Chapter 17

MIKE MADE THE TWO-HOUR DRIVE FROM CONEY ISLAND to Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, at the crack of dawn with only his iPod and two venti Starbucks to keep him company. The coffee worked its magic, and the Visine he bought at the convenience store where he stopped to fill up the gas tank did its job. Now all he had to do was get some food in his stomach. Luckily, he arrived early enough and hunted down a diner along the main drag. He hadn’t eaten in… damn, since lunch the day before when he’d grabbed a couple of street vendor hot dogs that he’d been burping up ever since. Everything ingested after that had been liquid. He parked, got out of the car, and stretched. His head ached, his body ached, but most of all his heart ached. God, he’d never thought he could hurt so badly.

He’d driven past Eastern Heart Specialists three blocks down. The four-story building was impressive. The only question in his mind was the proximity to his biological father. If Becca knew he existed, it wouldn’t be long until his father knew, and the last thing Mike wanted was to be rubbing shoulders with the old man.

After getting a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer out of a machine outside the diner, Mike took a seat at the counter and checked out the local real estate listings while he ate. He wouldn’t be able to afford a house for a few years. Main Line prices were outrageous. But, it wasn’t as if he had to worry about having a wife and family any time in the next century. He had a feeling it would be at least that long before he could get Annabelle out of his mind.

After breakfast, Mike went to his interview. In the parking lot, he straightened his tie in the car’s reflection, donned his suit jacket, and grabbed his briefcase. He didn’t look like he spent his evening getting his heart stomped on and then shit-faced, he just felt as if he had.

He entered the office and introduced himself to the receptionist. She stared at him openmouthed.

“Is there something the matter?”

She quickly shut her mouth and shook her head. “No. Nothing, Doctor… ”

“Flynn. Mike Flynn. I have an appointment with Dr. Connor.”

“Yes. If you’ll just have a seat. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Mike took a seat and checked his cell phone to make sure it was on vibrate. The last thing he wanted was to get a call in the middle of an interview. A woman who walked with an air of authority stepped out of the elevator. “Dr. Flynn?”

Mike stood. “Yes.”

“Hello.” She shook his hand. “I’m Shirley Payne, Dr. Connor’s assistant. I’ll take you up. If you’ll come with me?”

“Certainly.” Mike grabbed his briefcase and followed her into a waiting elevator. She slid her key card through the reader, and the elevator took them to the fourth floor.

Shirley led him to what looked like the boardroom, offered him coffee, and left him alone to await Dr. Connor. He’d done his research. Dr. Connor was one of the managing partners, in her early fifties. She’d made her name in the area of geriatric care and was voted the number one geriatric cardiologist on the East Coast by other cardiologists.

When Dr. Connor entered, he stood and shook the hand of a surprisingly petite woman. She couldn’t have been any taller than five feet, but her bearing in no way equaled her diminutive stature.

“Dr. Flynn, thank you for agreeing to come down for an interview.”

“I’m flattered to receive an invitation.”

She motioned him to sit, placed a file on the conference table, and then fixed herself coffee from the thermal carafe on the bar.

“We’ve recently merged with another practice and gained a new managing partner. He brought with him a full patient list, leaving us in desperate need of another pulmonologist. He strongly suggested we interview you. We’ve heard great things about you.”

“That’s quite a compliment.”

She turned to him and smiled. “I’m told it’s well deserved.”

What did one say to that? “I like to think so.”

“I’ve looked through your file. I know you’ve done quite a lot of research. You held either the number one or number two position in your class all through medical school.” She sipped her coffee and checked the notes in her file. “It says here, you received one of the most sought-after fellowships in your field and obtained glowing reports from all you’ve studied under.” She closed the file and pushed it aside. “We didn’t look into your present situation for fear we’d raise suspicions, in case you weren’t interested in making a move.”

He let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. I appreciate that. I was told that a Mr. Tuggle spoke to one of my nurses regarding my work habits. When she asked what it was in reference to, she was told it was a survey of pulmonology practices.”

Dr. Connor shrugged. “We wanted to make sure you were easy to work with. We’re a close-knit group and are very particular when it comes to the partners we invite in. We look for team players and want to make sure you’d be a good fit. Your nurses raved about you. Though you don’t have patients in the area, your youth and background make up for that.”

