couldnât let her find out, not until he had all the information he needed.
âDid you see the letter from that TV station in Maine?â asked Sigrid, coming into the room. She was wearing a blue terry cloth bathrobe, drying her short blond hair with a towel. âI didnât open it. I thought it might be another job offer.â
A muscle twitched in his neck.
âSomething wrong?â asked Sigrid, standing over him. She let the towel drop to her shoulders.
âI glanced at the mail, but I didnât see it.â
âHere,â she said. She bent over the stack and found it for him.
âMaine, huh?â He worked to keep his hands steady as he opened it. After reading the letter, he handed it to her. âYou want to move to Bangor?â
âSounds better than Oklahoma. I hate hot weather.â
âAre you saying youâd actually consider moving out East?â It sounded like the end of the earth to him.
Sigrid rubbed the back of his hair with the towel. âI donât know, Peter.â
âLetâs not go there tonight, okay?â
âThere was another letter for you. I think the postmark was New Jersey.â
As she reached for the stack again, he caught her arm. âAndno more talking about my lack of employment, either. Letâs just have a nice, relaxing evening.â
Her expression softened. She sat down next to him, laid her head on his chest. âThatâs sounds good to me. How come youâre home so late?â
âMy dad wanted to meet with me and Jane at the Lyme House. Hey, get this. What if I told you I might have a job offer here in town?â
She gazed up at him with a puzzled look. âThat would be great, but I thought youâd checked out every station and nobody was hiring.â
âI wouldnât be working for a TV station. Dad wants me to come work for his campaign. He said he has to check it out, but heâs pretty sure he can offer me a paid position.â
âWow, Peter, that would be a fantastic opportunity for you.â
He pulled her closer to him, felt the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of his shirt. âI love you, Siggy. I donât ever want to lose you.â He tipped her chin up. And then he kissed her.
Right about then they both forgot about dinner.
Â
The clock on the nightstand read 3:27 AM . Easing out of bed, Peter found his pants hanging over a chair. He carried them into the bathroom and turned on the light. Digging the letter out of his pocket, he tore the back flap open and removed an invoice with a scribbled note attached.
âShit,â whispered Peter, reading through it quickly. This wasnât what heâd expected. Heâd hired a private investigator to locate and then send him a copy of the adoption papers Sigrid had signed ten years ago. The lawyer whoâd brokered the deal in New Jersey, Vaughn Cabot, had drawn them up. Sigrid said shewould never forget the names of the people whoâd adopted her babyâMatt and Carrie Tanhauer, residents of New York. Cabot told her theyâd named the baby Margaret. Peter had never met Cabot, but it didnât matter. He loathed him on general principle.
Glancing back down at the note, he read it again:
No birth certificate on record. And no adoption record in either New Jersey or New York. That means whatever your wife signed was never filed. Found an address for Matthew Tanhauer in Manhattan. Donât know if itâs the same guy who adopted Margaret, but will investigate further if you want. Tanhauerâs address is
â
570 Parkway West
New York, NY 10010
Unlisted phone number. I included an invoice, in case you donât want to pursue this further.
Shifflet
The invoice was for five hoursâ work at $125 an hour.
âMargaret,â whispered Peter, sitting down on the side of the tub. In the past few months, with little to do but brood about his life, finding Margaret had become
Suzanne Young
Bonnie Bryant
Chris D'Lacey
Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
Jesse Ventura, Dick Russell
Sloane Meyers
L.L Hunter
C. J. Cherryh
Bec Adams
Ari Thatcher