Eli started to return the letter to his folder.
“Go on,” Chelsea urged. “This is important.” Reluctantly, Eli handed the letter to Mike.
Slowly, Mike took the single sheet of paper from the envelope and read it. It was handwritten, not typed. To Mike’s knowledge, Frank had not handwritten anything since he’d left his university.
My dear Eli,
I was so glad to receive your last letter. Your new theories on artificial intelligence sound magnificent. Yes, I’ll have someone check what’s already been done.
One of my brother’s wives had a baby, a little girl, with cheeks as red as roses. I set up a trust fund for her but told no one.
I’m glad you liked your birthday present, and I’ll wear the cuff links you sent me next time I see the president.
How are Chelsea and your mother? Let me know if your dad ever again refuses to pay child support. I know a few legal people and I also know a few thugs. Any man who isn’t grateful to have a son like you deserves to be taught a lesson.
My love and friendship to you,
Frank
Mike had to read the letter three times, and even though he was sure it was from his brother, he couldn’t believe it. When one of his siblings produced yet another child, Frank’s only comment was “Don’t any of you ever stop?” Yet here he was saying his brother’s new baby had cheeks like roses—which she did.
Mike carefully refolded the letter and inserted it back into the envelope. Eli nearly snatched it from his hands.
“Eli wants his mother to meet Mr. Frank Taggert in a place where they will be equal,” Chelsea said. “She’s a nurse, and we know Mr. Taggert’s been injured, so we thought she could go to this cabin in the mountains where he’s stayin
g. But we can’t find where it is so we can send her there.”
Mike was having difficulty believing what she was saying. He looked at his watch. “I’m to meet my wife for lunch in ten minutes. Would you two like to join us?”
Forty-five minutes later, with the help of his wife, Samantha, Mike finally understood the whole story. And more importantly, he’d figured out who Eli reminded him of. Eli was like Frank: cool exterior, intense eyes, brilliant brain, obsessive personality.
As Mike listened, he was somewhat hurt and annoyed that his elder brother had chosen a stranger’s child to love. But at least Frank’s love for Eli proved he could love.
“I think it’s all wonderfully romantic,” Samantha said.
“I think the poor woman’s going to meet Frank and be horrified,” Mike muttered, but when Samantha kicked him under the table, he shut up.
“So how do we arrange this?” Samantha asked. “And what size dress does your mother wear?”
“Twelve petite,” Chelsea said. “She’s short and f—” She didn’t have to turn to feel Eli’s glare. He wasn’t saying much, and she knew that it was because he was hostile toward Mike. “She’s, ah, round,” Chelsea finished.
“I understand,” Samantha said, getting a little notebook from her handbag.
“What difference does her dress size make?” Mike asked.
Chelsea and Samantha looked at him as though he were stupid. “She can’t very well arrive at the cabin wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, now can she? Chelsea, shall we go buy some cashmere?”
“Cashmere?!” Eli and Mike said in unison, and it made a bond between them: men versus women.
Samantha ignored her husband’s outburst. “Mike, you can write a letter to Mrs. Harcourt saying—”
“Stowe,” Eli said. “My father’s new wife wanted my mother to resume her maiden name, so she did.”
At that Samantha gave Mike a hard look, and he knew that all sense of proportion was lost. From now on, anything Eli and Chelsea wanted, they’d get.
2
Gratefully, Miranda got off the horse and went into the cabin. In the last few days, things had happened so quickly that she’d had no time to think about them. Yesterday afternoon a man had come to the hospital and asked if she’d please accept a private, live-in nursing job for his client. It was to start the next morning and would last for two weeks. At first she started to say no, that she couldn’t ask the hospital to let her off. But it seemed that her absence had already been cleared with the chief of staff—a man Miranda had never seen, much less met.