She handed Mike a presentation folder. “Here’s what we’d be able to offer you. I’ll give you a few minutes to look it over, and then another managing partner will be in to speak with you. There are four managing partners at present, but unfortunately, due to the holiday, we’re the only two available to meet with you. We do have the authority to make you an offer today if all goes well. He’ll be in to see you in a few moments.”

She closed the file, left it on the conference table, and rose. Mike stood and shook her hand. “Thank you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

She covered his hand with both of hers. “I hope it all works out. I think I’d enjoy working with you. I’ll see you before you leave.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mike opened the offer and was glad he was sitting down. Maybe he would be able to buy a house after all, though, what would be the point? He’d be living alone in a big house. The practice didn’t require a buy-in, had a more than generous salary, profit sharing, partnership in two years, and with the benefits, the position, if offered, would be impossible to turn down. Especially when he took into account the distance it would give him from Annabelle.

The door opened, and Mike stood. He held on to the table to keep upright. Dr. Christopher Larsen was obviously the new managing partner Dr. Connor spoke of. Christ. Mike had seen his pictures, even imagined meeting him in the flesh, but was totally unprepared for the reality.

“I see by the look on your face you know who I am.”

“Yes. I’ve known who you were since before I can remember. It’s not news.”

“I find myself at a disadvantage. I only found out about you a few weeks ago.”

“If you hadn’t been cheating on my mother with your fiancée, you would have found out much sooner.”

“I never wanted to marry Bitsy. My family forced the engagement, and I just went along.”

“Sure you did. People get engaged every day and don’t mean it.” Heck, his own father had been engaged to two women at once, and Mike couldn’t even manage one.

“It was never real, at least not in my mind. It always felt so far away, and then I met your mother. I was in love with her, and I knew I had to come clean.”

“You didn’t come clean with my mother. She didn’t know until she saw the announcement of your engagement in the Times.”

Larsen blanched at that and took a deep breath. “No, I told Bitsy I was in love with Colleen and wanted out. Everyone was in an uproar. My family cut off my trust fund, and a couple of days later, Bitsy said our parents announced our engagement behind our back. I had nothing to do with it. I found out years later that it was all Bitsy’s idea. She said she’d put them up to it. That’s when I divorced her.”

Mike reached for his briefcase. “I have nothing more to say to you.” He slapped the offer down on the conference table and stepped away.

“Now wait just a minute.” Larsen stood in front of the double doors, blocking the only exit. “Let me explain.” Christopher raised his hands. “I ran back to New York to tell your mother that the announcement was a mistake, but she’d already left. Your grandparents spit in my face.”

“You deserved it.”

Christopher hung his head. “I did. I should never have let my parents force me into a relationship I never wanted. I’m not perfect. I was young, and they held the purse strings. It was easier to go along to get along.

“Colleen’s parents told me she’d gone back to Ireland and had already married someone they approved of. They threatened to call the police if I ever showed my face again. I wanted to go over there to find her, but she was already married. I was too late.”

“Well, that’s a lie.”

Larsen looked stricken, “Michael, I’m not proud of myself. Believe me, I’ve paid for that mistake every day of my life. I’m not lying. Unfortunately, I did what was expected and eventually married Bitsy.”

“Mum was never married. That was a lie. You left my mother pregnant, alone, and brokenhearted. She was thrown out of her home and disowned by her family all thanks to you. She went back to Ireland to stay with the only person who would have her—her aunt. That’s where I was born.”

Mike’s father pulled a chair out and sat. “She didn’t get married?”

Mike shook his head.

“Oh Christ. They said she was married. If I thought there was a chance… I loved your mother. I loved her, damn it. I loved her.”

If his father was lying, he was the best actor Mike had ever seen. Shit, the man was on the verge of tears. Mike didn’t know what to think. He sat and watched the man who fathered him try to pull himself together. He looked at Mike through glassy, pleading eyes.

“Is she okay? Colleen?”

“Yes, she’s… we’re fine.”

“I need to talk to her, to explain. I… I… Jesus Christ, I would never have married Bitsy if I thought there was a chance for us.”

“Bitsy? You’re kidding me, right? There are actually people named Bitsy?”

“Yes, there are. We’re divorced now.”

“So you did marry Bitsy.”

“Yes, I did, a couple of years after your mother left. I married her and had children—twins. Is your mother… is she married?”

“No. Never. How did you find me?”

