traditional adoption by any means, it can be difficult to obtain this kind of information. Especially from so long ago. She would have a legal right to examine any existing records, while you, as her sibling, might not."
That put a different slant on everything. I might just have to tell Maria after all. I didn't like the way this conversation was going.
“Thanks, Mr. Conner,” I said. "Can you check into things and let me know if you actually need her permission? We can decide what to do once you find out anything."
I shoved the phone back into my purse, even more unsettled after this revelation from Conner. In fact, I felt dazed. This meant there was a possibility that Maria and I weren't full-blood sisters. That didn't matter as far as our relationship, but it certainly brought up a lot more questions for me to sort through.
I took a booth at the back of the little diner. It was quiet and homey and I made it a habit to eat here at least once a week. The waiter, a student working to pay his tuition, reminded me a lot of myself. Well, the "old" self before I'd met Antonio and moved into retail. He was friendly and quick, and knew my order.
“Nice to see you, Angela,” Nick said, bringing me a fizz water and lemon without needing to ask what I wanted to drink.
The familiarity made me smile, snapping me out of my funk. “I guess you know what I’m going to eat, too?” I took a sip of the carbonated water, the bubbles breaking over my tongue.
He grinned. “Shrimp Caesar salad today? Or are you going to surprise me and order a BLT?”
I still had way too many questions running through my head. “How about you surprise me today, Nick?” After all, my world had just been turned on its ear, what did it matter what I ate for lunch?
He tipped an imaginary hat to me. “I know just the thing, Miss Tilson!” he said and walked away.
I appreciated the little diner. The staff here was always so cheerful. The food wasn’t five star, but hominess and charm goes a long way.
I sat back in the booth, glancing over at a newspaper the previous customer had left on the table. Nick apparently hadn't had time to add it to the pile by the door.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathed, grabbing the front page section. There, in full color, was the distinguished looking shuffleboard player from the cruise. He was shaking hands with a woman I didn’t recognize. Behind them was Brad Stephens, the District Attorney, standing shoulder to shoulder with Whiny Walker under a headline in big, bold letters: “South Side Children’s Academy Receives Generous Donation.” The caption read, "Alderman Cartoli presents check to Alice Baker, Director of the Academy."
My mind flashed back to being stuck in my room behind a locked door, listening to Walker’s whiny voice. I shivered as his words came back to me:
"It's bad enough he's on the Board of South Side Children's Academy. I don't trust him to keep his mouth shut about anything, and I certainly don’t plan to let him take any of us down with him. When he goes down, it’s him alone”
At the time, I thought he’d been talking about Stephens, our District Attorney. Yet there the two were, standing side by side, laughing together like they were the best of friends. As I looked more closely, I saw the silhouette of a face I could never forget. Naomi. Standing on the other side of Walker. What in the world was going on here?
“Ta Da! Here you go,” said Nick, placing a plate in front of me. “This is my favorite.”
The plate was stacked with little triangles—quesadillas, neatly arranged in a half circle, with a scoop of guacamole, and sprinkled with a zesty spice that tickled my nose.
It looked utterly delicious, but, glancing back at that image on the front page, I realized that I’d completely lost my appetite.
“I'm sorry Nick,” I said, the words barely falling from my mouth. “Would you mind packing that up to go?”
Chapter Eighteen
Walking back to the office, I
Lara Santoro
Howard W. French
Margaret Atwood
Natalia Elder
Joyce Meyer
Edmond Hamilton
Sarah Michelle Lynch
Clive Cussler
Antony Trew
Lorena Bathey