Page 60 of Just My Luck

“There’s not,” I grumbled.

My sister turned toward the door. “If you say so. Find a different server. I’m stealing her.”

With a dismissive wave I watched my sister walk away. Behind my desk, I sighed, but couldn’t help the small tug at the corner of my mouth as I thought of Sylvie and Sloane having a fun afternoon on my dime.

Thankfully, the afternoon was slow, and the only impact of Sloane’s absence was my crappy mood. Somewhere along the way I started to half enjoy her quippy one-liners and witty banter. Without it, the brewery felt like it was all business. It lacked her sunshine and warmth.

Rather than call someone in for her, I covered her shift myself. Forcing myself out from behind the bar, I took orders, bused tables, and genuinely tried to not scare anyone off by my mere presence, of which I was marginally successful.

When my phone buzzed in my pocket and the name John Cannon flashed across the screen, I slipped into a nearby storeroom closet to take the call.

“This is Abel.”

“Abel. John Cannon. Do you have a minute?” John Cannon was a man I had hired to look into the disappearance of my mother. My siblings and I had had too many unanswered questions after my brother Whip and Bug had discovered a discarded box of her belongings. The mystery only deepened when John uncovered that there was no record of Maryann King after she left.

Nothing at all.

Unease rolled over me. “I do. What do you have for me?”

“Well.” John sighed. “I don’t think you’re going to like this.” He huffed a breath. “Shit, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

My stomach twisted. “Just say it.”

“There is still no paper trail for a Maryann King. I haven’t given up, but it’s looking like a dead end. I’m looking into her extended family and seeing if there are any contacts willing to confirm she’d possibly changed her identity.”

I nodded. “That seems reasonable.”

John exhaled. “Well, that’s not the news. Abel, there is no marriage certificate for Russell and Maryann King. There is, however, a certificate of marriage for Russell King to a woman named Elizabeth Peake.”

My mind raced and struggled to succinctly connect the dots. “So what are you saying? Are you telling me that my father cheated on my mother and then married his mistress?”

“No, Abel,” John continued carefully. “The marriage of Russell and Elizabeth is dated before the acknowledged marriage of him and Maryann. What I am saying is that it seems likely that your motherwasthe mistress.”

The small closet closed around me. A whoosh of blood between my ears was deafening. “That’s impossible. My parents were married, and it was no secret. They had six kids together.”

John sighed. “I understand, and I’m looking into it. Unfortunately, having a second family isn’t something that?—”

“Whoa, wait. What?” I interrupted. “Second family? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, that’s the other piece I uncovered. Russell and Elizabeth have children.”

My knees wobbled. If what John was saying was true, my father was not only unfaithful to my mother, but he had a whole different family our entire lives.

Memories of long business trips, absent weekends, and flippant remarks throughout the years flashed through my mind.

How was this possible? How could we have not known?

My throat was tight. “Thanks, John. I—I have to process this.”

“I understand. Do you want me to keep digging or is this enough?” he asked.

Anger churned. “No. Find out everything about this other family... and don’t stop looking for my mother.”

“You got it.” John ended the call and I stared into nothingness.

For nearly thirty-six years, the life I had known was a lie. Knowing my father the way I did, it was easy to believe he was capable of this. Everything in his life was constructed around optics—being the best, looking as though you have it all. It wasn’t a stretch to think he’d carefully crafted that life in order to feed his own ego.

My mother leaving him would have been a devastating blow to that ego. Dread pulled at my insides.

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