Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [32]
"You have to find Amelia's biological mother before she finds me," Mark added. "And once you find her, you have to find a way to discredit her. If this Ashley has prescription medication or mental issues, that could make her an unfit mother, or at least give us some ammunition.
"Ashley may not be the mother."
"But she might be. Until we know for sure, we need to dig up information on each of the women. I have something to fight with. The more dirt you can get the better. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect Amelia."
"So will I," Tyler promised. His niece had already lost her mother, he wouldn't let Amelia lose her father, too. They deserved to be together. No matter how they'd started out, they were a family now, and if Tyler had anything to say about it, they would stay that way.
Chapter Six
The family picture evolved slowly, first the father, then the mother, the son, the daughter, and finally the dog. Ashley stared at the photograph she was developing in her makeshift darkroom, which also served as the bathroom in her one-bedroom apartment. It had been a good day of work. After she'd left the marina, she'd joined the Haroldsons for their family reunion picnic at Stern Grove. She'd snapped a dozen photographs of the large clan and the individual families who had come from far and wide to spend the weekend together playing volleyball, barbecuing burgers, and laughing a lot. The Haroldsons had treated her like part of the family, and she'd enjoyed herself, too.
Stern Grove was a forested area set deep in the center of the island -- no sign of water, just tall trees, thick bushes, and plenty of flowers. It was one of Ashley's favorite spots, and one she'd photographed many times. She'd had a picnic at Stern Grove with Sean once. They must have been eleven or twelve, and their picnic fare had consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, apples, and Twinkies. She smiled at the memory, wishing all her memories could be so happy and carefree.
Although, it wasn't her memories that were the problem these days; it was Sean's presence on the island. She no longer had the luxury of roaming freely without worrying about running into him. She'd already bumped into him twice in as many days. And, with race week coming up, they'd be crossing each other's paths constantly. How on earth was she going to handle him?
The doorbell rang, and she started. What if it was Sean? Her pulse sped up at the thought. She wanted to see him almost as much as she didn't want to see him. But, if it was him, she had to answer the door; she simply could not allow him to go on thinking that she was avoiding him. It made it all seem that much more important. She just had to act casual, as if she didn't care, as if it really was over between them.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of the darkroom, closing the door behind her. A quick glance at her small apartment reminded her that it was in its usual state of disarray. Her kitchen table was covered with photographs, her coffee table piled high with more of the same. She liked to think of her space as controlled chaos, but in truth it was more chaos than control. Her attention span had never been particularly long; she was known for starting one thing, getting distracted, and never coming back to it. She picked up the half-eaten sandwich she'd made for lunch and tossed it in the wastebasket as she headed for the door.
"I'm coming," she called. She threw open the door, and her jaw dropped open in surprise, for standing in front of her was the last person she'd ever expected to see, Sean's mother, Naomi Amberson.
Ashley stared at her in dismay. They'd shared a few brief conversations over the years, even conversed about the weather or some island happening, but they hadn't had a private discussion in years, and Ashley didn't particularly want to start now.
"I should have called," Naomi said, holding her purse tightly