she'd actually entertained the thought of keeping silent on the matter, but she could not. It was not only cowardly but dishonorable. No matter how much she loved Maggie, no matter how fiercely she wanted to protect her, she would never be able to live with such a deception.
"Something extraordinary has occurred." She looked around the table at each
of her friends and then at her mother. "I have found Maggie's parents."
The silence was as absolute as eternal damnation. Everyone sat completely still. Lucy fancied she could hear her own heart beating.
Then, with a clacking of cups and saucers set down in astonishment, everyone began talking at once. "How can you be sure?" "Who are they?" "Why didn't they find her after the fire?" "What will you do now?"
Lucy waited for the noise to subside. A thick heat filled her throat and she feared she might cry. But Lucy never cried. She was the Colonel's daughter, and she would keep control.
"I realized the truth," she explained, "when I was in Mr. Randolph Higgins's office at the bank." Her listeners sat stone-still, staring in amazement. After five years, Lucy had discovered the solution to a haunting mystery. All of them had wondered from time to time where Maggie had come from, and now they were about to find out.
"As we were discussing the loan, I learned that he and his wife had lost a child in the fire." She flushed, remembering her blunt questions and how callous they had seemed in light of what she'd learned about Mr. Higgins. She thought of his scars, his rigid self-control as he'd spoken to her of the tragedy. "I offered my condolences, but tho*ight no more of it until I saw, on his desk, a five-year-old photograph of his child." With a shaking hand, she held up her own baby picture of Maggie. "It was my Maggie. He said the baby in the photograph was his daughter, Christine, who was killed along with her nursemaid in the collapse of the Sterling House Hotel."
Another long, shocked silence greeted the revelation. "That's astounding," said Deborah. "Extraordinary." "Did you tell him straightaway?" her mother asked.
"Of course not. Good God, I've not even recovered from the shock myself." "But Maggie went to the bank with you. He saw her. Didn't he recognize his
own child?"
Lucy gave a pained smile. "He mistook her for a boy until I introduced them. Then he—" She considered his gentle, indulgent manner with Maggie. "He was lovely to her. Sent her off to beg candy from his assistant. It's been almost five years. Maggie's changed from a towheaded baby into a young girl. Can any of us say for sure we'd recognize her, under the circumstances?"
"And you're certain she's the one?" Kathleen asked after a pause.
"Completely. The photograph was more than enough to convince me. It was Maggie, down to the last eyelash, and she was even clutching the baby blanket she had when I saved her. Add to that the Sterling House connection, and the scene is com...complete." She stumbled over the word and was ashamed to feel tears burning in her eyes. Determinedly she blinked until they went away.
In contrast, Viola was an unrepentant leaky spigot. She saturated both her
handkerchiefs as she wept. "This is a disaster." "Or a miracle," Patience said.
"What if this encounter was supposed to happen?" Kathleen asked. "It could be an act of fate, or a preordained event."
"What if it's a blessing in disguise?" Deborah ventured. "The Lord's work," Patience murmured.
"How can it be?" Viola asked. "What possible good can come of this?"
Lucy stared down at the table. "I have no idea. I am trying to keep an open mind."
"Maggie is ours. It's too late for anyone else to claim her. Isn't there a statute of limitations on this sort of thing?"
"I doubt it, Mother."
"Those people are strangers to her."
"They are her parents, who gave her life," Patience pointed out.
"Why the devil didn't they move heaven and earth to find the poor mite?" Kathleen asked. "Lord knows you posted notices in every
"Something extraordinary has occurred." She looked around the table at each
of her friends and then at her mother. "I have found Maggie's parents."
The silence was as absolute as eternal damnation. Everyone sat completely still. Lucy fancied she could hear her own heart beating.
Then, with a clacking of cups and saucers set down in astonishment, everyone began talking at once. "How can you be sure?" "Who are they?" "Why didn't they find her after the fire?" "What will you do now?"
Lucy waited for the noise to subside. A thick heat filled her throat and she feared she might cry. But Lucy never cried. She was the Colonel's daughter, and she would keep control.
"I realized the truth," she explained, "when I was in Mr. Randolph Higgins's office at the bank." Her listeners sat stone-still, staring in amazement. After five years, Lucy had discovered the solution to a haunting mystery. All of them had wondered from time to time where Maggie had come from, and now they were about to find out.
"As we were discussing the loan, I learned that he and his wife had lost a child in the fire." She flushed, remembering her blunt questions and how callous they had seemed in light of what she'd learned about Mr. Higgins. She thought of his scars, his rigid self-control as he'd spoken to her of the tragedy. "I offered my condolences, but tho*ight no more of it until I saw, on his desk, a five-year-old photograph of his child." With a shaking hand, she held up her own baby picture of Maggie. "It was my Maggie. He said the baby in the photograph was his daughter, Christine, who was killed along with her nursemaid in the collapse of the Sterling House Hotel."
Another long, shocked silence greeted the revelation. "That's astounding," said Deborah. "Extraordinary." "Did you tell him straightaway?" her mother asked.
"Of course not. Good God, I've not even recovered from the shock myself." "But Maggie went to the bank with you. He saw her. Didn't he recognize his
own child?"
Lucy gave a pained smile. "He mistook her for a boy until I introduced them. Then he—" She considered his gentle, indulgent manner with Maggie. "He was lovely to her. Sent her off to beg candy from his assistant. It's been almost five years. Maggie's changed from a towheaded baby into a young girl. Can any of us say for sure we'd recognize her, under the circumstances?"
"And you're certain she's the one?" Kathleen asked after a pause.
"Completely. The photograph was more than enough to convince me. It was Maggie, down to the last eyelash, and she was even clutching the baby blanket she had when I saved her. Add to that the Sterling House connection, and the scene is com...complete." She stumbled over the word and was ashamed to feel tears burning in her eyes. Determinedly she blinked until they went away.
In contrast, Viola was an unrepentant leaky spigot. She saturated both her
handkerchiefs as she wept. "This is a disaster." "Or a miracle," Patience said.
"What if this encounter was supposed to happen?" Kathleen asked. "It could be an act of fate, or a preordained event."
"What if it's a blessing in disguise?" Deborah ventured. "The Lord's work," Patience murmured.
"How can it be?" Viola asked. "What possible good can come of this?"
Lucy stared down at the table. "I have no idea. I am trying to keep an open mind."
"Maggie is ours. It's too late for anyone else to claim her. Isn't there a statute of limitations on this sort of thing?"
"I doubt it, Mother."
"Those people are strangers to her."
"They are her parents, who gave her life," Patience pointed out.
"Why the devil didn't they move heaven and earth to find the poor mite?" Kathleen asked. "Lord knows you posted notices in every
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