Page 39 of The Princess Home for Christmas

“Talk to me. The father.”

“It’s not you.”

He groaned. “I know, Theresa. Who is it?”

“Promise you won’t judge me?”

“No more than I already do.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Come on, that was a joke.”

After a few seconds silence, she said, their father doesn’t know anything about this. I haven’t heard from him since the one night, and I honestly don’t even know if he’s alive.”

“Why would he be dead?” Thomas hoped he was not some kind of crime boss or something.

“Look, he was a hero, a real decent guy. The best guy to come into my life, except you, but you weren’t there to sweep me off my feet, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, so, was this guy?”

“He was a soldier, stationed in Afghanistan, on leave for one week. We met at a bar, had the best night of my life, he left, and I haven’t heard from him since. I was on a break from Donald at the time and we got back together a month later. There’s a chance it’s Donald; we could say it’s Donald, but I know it’s not; Joe has my soldier’s eyes.”

Thomas groaned. “Can I get his name? Where he’s from?” What was he going to do with this information?

“I’ll text you. He left me his tags. I’ll take a picture of those too.”

“Has he ever tried to reach you?”

“I don’t know. I changed phone numbers, moved to a new part of town. He could have.” She paused. “Look, I was embarrassed, didn’t want to deliver such life changing news to a stranger, didn’t know if I wanted him around, you know?”

Thomas didn’t know, but he could imagine. “Ok, I’ll look into this. What do you want me to say to Donald?”

“Tell him you don’t know anything about it,”

“What if he’s trying to take the kids back, thinking they’re his?”

“Why would he do that? He’s known about Joe his whole life. And he’s done nothing until now.”

“Send me that text.” Thomas hung up. A few seconds later his phone beeped with a name. He sent it on to Lucan. Then he directed his pilot to land on the top of the police station on their helipad. If only they could find a decent guy to step into her life, to take care of the children. The father of the girls was out of the question. He was gone shortly after Stefani was born. And no one had liked him much. Never worked, never showed any kindness to the girls, seemed to resent Joe. Thomas sighed. His father’s careless behavior and negligence toward his daughter had created generational problems.

When they invited him into the police officer’s office, a man he assumed was Donald gave him bad vibes immediately, regular willies like he used to get as a child. This man seemed as greasy as they come, all smiles and venom oozing out of a power hungry mouth.

They shook hands, Donald’s clammy grip leaving an impression long after their palms parted.

Thomas sat down. “So, what can I do for you, officer? Mr. Frugalo?”

The police officer shuffled his papers for a moment then he looked Thomas in the eye and said, “Mr. Frugalo has come forward with a claim on the children of Theresa Frenchy.”

“What sort of claim?”

“Familial. He says he’s Joe’s father.”

Thomas nodded slowly, as if considering the idea. He did not want those children with this greasy man. “Did he just now come to this realization?”

Mr. Frugalo shifted in his seat. “Straight to the accusation.”

“No accusation. I’m just surprised at the sudden jog in your memory? Was it a turn of conscience?”

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