The Secret Sister by Brenda Novak Page B

even kept any of the pictures of him and Ellie and, much as Maisey was tempted when she got rid of his other stuff, she hadn’t been able to make herself throw them out. They were in a box marked Attic, and had been sent, along with Ellie’s other pictures, to Coldiron House, where they’d stay until Maisey could bear to reclaim them.
    If that day ever came...
    She chastised herself for being so rude as to poke around. She’d told herself she wouldn’t. It felt like an invasion of Rafe’s privacy just to see this photograph because it laid his heart so bare.
    With a final glance, Maisey left Laney’s room, locked the house behind her and hurried over to her own bungalow. She was intent on finding her phone.
    She could hear it ringing as she came through the door.
    Was it Keith? Finally? Or Josephine?
    Maisey doubted her mother would lower her pride and try to make amends. Still, Maisey ached for that olive branch, for Josephine to show enough love and concern to forget how wronged she felt and, just once, let the past go without forcing Maisey to assume all the blame. The little contact they’d had since Maisey left Fairham had been her doing. She’d never forget how cold and uninterested her mother had acted when she received news of Maisey’s pregnancy—and that didn’t change when Ellie was born. The morning Ellie died, her mother had been the last person Maisey had wanted to speak to. She’d instinctively worried that Josephine would make her feel as if she deserved what she’d gotten. And yet she’d needed her mother that day. So she’d swallowed her own pride and, out of the depths of her despair, called Coldiron House.
    That unforgiving reception had cut the deepest. She couldn’t reach out afterward. She didn’t have the emotional fortitude it required. But she’d have to now, to ask for a truck so she could move some furniture.
    Surely she could approach her mother for something as simple as that. And if it was Josephine on the phone, she’d have her chance.
    The call wasn’t from anyone she might’ve expected, though.
    Maisey felt her jaw drop as she recognized the number. She’d deleted this person from her contacts list, so there was no name attached. But she recognized those ten digits more quickly than she would’ve recognized the number attached to her own phone.
    It was Jack.

8
    M aisey told herself not to answer it. She had nothing to say to her ex, especially after she’d acted so inappropriately with a man who was nearly a stranger to her. Considering how long she’d yearned for Jack to regret tossing her aside, to want her back, it was quite the coincidence that he was calling her now . What could he possibly want?
    When the call went to voice mail, she waited to see if he’d leave a message. If he had a legitimate reason to get in touch, wouldn’t he say so? It could be that some stock or other asset he’d failed to list on their separation agreement had sold and, instead of keeping all the proceeds for himself, he’d decided to do the right thing and pay her half. But considering how hard he’d fought for every dime, including some of the proceeds of her books, it was more likely that he’d heard she’d left Manhattan and wanted to find out what she’d done with his personal belongings. When he moved out, he took only what he could carry that day and had never come back for the rest. Was there something he still wanted?
    If so, it was too late to recover anything except the pictures she’d saved in the dark attic of Coldiron House. She’d hawked her wedding ring and donated what he’d left behind to Goodwill. She’d figured the move was the perfect time to get rid of each and every item that reminded her of the man she’d loved so deeply, because they now reminded her of the day she’d gone to Chicago to surprise him on his business trip and