Page 35 of Mistletoe & Mischief

He couldn’t help but feel Rainey was planning something. But he couldn’t begin to fathom what that could be.

* * *

When Brad reached the Albright mansion that evening, Maya opened the door, her face marred with shock. “Brad!” she whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

Brad hurried inside, closed the door behind him, and followed Maya to the library, where a fire crackled, casting long shadows along the shelves. Maya passed him a very old folder, her hand shaking.

“I found this on one of the bookshelves,” she said. “It was lodged between two old photo albums. I don’t think anyone’s seen it in fifty years.”

Brad opened the folder to find a yellowed Certificate of Adoption dated 1971. The birth mother was listed as Bethany Albright. The daughter she’d given up for adoption was unnamed.

“The baby in the photograph,” Brad whispered.

Maya rubbed her eyes and collapsed against him. Brad set the folder to the side and wrapped his arms around her. This news was far heavier than any heirloom. It meant Maya had a sister; it meant the Albright family, despite their tremendous wealth, had given up that sister.

“I have so many questions,” Maya whispered. “I can’t wrap my mind around any of it.”

Brad kissed the top of her head, trying to stabilize her. But what could he possibly say?

“My mother was sixteen when she was born,” Maya went on, as though listing the facts of the matter helped. “And she was twenty when I was born. Twenty-six when she died.” She rubbed her temples. “I just can’t understand why she find her daughter when she got together with my father. They were starting a real family— but she already had a child somewhere.”

“Maybe she tried,” Brad suggested. “There’s no record of that in this folder. Maybe there’s no record of that anywhere.”

Brad hated to tell her that some things were lost to time. But it was true.

Maya’s chin quivered. “All my life, I felt so alone. But she was out there.” Maya reached for the photograph of her mother and sister, taken in 1971, and held it up to the light. After another pause, she said, “Aunt Veronica must know. Maybe it’s part of the reason she brought me here in the first place. She wanted me to know about my sister. About what happened.” Maya furrowed her brow. “This inheritance is also her inheritance. We were both robbed of Albright's wealth. We were both kicked to the curb. Why am I here in this mansion without her?”

Brad was at a loss. He recognized the kindness in Maya’s mission— but he had no idea how to help her. All he could do was wrap his arms around her tighter.

“As soon as Veronica is better, we’ll go to the nursing home,” Brad assured her. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Maya nodded, although her eyes glinted with fear.

Eventually, Brad went to the kitchen to cook something. Maya remained by the fire, lost in thought, and Brad was bent on cooking something that would bring her out of her sorrow. But as he sliced and diced vegetables, he was fidgety with nerves. Maya’s ex was a chef. Brad could not compete with that! On his phone, he pulled up “the very best recipe” for chicken cacciatore, and he followed the instructions painstakingly. He was so focused that he hardly noticed time passing.

When he finished, he carried the plates back to the library. Normally, he thought food should be eaten at the table, but tonight was strange and, therefore, special. Plus, if Maya ate on the couch, maybe she wouldn’t notice how subpar his cooking was.

“I know you’re a foodie,” Brad said. “I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Maya spun some noodles onto her fork, closed her eyes, chewed, and swallowed. Brad watched her, captivated until she opened her eyes again and gazed at him with longing.

“This is extraordinary, Brad,” she said.

Brad’s heart lifted. “You’re lying. Right?”

“No!” Maya laughed at herself, and the tension in the room loosened. “I would never lie about food. This is sensational. Really.” She squeezed his hand. “You know that the way to my heart is through my stomach.”

Brad scooped some chicken cacciatore onto his fork and took a bite. Immediately, a tremendous wave of flavor came over him, and he gasped with surprise. He’d never managed to make something quite this special before.

“I never knew what I was missing before,” Brad said. “When you actually care about what you cook in the kitchen, you can make beautiful things.”

“Let’s keep making beautiful things in the kitchen,” Maya said dreamily.

“I can’t wait.”

ChapterFifteen

Maya heard Brad’s alarm clock at six the next morning, turned over in bed, and swallowed him in a warm hug, nuzzling his chest. He groaned and turned off his alarm. “I don’t feel like running today,” he announced. “Then don’t!” Maya said with a laugh. “Stay here with me.”

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