“Your sister found you, actually. You have a striking resemblance to your late brother, Chip. She saw a picture of you at a wedding.” Larsen raked his hands through his short, graying hair. “Becca brought me your picture demanding to know if you were somehow related to us. She told me your name. I knew you were my son.” His eyes were glassy and distant. “I still can’t believe your mother never told me…” Larsen stood, pushing his chair back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped all this on you so suddenly. Can I get you a water?”

“No, thank you. I spoke to Becca last night. She called me after… well, after I found out about her and Chip. I found a painting of Chip at my girlfriend’s apartment. You can imagine my shock.”

“You do have an amazing resemblance.”

“Annabelle never told me.”

“Annabelle Ronaldi? What does she have to do with any of this?”

Mike had never seen such hatred on anyone’s face. “I dated her seriously for the last month or so.”

“Shit, she’s got her hooks into you, too. She lost her meal ticket when Chip died. I guess when she found you, she worked the same scam.”

Mike stood. “Hold on, I don’t care who the hell you are. I won’t let you or anyone talk about Annabelle like that.”

Larsen held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what the girl’s got, but whatever it is seems to appeal to the Larsen men.”

“I’m a Flynn.” All the anger he’d tapped down last night returned and threatened to overflow.

Larsen smiled. “Damn, you’ve got your mother’s temper, don’t you? You must feel as if you’ve been run through the ringer. I’ve known about you over a week, and I still have a hard time, but then I look at you…” He shook his head and then stared at the floor. “I’ll be right back. Please just give me a minute. I have something to show you.”

Mike nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was riled about. It wasn’t as if Annabelle cared for him. She only saw him as Chip’s replacement. He backed into a leather chair and sat.

Larsen returned a moment later with a file. “I had my assistant pull this for me.” He opened it. “Here’s my divorce decree. You’ll find my marriage date listed there.”

Mike looked at Larsen and then took the paper he offered. At the moment, he could really care less when Larsen married. The date highlighted was less than a month before Mike’s second birthday. At least the old man hadn’t lied about that.

“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I think working here, at the practice, would be a good move for you. I’m aware of the problems you’re having in your present position.”

Mike picked up the proposal folder and ripped it in two. He calmly set it back on the table and slid it to Larsen without a word.

“Now, calm down. I merely asked a few friends in the area if they’d heard about you and what they thought. I’m told there’s a rumor going around that you’re causing problems over an incompetent partner. Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who has noticed his incompetence.”

Mike nodded. It was the truth.

“Come here and work. I won’t say anything about our relationship if you’d rather I didn’t.”

Mike let out an incredulous laugh. “That seems kind of senseless doesn’t it? When I walked in the building, the receptionist was stunned speechless. I don’t know what Becca looks like, but it seems I look as much like you as Chip did. I’d be surprised if news of your bastard son hasn’t hit the society page of the Philadelphia Inquirer by now. You can bet you’ll be the topic of conversation at the country club.”

Larsen winced and shook his head. “I’m not concerned with what the Inquirer says, or anyone else for that matter. The only people I care about in this whole world are you, your mother, and your sister, Becca. And as for you, you can bet your life you would have been born a Larsen had I known about you. What your mother and I had… well, it should have lasted forever.”

“Yes, well it didn’t, and my mother and I have done quite well on our own.”

“I’m glad. I’m so proud of you both. It couldn’t have been easy. Believe me, if I could turn back time… But I can’t. What I have done though is make sure you’re given your birthright.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are my son. That makes you and your sister the beneficiaries of half the Larsen estate. The house automatically gets passed on from first son to first son. I’m still living in it. I thought I’d give it to Becca once she married. But since I’ve found you—”

Mike sat. “I don’t want your estate or your money.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not mine. It’s yours. I’ve only been a steward of the estate. It’s been held in trust for years. It was never mine. I only control it. I’ll need a copy of your birth certificate for the lawyers.”

“Inheritance? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. You have a rather large inheritance. I can get you an exact figure if you like.”

Mike gripped the arms of his chair. “No, a ballpark estimate will be sufficient.”

“I’d say somewhere in the neighborhood of seven million dollars. That’s not including the value of the estate.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, son, I’m not.” Larsen sat beside Mike. “I know this is all a shock, and it’s going to take some getting used to.”

