The High Price of Secrets

Tamsyn turned on her heel and nearly screamed when something brushed against her leg. The cat. Oh, God, her heart was racing. Living on her own, albeit with a resident feline, was going to take some getting used to.

The cat rubbed against her, twining in a figure eight between her legs and purring loudly before stalking toward a cupboard with its tail in the air. Sitting in front of the cupboard, it began to scratch.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Tamsyn said, hastening over.

She pushed the cat away from the door, but it determinedly moved back in front and began scratching again. Curious, and not a little fearful that perhaps there might be a mouse inside, she opened the cupboard. A sigh of relief flooded through her when she saw the bag of dried cat food sitting on the bottom shelf of what was obviously a pantry.

“You’re hungry, that’s what it is, isn’t it, Puss?”

She looked around for a bowl and spied a small plastic mat on the floor near a glass-paned door, an empty bowl and a water dish sitting side by side. The cat purred its obvious approval as she collected the empty dishes and rinsed them out at the kitchen sink before drying them and refilling them with cat biscuits and water.

“There you go,” she said, putting them back on the little mat and running her hand down the cat’s black furry back.

Feeling well-satisfied with herself, Tamsyn went back out to her car and grabbed her suitcase. This time, she turned to her right as she came back in. The bedrooms had to be down this way, she thought as she tried each door as she got to it. There were two bedrooms to choose from, one bathroom and one door that was locked. Tamsyn chose the smaller of the two bedrooms and unpacked her meager belongings. It was hardly worth the bother, she thought as she hung up the couple of things she’d bought and stuffed her small collection of underwear into a drawer. Compared with her walk-in closet at home, she had majorly downsized.

Home. Another wave of homesickness washed over her. She should call her brother, reassure him she was okay and tell him of her plans. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the quick dial for his mobile number.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to send out a search party for you,” he answered.

While there was a teasing note in his voice, Tamsyn could hear the underlying concern.

“I did say I’d call in few days. I’m fine, by the way,” she assured him. “Thanks for asking.”

“Ready to come home yet?”

“Not anywhere near it, Ethan. How are you managing without me?”

“We’re coping surprisingly well. Aunt Cynthia has really come into her own taking over for you, you’d be impressed.”

Tamsyn felt his words like a physical blow. Sure, she’d walked out on them, but couldn’t they have missed her—even just a little bit? Nobody had missed her, it seemed. She hadn’t even had so much as a text or email from Trent. Not that she wanted to hear from him, but they’d been engaged over a year and had gone out for several months before that. Surely she’d warranted something from him, some explanation, anything. She quashed the thought. She’d walked away from him and his lover, and everything associated with them. That was her choice, as was her mission to find her mother. It was time to stop looking back and to keep her sights firmly fixed on her new future.

Forcing a smile to her lips, she said, “Hey, can you check something for me?”

“Name it.”

“The address Mom’s checks are sent to—can you give that to me again?”

“Sure, just give me a minute to find the email,” her brother replied.

In the background she could hear him using his usual hunt-and-peck keyboard skills to pull up the information. She smiled to herself. Computers were a necessary evil in Ethan’s book—he’d much rather be blending his world-famous wines and watching over their production as if they were his children heading out to a first day at school. While he was busy, Tamsyn scrabbled in her handbag for a pen and notebook.

“Found it,” he said a moment later. He rattled off the address.

“That’s weird,” Tamsyn replied, chewing on the end of her pen. “That’s the address I went to on Saturday, but the man there said he hadn’t heard of Mom.”

“Let me check with Dad’s solicitor and get back to you. Could be someone made a mistake somewhere.”

Or it could be that someone was lying to her. The thought echoed around in her mind. Could Finn be deliberately keeping information about her mother from her? Surely not. What would be the point? It’s not as if he stood to gain anything by it.

“Okay, thanks. Send me a text or email when you know, okay? In the meantime, I’ve decided to take a short-term lease on a cottage here. I want to spend more time poking around, see if I can bump into anyone who might know her and how I can find her.”