An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

mind since Glenn had given her the news that morning. She reached for her phone and speed-dialed her mother’s number.

Maggie answered the phone with a cheerful, “Hi, Nat. I was just thinking about you.”

“And here I am. What’s up?”

“No, you called me. You first.” In the background, classical music was playing. Natalie pictured her mother in the sunroom, a cup of coffee in one hand, the book she’d been reading facedown on her lap.

“Do you remember Dad talking about setting aside some money to establish a few scholarships at local colleges?”

“Of course. You were in on those discussions. You know he very much believed in paying it forward. He’d gotten his entire education through scholarships.” Maggie paused. “What’s the real question?”

“Did he ever actually do it? Set money aside for needy students?” Natalie stared out the windshield as light flakes began to sail by on the wind that continued to pick up.

Her mother was slow to answer. Finally, she said, “I’m not sure.”

Natalie laughed out loud. “Mom, how can you not be sure? You know where every penny of Dad’s estate went.”

“I know what your father’s intent was. I just don’t know . . . Let me talk to Alvin and get back to you.” Alvin had handled the firm’s finances for the past twenty-five years. “Or did you need an answer right now?”

“Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

Maggie sighed. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why the sudden interest?”

“There’s a student here—a terrific student, a great girl with tons of potential. One of those kids who had a rough start in life but is working her ass off to make it. I just heard she’s dropping out of school because she’s out of money. Mom, she already has two jobs. I thought if Dad had followed through . . .” It was Natalie’s turn to sigh. “I know we’d talked about it several times, but I couldn’t remember if he’d actually done it.”

“So we’re talking about one student? For the rest of the year?” Natalie could almost hear the wheels turning in her mother’s head. “But then what happens after next year? Won’t she be transferring to a four-year college once she graduates from community?”

“That would be the hope.”

“Let me look into a few things. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks, Mom. And . . . well, thanks.”

“You’re most welcome. This is exactly the sort of thing your father wanted to do—the sort of kid he’d wanted to help.” Maggie hung up, and Natalie was certain she’d heard a tear in her mother’s voice.

It wasn’t until she’d picked up Daisy from day care that she realized she’d forgotten to ask her mother if she’d be available tomorrow night to babysit. She still hadn’t decided if she’d wanted to go on that date, though she did need to make a decision.

The storm that kicked up later that evening made Natalie’s decision for her. By morning, there was over a foot of snow outside the first-floor window of her apartment, and according to the forecast, more snow was on the way. She sent Glenn a text declining his invitation—Roads impassable here. Thank you—maybe another time—and settled in for the first snow day of the winter. With Daisy happily playing day care with her stuffed animals, Natalie snuggled into a deep armchair, her laptop in hand. With a click of the remote, the gas fireplace came to life. Whoever had invented such a thing—fire at the touch of a button!—should be in the inventors’ Hall of Fame, if there was such a thing. Warm and comfortable, her daughter chatting merrily with her friends, Natalie turned on the laptop. After reading and responding to several emails related to work, she switched to the genealogy site where she’d sent her DNA several months earlier.

The stories her father had told about his great-aunt Lola Barnes had run the gamut. After she’d run away from home at fifteen—this much they knew to be true—the stories became muddled. Depending on who in Art’s family was telling the story, Lola’d gone to Chicago and become a stage actress. She’d moved out west and run a brothel. She’d been one of the first women to play professional baseball. Maybe all of the above. Maybe none of the above. Natalie was no closer now to finding the truth than she’d been when she’d first started, but she was finding the search to be fascinating.

The first thing Natalie noticed when she signed on was that a message had been left on her account page. She clicked on the mail symbol, hoping for news about one of the relatives she was researching. She skimmed the text once before reading it through from the start, then twice more. Someone had obviously gotten a bogus DNA result. That, she thought, or someone was trying to run some sort of scam. She read the message once more before deleting it.

Hi—

I’ve been trying for weeks now to find a clever way to write this—but it seems I’m just not as clever as I thought, so I’ll just put it out there. My name is Joe Miller and I think I’m your half brother. Actually, according to the DNA results, I’m pretty positive I am. Unless someone has told you more than anyone’s ever told me—except that I’m adopted, which I always knew—this could be a shock to you, and while I’m sorry to be the bearer, as the only child of parents who are now deceased, finding someone who shares my history in any form would be amazing. Hearing from you would mean the world to me. I always wanted a sister.

It has to be a hoax, Natalie told herself. Most definitely. Like I’d write back to some random person pretending to be related to me? A half brother, no less? Like I’d fall for that long-lost relative thing?

She snorted. “Yes, because I was born yesterday.”

Daisy looked up from the book she was reading to her favorite stuffie, Elle E. Fant. “Mommy, you were born in the summer. Nana said so.”

“So