Page 78 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

“No trouble at all,” Hannah said, leading the way into their home.

I followed the sisters past the formal dining room and into the sunny, welcoming kitchen. Hannah gestured for me to sit at the large round oak table, pulling out a chair for myself as she did so. Violet sat next to her.

“Olivia, the iced tea,” Hannah chided the second her sister’s bottom brushed the seat.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “No trouble at all.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. But when she filled my glass and placed it in front of me, her smile was friendly.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip.

She nodded and filled glasses for herself and her sisters. “Your Majesty,” she said, handing a glass to Hannah.

Hannah beamed a smile that I strongly suspected was intended to irritate her sister mightily. “Thank you, sugar.” She turned to me. “I was Miss North Carolina three years ago, a fact they love to remind me of. They’re so proud of me.”

“Eight years ago, wasn’t it?” Violet said innocently.

Hannah shot daggers at her with her green eyes.

I watched the sisters trade barbs and banter, fascinated, a queer little ache in my chest. I wanted that. The closeness. The knowledge of exactly how to throw a verbal punch so that it landed but didn’t leave a mark. Knowledge like that only came from years of squabbles and making up, from really knowing someone. It was intimacy. Family.

I blinked away the sudden wetness in my eyes and took a long swallow of iced tea, letting the cold, sugary drink shock my senses back to reality. I wasn’t going to cry. Whatever happened here, I was going to keep my dignity intact.

“So, Max,” Violet said. “You said you had information for us?”

“Right.” I set the manila folder with his DNA results on the table. Three pairs of green eyes looked at the folder and then bounced to my face. I cleared my throat. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m sorry if I do it wrong. I believe I’m related to you.”

A look passed between the sisters, indecipherable to me as an outsider.

“Related how?” Violet asked carefully.

“According to this—” I pushed the folder across the table to them “—my mom is your dad’s sister. We’re cousins.”

For a moment, there was silence. And then—

“I told you so!” Violet crowed. “I told you he wasn’t Dad’s love child.”

“Gross.” Hannah shuddered. “Never say that phrase again.” She leaned back in her chair. “Shit, I’m relieved.”

I blinked at the sudden loss of her Southern drawl. It was still there, but noticeably lightened.

“Damn.” Olivia sighed. “I was holding out hope that you had information on the Locklears. Like, something that would prove they swindled us.”

“Give it up, Olivia. It was two hundred years ago.” Violet jumped to her feet. “Hang on a minute.” She darted from the room.

“Well, it’s not the rightful restoration of Hart property, but this is pretty cool. I always wanted a cousin.” Olivia smiled at me. “It’s definitely better than finding out Dad had a secret family.”

“Dad was a truck driver,” Hannah explained. “So he was on the road a lot and gone for weeks at a time.”

“It’s not that we really suspected he would do such a thing—” Olivia broke in.

“But you never know with men, darlin’,” Hannah finished, her Southern drawl returning in full force.

“They’re in Florida now,” Olivia said. “Dad’s retired and Mom hates the winters here, so they spend most of the year down there. They’ll be back in May.”

I nodded. I had learned all this from local gossip.

“He’s going to get such a kick out of this,” Hannah said.

“Probably,” Violet said, returning to the kitchen, her arms laden with leather photo albums. “Hard to tell with Dad. He always wanted a son, so maybe a nephew would be close enough. But he never talked much about his sister—your mother—and I think that might be painful for him. How is she? Does she know you’re here?”

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