Page 213 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“You could have handled the estate with great skill and dedication, Max. But you’re not my own flesh and blood.”

“Molly is,” he reminded her. His chest felt tight.

“She is,” Gram agreed. “And I love her dearly, you know that. But I must do what’s right, and I think this is the right thing for all of us.”

“Why are we even talking about it?” Becca asked. “You’re going to live many more years, Gram. We won’t have to worry about this for a long time. By then Molly may be grown up, and you can leave it to her.”

“I know you’d all like to think I’m invincible, but these past few months have clearly shown me how fleeting life really is,” Gram said. “I hope to be around to dangle great-grandchildren on my knee, but I’m nearly seventy. And days like today I feel every minute of that time.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Becca went to her grandmother and knelt by her chair.

Gram smiled and patted her face. “See what I mean? You have a heart that yearns to help, Becca. That’s a rare thing. You’ll care for Windigo Manor.” Her hand dropped to her side, and she stood. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Remember I love you all, and no one will be left out of the will. You’ll all have your share.” She patted Becca’s head then left the living room.

Becca slowly rose then sat in Gram’s vacated chair. “I suppose you all hate me now,” she said.

Max watched her as her lips trembled. She was a good actress. Really good. Even Tate seemed taken in by her.

Tate’s face softened as he watched her, and he leaned forward. “Hey, if it can’t come to me, I’m glad it’s you, Becca. And you’ll never toss me out on my ear, right?”

Becca smiled. “Of course not, Tate. We’re family.” She pushed her hair away from her face. “Oh why are we talking like this anyway? Gram is going to live a long, long time. And I’m going to prove I’m Becca Baxter, daughter of Mason and not Will.”

“I don’t see how you can prove that,” Max said. “You heard Gram. She’s convinced. With all parties concerned dead, there will be no proof.”

Becca paled further and she looked down at her hands. “I can try,” she whispered.

“Well, I for one, think Gram made a good choice,” Shayna said.

Max glanced at her in surprise. He’d thought she would raise more of a fuss than that.

Shayna saw his expression. “What, you think I can’t see Becca is real quality? I admit I was angry for a few minutes, but there is plenty of money to around. I’m convinced she’s not lying now.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “You thought I would lie about that?”

“You lied once,” she pointed out.

Becca’s lips tightened. “And I confessed. I could have kept my mouth shut.”

“Gram was sure to leak it as soon as you told her.” He thrust his hands in his jean pockets.

“She recognized me!”

“I’m not doubting you’re who you say you are. I saw your I.D. Though I guess you could have forged that.”

“I didn’t forge anything. I’m telling the truth.”

“So you say.” He wasn’t sure why he was goading her like this. He didn’t doubt she was really Rebecca Baxter. The truth was obvious. Now. But he didn’t like being lied to.

She swallowed and looked away. He didn’t know why he liked looking at her so much. She was striking in a way that madeit hard to ignore her the way he wanted. High cheekbones and a riveting smile.

“Lay off her, Max,” Shayna said sharply. “You can make someone bleed with that tongue of yours. She’s entitled to Gram’s estate. More so than the rest of us.”

“I can’t take any more of this. I’m just going to bed.” Becca got up and went toward the doorway to the entry.

Max knew he should apologize. Gram could leave her money to anyone she wanted. But the words stuck in his throat. Becca’s coming had robbed his daughter. It would be hard to forgive her for that.

Becca wasn’t cryingby the time she got to her room. She was mad, furious in fact. She hadn’t asked for any of this. All she wanted was to find out what really happened to her parents. Now here she was, not even sure who her father really was, hated by the rest of the family, regarded as a traitor by a man she was beginning to suspect she could love.

“I hate this, Lord,” she said petulantly. She grabbed a pillow from the bed and clutched it to her chest before sinking on the floor. “None of this has turned out like I thought it would.”

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