Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [56]
Before they could get out of the car, a woman came through the front door. The light went on as she crossed the porch to pick up the newspaper. She was a small woman, barely five feet, with short, dark brown hair. She wore a burgundy velour warm-up suit, her feet in tennis shoes. Was this her grandmother?
Julia bit down on her bottom lip, feeling suddenly terrified to talk to the woman.
"Showtime," Alex said.
"Don't say it like that," she snapped at him. "This isn't funny. This is my life."
She could tell by his expression that he thought she was overreacting, but he was wise enough not to say so. "Are you ready?' he asked instead.
"No, but I don't think that will change in the next few minutes." Julia glanced out the window and saw the woman giving them a curious look. She probably wondered why they were parked in front of her house. Julia stepped out of the car and moved up the walkway. "Mrs. Davidson?" she said in what she hoped was a friendly voice.
"Yes. Who are you?" the woman asked warily. "I won't be buying anything."
"And we won't be selling anything," Alex said, flashing her a reassuring smile.
Julia saw Mrs. Davidson relax under that smile. The man could certainly put on the charm when he wanted to. "We'd just like to speak to you for a few moments," Julia told her.
"About what?"
Julia hesitated, not sure how to begin. "About your daughter," she said finally. "Sarah."
Mrs. Davidson gasped and put a shaky hand to her heart. "Sarah?" she echoed. "Why would you want to talk about Sarah?" She turned to Alex. "You're the man who called this morning, aren't you? I told you my daughter is dead, and I really don't care to talk about her with strangers. If you'll excuse me-"
"Wait." Julia drew in a deep breath, knowing there was no easy way to deliver the news. "I'm not a stranger. Sarah was my mother."
"No." The woman began to shake her head, her eyes wide in disbelief. "No, that's not possible. Sarah was killed in a fire. She didn't have any children. You're thinking of another Sarah."
"Show her the photo," Alex advised.
Julia reached into her purse and pulled out the photo of her mother and herself taken at her college graduation. She handed it to the older woman. Mrs. Davidson moved so she could look at it under the light. Alex and Julia followed, waiting for her reaction. It wasn't long in coming.
As she studied the photo, her breathing came short and fast. "That's her. That's Sarah, my baby girl." She lifted her head to stare at Julia in bewilderment. "She's older in this picture. I don't understand. She died twenty-five years ago."
Julia swallowed hard. "No, she didn't. That picture was taken seven years ago. I have others, some from last year and the year before."
"She's alive? Where is she? I want to see her."
Damn. She hadn't phrased that right. "I'm sorry, but I should have started by saying that my mother died six months ago."
A flood of emotions ran through the older woman's eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Then she began to sway. "I-can't-breathe."
Alex grabbed the elderly woman just before she hit the ground. He swung her up into his arms and carried her into the house.
"Oh, my God!" Julia felt incredibly guilty. Had she caused her grandmother to have a heart attack or a stroke? She wasn't a young woman. She was thin and frail, and she'd lost her husband only a short time ago. Julia immediately regretted blurting out the news about her mother without any warning. "I shouldn't have said it like that," Julia murmured. "I should have softened the blow."
"There was no way to do that." Alex set Mrs. Davidson down on a floral-print sofa in the living room, pulling a pillow under her head. He put his finger against her pulse and bent his head to check