Mike laughed. “A shock was seeing you walk through that door. But this… well, seven million bucks in the bank is a hell of a lot more than a shock.”

“Look, why don’t you follow me to the house. I can show you around, we can have lunch, and you can take some time to decide what you want. We’re pretty hard up for a pulmonologist, but we can give you a few weeks to make a decision.”

Mike stood and looked at the man who fathered him. He was the same height, a bit heavier, but Mike attributed that to age and diet. He probably ate three meals a day. His hair was graying but looked as if it had been the same color as Mike’s when he was younger. He looked good for his age. “I could use some time. I… I don’t know what to do about the money. I don’t feel as if it’s mine. I’m sure Becca…”

“Becca never cared much about the money. Your brother, well, he lived on it, but Becca never has. She lives in a loft apartment in South Philly. I worry about that girl, but she stopped listening to her mother years ago. I don’t think she ever listened to me. She’s a bit of a free spirit.”

“After our conversation, I’m not surprised.”

“Well, what do you say? Care to join me for lunch?”

“As long as you understand that my joining you means nothing more than that.”

“Okay. I suppose it’s a start.” Larsen stood and held out his hand.

Mike pushed out of his seat and took his father’s hand in a firm handshake. “I guess it is.”

“Rebecca Elizabeth Larsen, I insist you return my call.”

Becca had ignored the last five voice mails her mother left and was likely to ignore this one too.

“I just received a phone call from Janice Hopkins. She said there’s word at your father’s practice that his love child is being given a position at EHS. This is very serious. Return. My. Call.”

Oh, so Mommy Dearest heard the news. My, my, my, doesn’t good news travel fast?

Becca hit her speed dial. “Hello, Mother, you rang… repeatedly?”

“You don’t care that you’re losing seventeen million dollars and change?”

“Not especially, no.” Becca had more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life without her inheritance. She had invested wisely. Her parents forced her to go to college. After learning from mistakes other debs who had lost their inheritances to social climbing men more interested in their trusts than in them or to crooked accountants, she majored in finance and minored in art. Who knew she was both left- and right- brained. As far as her mother was concerned, she was neither.

“I have it on good authority that your father’s lawyer is taking more than half your inheritance and giving it to this bastard child who popped up out of nowhere.”

“Stop it, Mother. That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

“Your brother is dead.”

“Yes, but Mike is alive and well, and taking his rightful place in the family.”

“Have you seen proof of paternity?”

“Mother, there is no need for a DNA test. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. He and Chip could have been twins if Chip looked a bit more like Daddy.”

“You’re going to allow him to waltz in and take what’s rightfully yours?”

“He’s taking what’s rightfully his, and as for the estate and the inheritance, he’s more than welcome to it.”

“You’re not going protest this travesty? You’re going to let this bastard from Brooklyn move in and take all I’ve worked so hard to build for you?”

“Mother, the only thing you’ve ever worked hard on was getting your own way and making Daddy miserable. You screwed up, and you lost. Stop this, or you’ll lose more than just your marriage and your home. You’ll lose me, too.”

“How dare you talk to me that way? I’m only looking out for your best interests.”

“Ha. You’ve never looked out for anyone but yourself. If you’re worried about my money, it’s because you have plans for it. What are you going to do, Mother? Embezzle a few million?”

Becca moved the phone away from her ear before her mother started screaming. She didn’t need to hear it. She’d heard it all before. “Good-bye, Mother. I have to go.” She hung up the phone. The way she looked at it, if she said good-bye, she wasn’t hanging up on her mother, she was just ending a conversation before her mother was ready to. Her problem, not Becca’s. But then all the problems between her and both her parents were theirs and not hers. It’s a wonder the two didn’t get on better.

“Rebecca, it’s your father. Please return my call. It’s important.”

“Oh God, not the other one too.” Why couldn’t she come from a single-parent family? Becca wasn’t in the mood to deal with either of her parents today.

“Okay, listen. In case you’re screening your calls, I wanted to tell you that your brother Michael and I are on our way to the house. I’ve called ahead and asked Madge to prepare lunch. I hope you’ll join us. I’d like you to meet Mike… in person.”

He knew she’d spoken to him on the phone? Becca looked at her watch, it would take forty-five minutes to get there, and she needed to change. What did one wear to meet her long lost brother?

