read them.
She wanted to share the information with someone, needed to discuss it. Needed to—
Maxine’s hand settled on Lauren’s forearm and Lauren looked up. “What’s the matter?” Maxine prompted. The concern in her foster mother’s eyes was so deep. Lauren started to tell her.
But she held back.
While Maxine could help her, she would take over. Was Lauren ready for that?
“Is it the show?”
Lauren nodded, taking the reprieve Maxine inadvertently offered.
Maxine smiled and leaned back in her chair. Pulling her hand away, she signed as she spoke. “You’ll do magnificent, like always. Last year was a huge success.”
Lauren nodded, though still anxious about how this year would go. The annual fundraiser brought in the biggest chunk of the studio’s budget, after tuition. “There’s so much to do.”
Maxine tilted her head, an eyebrow lifted. “You don’t have to do this—”
Lauren was already shaking her head. They’d had this conversation a dozen times since Lauren had opened the studio. “I know,” Lauren signed. Looking around at the sumptuous surroundings of Maxine’s home, Lauren knew what Maxine meant.
Maxine had been on the stage as a child prodigy of ballet by five years old. Her toes had graced every great stage in the world. She’d earned more money than she could ever begin to spend.
She had offered to fund the studio for Lauren. An offer that tempted Lauren frequently, especially when the bills came. She made good money, just not enough to support a business and herself.
But if she accepted Maxine’s offer, her mentor would make a change here, a change there. She’d buy something new just because she felt it was necessary, something Lauren might not want. Lauren would lose control.
“Thanks, but I like doing the show.” And she did. Last year it had raised enough money for them to order half the new costumes and replace the stage curtains. “I want to do a good job.”
“The offer is always there.”
“I know and I appreciate it.”
The stillness stretched out. Maxine sat looking at her. “You’re not telling me everything.” She crossed her arms and met Lauren’s gaze with the piercing glare Lauren knew well.
Getting slowly to her feet, Lauren walked over to her bag and pulled out the papers, giving in to her need to share this with someone. Handing them to Maxine, she watched her eyes widen. “Your father?”
Lauren nodded, still not used to the idea.
“In Texas?” Lauren nodded. “Why now?” Lauren shrugged and the motion caught Maxine’s attention.
“Oh, honey.” She stood, setting the papers down on the table.
As if sensing Lauren’s mood, Maxine stood and took two steps to reach her. She pulled Lauren to her feet, and enveloped her in the motherly hug Lauren had fought against for so long, but which she now savored.
Finally, Lauren pulled away. “Why didn’t he find me when he was alive?” she signed slowly, not really wanting to admit her thoughts.
“You may never know.” Maxine tapped the papers with her finger. “But he owes you. This is what you deserve.”
Lauren wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t even sure what this was.
“I don’t want it!” She shook her head to emphasize her point. Maxine frowned but wisely didn’t say anything more. One third of an estate could be anything—or nothing. No sense getting her hopes up for nothing.
An hour later, Lauren headed home. Coming out of Maxine’s house, she paused at the top of the hill, waiting for the cab to wind its way up the long driveway, and looked out over the city.
Maxine’s parents had built this place, back when LA was a much smaller city, when the town hadn’t yet reached these hills. The other homes around were smaller, newer, not nearly as interesting as this place. Lauren remembered when social services had first brought her here. She’d been so scared. This was so far beyond anything she’d experienced. While she’d never thought of it as home, she was comfortable here.
She’d always been safe here.
The headlights of the cab cut through the growing night. She’d learned long ago to carry business cards with her home address on them. If she wasn’t going to drive, it wasn’t fair to expect a total stranger to know sign language. The man smiled at her and as she handed him the card, she signed hello, knowing he’d realize she was deaf. He glanced at the card and nodded.
They drove down the hill, the lights of the house blazing in her wake, the lights of the city reaching out and flashing over them as they moved.
He stopped at her door and she paid him. Her little condo was dark. She hadn’t left any lights on, not expecting to stay so long at Maxine’s. She laughed. Who was she kidding? There was no such thing as a short visit with Maxine.
Still, when she entered the small foyer and flipped the light switch, she smiled. This was hers. Her place. Her home. She’d worked so hard to afford it.
Putting her bag down, she saw the corner of the envelope. Had she done the right thing in telling Maxine? The doubts still lingered—about everything.
She stared at the envelope, suddenly curious about the two people who were listed to split the estate with her. She hastily pulled the pages out again. Palace Haymaker Jr., Palace A. Haymaker III—or Trey, as he was called. Why hadn’t it dawned on her before? A brother. A nephew.
Racing into the other room, she booted up her computer, wondering, hoping. Her fingers froze on the keys. Was this right? For so long she’d kept to herself. As a child, she couldn’t communicate with others, so they’d never asked questions. And neither had she. But...she’d never wanted to know so badly before.
She opened the browser. And typed in Palace Haymaker. Her finger hovered over the enter button for a long time. Then with a deep breath, she stabbed it, and watched the little hourglass spin.
Several notations filled the screen. An obituary? She swallowed. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She scrolled down. The Cattle Baron’s Ball in Dallas? Oh. Wow. She clicked the link and watched as pages of images flashed on the screen. Cowboy hats and big hair characterized them all.
Hungrily, her eyes scanned the page, skimming the captions. None of the faces, none of the names familiar. And then she saw it. Pal Haymaker and his son, Pal Jr. enjoy the music and drink.
The two men looked so much alike. Two big men, gray Stetsons on their heads. Neither of them smiled, looking at the photographer as if they were doing him a favor. Her father. Her brother. She stared, hoping to find some resemblance to herself. The hats made it difficult to see what color their hair was, and she assumed the cut was short. She remembered her mother having bright copper hair, the same color Lauren’d had as a child. The color that had faded as she’d grown up.
Maybe