After Keagan’s heads-up phone call to say he was bringing Jasmyn home, Liv whooped in the privacy of her cottage. The explanation was a tad worrisome—a sister in San Diego?—but the bottom line was that she had been given more time to spend with Jasmyn.
After they arrived, Liv reined in her emotions. To some extent.
Her bear hug was probably a bit overdone. She effused too much about how her casa was still Jasmyn’s casa, that the sofa, table, and bed were still in place, that she had stocked the refrigerator with just a few items to tide Jasmyn through the night and morning, that they would figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.
At least she had stopped short of tucking the girl into bed. Mama Liv doling out that much smothery effort might send the wrong message. Like she was glad Jasmyn’s world had once again been turned upside down.
Jasmyn saw her to the door, clearly exhausted, clearly a jumble of emotions. “How do we pray?”
“Thanks and help.” Liv kissed her cheek. “Lots of unknowns, Jasmyn, dear, but they will become known in due time. Get some sleep.”
Outside, Liv kept her feet on the flagstones instead of dancing a jig. Jasmyn might be watching from the window. She rounded the corner of her cottage and saw Keagan in the shadows, leaning against the office door, his arms crossed.
She pulled her ring of keys from a pocket. “You kept her out long enough.”
“She wasn’t ready to come home yet.”
“ ‘Home.’ ”
“Figure of speech.”
Liv chuckled and unlocked the door. Keagan entered behind her and shut it against the cool night air while she turned on lamps. Of course he was thinking the same thing she was. “Google?”
He carried one of the overstuffed chairs around the desk, sat down in her leather executive chair, and pulled out the keyboard. “I’ll drive.”
She smiled and sank onto the more comfy chair beside him. The desk was a big old thing with enough legroom for two. “You can be such a guy sometimes.”
“Mm-hmm.” He turned on the computer, which she had already shut down for the night. “We went to the Maritime Museum. She wanted to see the displays again about the tuna fishermen in the early days.”
“I thought she might have wanted to do some online research.”
He shook his head, typing, eyes on the monitor. “I’m not sure she has a technical bone in her body.”
“Probably not. She’s all heart. She kept saying she doesn’t know where to put this information. It’s a shock to her system, for sure. How was she when you picked her up at the airport?”
“What you just saw, only ten times worse.”
“Weepy and giggly?” Liv tried to imagine ten times worse. Then she tried to imagine Keagan dealing with that. “What did you do?”
For a moment, he did not reply. His hands stilled over the keyboard. “Took her over to the Blue Crab for clam chowder.” He typed again.
“Clam chowder? Now that’s the way to comfort a woman.”
He clicked the mouse, apparently engrossed in where the links were leading him.
Or he might be keeping a private moment between him and Jasmyn private. Had he offered a hug? Any other guy would have, but stoic Keagan? She wasn’t sure, but if he had, it had been a significant event.
And she should stop meddling.
“It is the best chowder in the county,” she said. “Did you find anything at the museum?”
“No. She studied those faded photos until we were kicked out at eight.”
“It’s after ten.” She winced. Meddler.
“Then we drove around Point Loma,” he offered, no hint of exasperation. “She seemed to just want to hang out where her distant relatives might have lived.”
“Do you think they are her relatives?”
He tilted the monitor to give her a better view. “What do you think?”
Liv adjusted her glasses and looked at a family photo. An elderly couple, a middle-aged couple, a twentysomething couple, and two little tykes stood in front of a fishing boat, its hull and cabin painted an aqua color. The caption read: Carlos Anibal, center, founder of Anibal Cargo, and his family. From Tuna to Total Shipping Services—Transportation You Can Trust.
Except for the young woman, the people faded from Liv’s sight. “Oh, my. Do you see the same spitting image of Jasmyn that I see?”
“There’s a resemblance in Carlos too.”
Liv refocused her eyes. It was true. The hair, the skin tone, the stature, something about the nose. “Oh, my.”
There was a rap on the office door and Liv jumped. It opened a crack and Samantha peered inside. “Hey. Private party?”
“Come in, dear. Have you talked to Jasmyn tonight?”
“Jasmyn?”
“She’s still here.”
Sam, speechless, sat in the chair across the desk. She had just arrived home from work. Liv and Keagan filled her in. They showed her the online photo. Her eyes grew larger and larger.
“This is freaky,” she said more than once.
Keagan continued his research. He found the date of Carlos’s death—a year ago in September—and Manda Smith’s name as his daughter and owner, with her husband Jake Smith, of Anibal Cargo.
He looked up. “What else?”
Samantha stood. “DNA?”
“I’ll work on that.”
It was hard to tell when Keagan was joking. For all Liv knew, he had a plan to get samples from both Jasmyn and these people. She halfway hoped he did have such a plan. That would be true meddling.
Samantha stood. “I should go see her.”
When she had shut the door behind her, Liv turned to Keagan. “Do you think it’s too much to hope that Jasmyn finds her biological family and they’re wonderful and she decides to move to San Diego? To the Casa?”
His expression deadpan, he shut down the computer. Then he swiveled in the chair, leaned over, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “There’s always hope, Livvie,” he whispered and left the office.
What an odd evening. Keagan comforting Liv with a son-like kiss. Samantha behaving like a friend to Jasmyn.
She did not think she could have asked for more.
Not counting that little thing about Jasmyn moving into the Casa on a permanent basis.