Becca threw riding tights, boots, a T-shirt, and a hard hat into a duffel bag. It had been a long time since she’d been home; she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to ride Big Red. Maybe after a swim in the pool, she’d ride down to the pond and see how everyone was doing.

She chose her clothes wisely—a bikini, matching shorts, and a top. Of course, the top wasn’t quite long enough to cover the tat or the belly-button ring. Daddy would likely have a coronary, but not in front of the new heir. Hmm. That might actually be fun.

Mike followed Larsen west on the main drag, which ran parallel to the train tracks, hence the name, the Main Line. They turned onto a side street and drove through horse country. Houses the likes of which he’d only seen in the Hamptons dotted the countryside. Old stone mansions with matching stone barns that were bigger than his apartment building.

He’d entered an alternate universe. Mike left Coney Island and his home with its perpetual scent of kraut and sausage, and came here to a land where people were actually named Biff and Bitsy. Where men wear Lilly Pulitzer pants and paid big bucks to look like one of the kids in The Sound of Music, running around in clothes made of old curtains—and not for the laughs either. This alone was proof positive that money wasn’t indicative of brains or taste.

Larsen signaled a turn, drove through the opening in a stone fence, past what looked like an old-fashioned gatehouse. Mike wondered where Larsen’s house was. Right now, all he saw was a big stone barn, which was even larger than the others he’d seen along the way. He followed Larsen’s BMW closely through the gate, looking for a street sign. There was none.

About a mile down the road, they passed several houses, greenhouses, and a lake. Up ahead looked like a country club. It was a massive old mansion, beautifully kept. Mike pulled in to the circular drive and parked behind Larsen’s car. When his father jumped out, Mike followed suit. “I thought we were going to your house.”

Larsen turned and gestured to the mansion. “This is the house. The estate is on three hundred eighty-seven acres. There are seven cottages, three stables, three industrial-size greenhouses, a pool, tennis courts, a stocked pond, and a live trout stream. I can give you a tour later if you’d like.”

“This”—Mike pointed to the four-story mansion—“is your house?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve always known where you lived, and Mum said you were from a wealthy family, but I never imagined anything like this.”

“Your mother told you about me?”

“She wanted me to know where you were in case I ever needed or wanted to contact you.” Mike shrugged and dropped that subject.

“Well.” Larsen cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

Mike nodded and walked beside Larsen up the steps to the front door. It was a massive hand-carved door with a huge knocker, and it opened before Larsen even reached for the doorknob.

A woman of indeterminate age welcomed them. She smiled as they stepped into the cool foyer, and after getting a look at Mike, she paled.

Larsen took her arm to steady her. “Elaine, this is Dr. Michael Flynn, my son.”

“Mike, Elaine Rogers runs the household. She’s in charge of everyone and everything on the estate, including me.”

Elaine gathered her bearings quickly. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Mike shook her hand and tried to get a handle on the fact that he’d been introduced as Larsen’s son. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but from the look on the woman’s face—the same look he remembered Annabelle wearing the first time they’d met—he figured it was unavoidable.

She looked from Mike to Larsen. “Madge has lunch waiting for you in the family dining room.”

“Thank you.” Larsen put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I called and invited Rebecca to join us. I thought you’d enjoy meeting her. The girl never answers her phone so I don’t know if she got the message or not.”

Mike took in the huge foyer. The rose-colored marble covered the floor and a grand, curved staircase. Still digesting it all, he looked at his watch. “I’m going to have to leave in a couple of hours. I’m on call tonight.” He was really looking forward to working. At least there, he’d be so busy, he wouldn’t have time to think about Larsen, Becca, or Annabelle and Chip.

A topless, candy-apple red BMW Roadster squealed to a stop before they closed the front door. Mike looked from the driver, with her wind-whipped blonde hair, wide smile, and challenging raised eyebrow to Larsen, who looked as if he’d been out in the sun too long.

Tension anyone?

At that point, introductions were unnecessary. Mike recognized his sister from a picture Annabelle kept on her dresser of Becca and her together.

Becca grabbed a hold of the top of the windscreen, stood, and jumped from the car. She certainly knew how to make an entrance. No wonder Annabelle loved her so much. Mike tried to smile as the pain slammed into him again. He’d caught himself reaching for the phone a hundred times since he’d walked out her door. Sharing things with Annabelle had become second nature, along with sleeping with her, thinking about her, worrying about her, and loving her. He wanted to ask Becca if she’d heard from Annabelle, but they hadn’t even been introduced yet.

