Hand-Me-Down Princess by Carol Moncado Page A

scooted off the bed and came to kneel in front of her. “But they were your parents in all the ways that mattered. They took care of you when you skinned your knee and provided you with food and a roof over your head. One of the last things your father did was make sure you would be taken care of for the rest of your life through this marriage contract.”
    Her father. All the times something didn’t quite seem to make sense suddenly became clear. Yes, he’d want her taken care of, but he’d always been distant. Had it been because she wasn’t his own flesh and blood? Would he have bonded differently with her if she’d been his biological child?
    “There’s a letter from your mother in there, as well as one from your father. I haven’t read them, but maybe they’ll explain it more fully. Maybe they have an idea who your birth parents are, even if it’s not in the paperwork.”
    “Maybe.” Did she want to know? Or would she rather remain oblivious to the identity of her birth parents?
    “Do you want me to read everything more carefully for you?”
    Jessabelle shook her head. “No. Thank you for the offer, and I may take you up on it later, but I think I’ll read through it in the morning.”
    He leaned up and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Anything you need, I’m here for you, Mia Belle .”
    “Thank you.” Her world had been rocked, but she hadn’t yet begun to process it. It would take time. Reading through the paperwork. Reading the letters from her parents. Maybe then she’d be able to wrap her mind around the idea that her parents weren’t her parents. Sure. Her husband was right. They’d taken care of her, but her continual feeling of not quite belonging now made much more sense.
    She continued to sit there as he stacked the pages, fastened the binder clip, and slid it all back into the envelope. He laid it on the table on his side of the bed before disappearing into the closet. Jessabelle stared at the envelope, picked it up, and carried it to the other side of the bedroom and tucked it in the drawer of the desk Malachi told her would be hers.
    The next few days passed. Jessabelle put the knowledge about her birth as far from her mind as she could. She spent the days sorting through things at her father’s home and her nights trying not to toss and turn, disturbing her husband’s sleep.
    She’d dressed in blue jeans and an old T-shirt for another day of work, this one in the attic, when Malachi walked out of their shared closet. His frown told her of his displeasure.
    “I’m sorry, Jessabelle. Didn’t I tell you about the luncheon?”
    “Luncheon?” She searched her mind but came up blank. “I don’t think so.”
    “There’s a luncheon today. A fundraiser. They were told we would both be there, and I confirmed it Friday. They’ve advertised it as your first official fundraising function.” He frowned again. “I really didn’t tell you?”
    She shook her head. “You may have, but I don’t recall.”
    His face softened. “I’m sorry, love. I know you have a plan for today at your father’s house, but I do need you there. Can you please attend?”
    Jessabelle sighed and nodded. “I can.”
    He kissed her cheek. “My sister’s assistant and stylist will be working with you until you hire your own. They’ll make sure you’re wearing the right thing and that you get there on time. I have a meeting this morning with Lizbeth Bence about the Adoption Option fundraiser in a few weeks. She and I will likely travel together from the meeting to the luncheon.”
    Something stirred, deep inside. Jealousy? Surely not. She had no real attachment to Malachi, but she didn’t want him spending time, even innocuous fundraising time, with another woman. She simply said, “Good-bye” as he left.
    Four hours later, she twisted her napkin in her hands under the table. The chairs to her left were both empty. No one had told her where they were, but it was nearly time for the speaker’s