“Great! Dad knows the people who run the Garrett Historical Society. With this lockdown, the town is closed, but they said that for Henry, they’d let you visit. Every building will be open. You and Max will have the whole town to yourselves. Dad said you can even spend the night there in a hotel.”

“Uh...” She didn’t know what to say to that.

Ben grew serious. “You needn’t worry about Max. He won’t overstep. Uh-oh. The doctor’s here, I have to go.”

“Text me,” Etta said quickly. “And send photos.”

“Will do,” Ben said, then ended the call.

Etta put her suitcase on the floor and went to bed early. It had been an exhausting day. Way too much information had been heaped onto her.

Part of her wanted to figure it all out but another part thought it was too much to comprehend. She was trying not to feel betrayed by Henry for not telling her about his other son, but she couldn’t do it.

Then there was her father. As soon as Etta left the house, he sold it. Had he been hoping that she’d leave? And Lester. He hadn’t even called to tell her his decision.

She got into bed and opened her laptop. There was something she wanted to check. She typed in Kecklin, Kansas. It came up empty. There was no such place and she was pleased.

She opened the only entry for Kecklin and saw that it was a bio for Miss Bella Kecklin.The woman who made the museum,Etta thought.

Miss Kecklin had married Ralph Pence, a prominent businessman, and they’d two children. The bio said that Mrs. Pence’s ancestor was John Kecklin, who was known for contributing heavily to the beautiful church in Garrett, Kansas. Mrs. Pence had been involved in the restoration of the town and was now on its board of directors. “She is a highly valued woman,” the article said.

Etta closed her computer. “At least we accomplished something,” she said, then turned out the light and snuggled down. Tomorrow she would see the church and the town. And Max. She went to sleep.

24

Etta woke to the smell of coffee and to the feeling that the house was no longer empty. She got up, showered, dressed, and went downstairs. She glanced inside rooms but no one was there. In the kitchen, the coffeepot was full and there was an old canvas bag on the tall table.

Slowly, anticipating but also dreading what she’d see, she turned to look through the glass doors to the outside. Sitting on a chair, his feet propped on another one, was Max. He held a sketchbook and pencil and was drawing something.

Right away, she saw that although he looked like her Max, it wasn’t him. He was a bit taller, heavier, and older than the man she loved. She’d never asked Max his age because she knew he was younger than she was. But this man was a bit older than she was. He was in profile, showing skin that had seen a lot of sun and wind, and probably some hardship. He was a handsome man, like a model you’d see in a travel brochure.Come on safari with us, it would say.

She glanced down at the bag on the counter. It was old and worn, like something in a Ralph Lauren ad. On top was a little red photo album. It was open to a picture of Max holding his newborn niece. He looked very happy.

She knew she shouldn’t but she flipped the pages. The pictures were from all over the world. Max was with people and animals in India, China, Africa. There were two photos of a beautiful, tall, thin blonde young woman. One of them was signed,With all my love, Mandy.

She put the album back to the way it was. There were no signs that he’d cooked anything, so she whipped up a couple of breakfast platters, put them and drinks on a tray, and went to the door. Her hands were full, so she knocked on the glass with her elbow.

Max looked up, smiled, stood, and opened the door for her. “This is a treat,” he said.

It was her Max’s voice. If they were standing side by side, they’d be considered brothers, with just age separating them.

But for all the resemblance, the eyes weren’t the same. Maybe the two men were physically alike, but they looked at Etta differently. This man didn’t have her Max’s look, the one that said though he didn’t know what to make of Etta, he was very interested.

Most important was that she felt no attraction to this man. She had no desire to throw her arms around him and certainly not to rip his clothes off. “I figured that if you’re like your father, you’re hungry.”

He gave a little laugh, a sound she’d heard many times. They sat down across from each other and began to eat.

“Do you mind?” She nodded to his sketchbook.

“Not at all.”

It was a black-and-white drawing of the corner of the house with roses on the wall. Quite sweet, but somehow a bit sad.

She looked at him in question. Though there was no sexual tension between them, she felt that she knew him. Like a brother she hadn’t seen in a while. She knew he had intentionally made the drawing look like a memory.

He understood. “Caro has family outside Denver, so they want their kids to grow up near their grandparents.”

“Henry is a grandfather.” She sounded defensive.