“Mike,” Larsen said. “This is Becca, my daughter.”

What do you do when you meet your sister for the first time? Shake hands? “Hello.”

Becca stood in front of him, wearing board shorts low on her hips, a tank top, the hem of which missed the waistband of her shorts by about four inches, and flip-flops. She was tall, lanky, and beautiful. She stared at him with green eyes shot with gold, a bit of copper, and a whole lot of curiosity. She had some amazing eyes, and right now, they were taking his measure.

“I’m not sure whether to say welcome to the family or tell you to run like hell.”

“Rebecca, that’s enough.”

“I get the feeling that both are equally heartfelt.”

“Annabelle said I’d like you. So, how are you feeling today?”

He couldn’t help but stare. He’d seen almost the same eyes on Chip’s painting, but Mike remembered that Chip had one eye that was half green and half brown.

“I’ll survive. Have you talked to Annabelle?”

Larsen’s face turned even redder. Mike wondered if he had blood pressure problems.

The old man swallowed hard. “I thought you were no longer seeing that…”

“Watch yourself, Daddy. You wouldn’t want Mike here to know how badly you treated the woman he loves.”

“I’m just worried about her. I need to know she’s all right.”

“What do you think she’s going to do, Mike? Jump off the Brooklyn Bridge? If that’s all you’re worried about, don’t bother. She’s been through tougher things than having her heart broken by you. This is a walk in the park compared to watching the only other man she ever loved die.”

Larsen butted in. “She was after Chip’s money. Just like she’s after Mike’s.”

Mike laughed. “I don’t have any money.”

“Yes, you do… or you will. Which is exactly why she got her hooks into you early.”

“That’s ridiculous. She never mentioned a word about Chip—at least not unless she was drugged.”

“So, she has a drug problem, too? It’s not surprising.”

Mike was beginning to really dislike Larsen. “She hurt her ankle and was on prescription painkillers. What is it with you? The only thing Annabelle is guilty of is loving Chip and not me. It’s a textbook case of transference. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

Becca laughed. “I thought you were a pulmonologist. I guess you’re a shrink now, too? You spend a week’s rotation in the psych ward during med school, and all of a sudden you’re Dr. Freud? You wouldn’t know transference if it bit you in the ass.”

“Yeah, and how the hell do you know?”

“Rebecca, Chip, that’s enough. Both of you.”

The old man looked from Becca to Mike. Becca paled and so did Larsen and Elaine. Mike couldn’t believe this was happening again. “I… I have to go.”

“Mike. I’m sorry. It was a slip of the tongue.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. I’ve had a hard couple of days, and I have to get back to work anyway. I need some time.”

Becca grabbed his arm. “Mike, wait.”

“No. I need to go.”

“Not while you’re upset.”

“Becca, I’ve been upset since yesterday. I’m fine. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I can handle it.”

Becca looked at her father pleadingly.

Larsen deflated like a balloon a week after the party. “I’m sorry, Mike. But seeing you and Rebecca fighting… just like she and Chip always did… well. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I.” Mike turned to leave.

Larsen touched his shoulder, and he stopped. “Michael, drive safely.”

He nodded, opened the heavy door, and walked out into the sunshine. Becca followed close behind.

“So, you’re running away again.”

Mike had had it. He was pissed, and she just pushed the wrong button. “I don’t need you or anyone telling me how to run my life. I’ve done fine without you and your father for thirty-two years. I’ll do fine without you now.”

Becca smiled, walked right up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him. “I’m still glad I found you. Or that Annabelle found you. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re my brother, and I love you. Daddy does too, probably more than you could even imagine. After all, you’re the product of the love of his life. You might as well get used to our family. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, and you know what? Neither is Annabelle. Once you get over your bad self and your wounded ego, you’ll see she loves you, too.”

Mike’s eyes stung. He wanted to throw her off him, but he couldn’t. Nor could he ignore what she said. He stepped back, and Becca let him go. Larsen and Becca watched him from the steps. He gave them a nod, got in, and drove around the circle going out the same way he’d come in. He raced toward the entrance of the estate, toward freedom. He drove down the driveway, past the gatehouse, through the opening in the stone fence, and off the property, but he didn’t feel any less trapped.