A Wish For Love (Gates-Cameron 2)

“Just curiosity,” Bailey replied, inwardly cringing at the lie. She just couldn’t tell Aunt Mae everything. Not yet. Not until she knew exactly what was going on. She was terribly afraid she might start crying if she did—and if that happened, she wasn’t at all sure she would be able to stop.

“I remember that there weren’t any photographs with the article,” she said, looking at her hands to avoid her aunt’s eyes. “Couldn’t Mark find any pictures of the twins?”

She sensed her aunt’s sudden stillness. “Photographs?” Mae repeated. “Um, no, there weren’t any photographs available to him.”

“So no photos of them survived?”

Aunt Mae hesitated so long that Bailey looked up. She could see her aunt’s indecision, and felt a surge of hope. Aunt Mae would never lie to her.

“Well, yes, there is one photograph,” Mae answered finally. “I found it in the attic just after Dean and I moved in. Dean didn’t want it used in the article—I suppose he was afraid something might happen to it in the process. Or something like that,” she added.

Mae had never been good at prevarication.

“I would love to see it,” Bailey said, trying to sound casual. “Do you know where Dean keeps it?”

Mae nodded reluctantly.

“It’s in his room. You should ask him to show it to you when he and Anna get back.”

“I don’t think he’d mind if I look at it now, do you?” Bailey asked, standing.

“I don’t know, Bailey. It doesn’t seem right for you to go rummaging through his things when he’s away. Why don’t we at least wait for him to call so you can ask his permission?”

“Heavens, Aunt Mae, Dean and I have never been so formal. He knows I won’t snoop through his personal stuff. I just want to see the photo. You know how I am about old photographs and other mementos of the past.”

Mae twisted her fingers, and the dagger of guilt twisted more deeply into Bailey’s stomach. She felt terrible about putting her sweet aunt on the spot like this, but she had to see that photograph. She simply had to.

“All right,” Mae said at.last. “You can get the key from the front desk. The photograph is in the drawer of the nightstand on the left of the bed. I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating. The twins are standing in front of the inn. You’ll, er, you’ll notice that Anna bears a striking resemblance to her cousins. Strong family genes, I suppose.”

“How interesting,” Bailey murmured, already moving toward the doorway.

She paused before leaving the room, and turned back to face her aunt. “Aunt Mae—thank you.”

Mae nodded, still looking troubled. “Lock up when you leave your brother’s room.”

“I will.”

“And Bailey?”

“Yes?”

“You will tell me why this is so important to you later, won’t you?”

“You have my word,” Bailey answered sincerely.

Whatever happened, Aunt Mae would know the truth, she decided. The woman had taken in an orphaned little girl and raised her with love and patience and trust. She deserved better than the manipulations Bailey had just put her through.

BAILEY HELD her breath as she set her hand on the brass knob of the Chippendale nightstand in the bedroom Dean and Anna shared. Her hand was shaking so hard she had difficulty opening the drawer.

She saw the framed photograph immediately, but it took her a moment to pick it up. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she hoped to learn from it.

She picked it up slowly. A moment later, she sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

From within the black-and-white photograph, Bran’s face swam in her tear-blurred vision. His somber dark eyes were the same, and the arrogant tilt to his chin— even the way he wore his hair, longish on top and back, neat sideburns edging his firm cheeks. He looked no different in this seventy-plus-year-old photograph than when she’d seen him less than an hour ago.

She had only to glance at the woman beside him in the photograph to know that it was Anna. There could be no mistaking the lovely oval face, the glittering dark eyes, the impish, challenging smile.

Family resemblance? No. This was Anna, and Aunt Mae probably knew it—or at least suspected it. No wonder she’d tried to steer Bailey away from the photograph.