An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach) by Mariah Stewart (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📗

I was. Thank you for reminding me.” Natalie went back to scrolling the list of DNA matches, identifying her cousins Lainey and Alex, several second cousins, and a bunch of third, fourth, and fifth cousins. Dismissing the message from her “half brother Joe Miller,” she resumed her search into the family trees of the more distant matches, hoping for clues to her search for the elusive Lola Barnes.

The snow stopped for a brief time, during which Natalie bundled up herself and Daisy and went outside to build a snowman. They’d managed to get all three round sections rolled and stacked before the storm resumed with a vengeance.

“He has no face, Mama,” Daisy protested when Natalie said they’d have to go back inside for a while. “And he needs buttons. See?” She’d pointed to the middle snowball that made up the snowman’s abdomen.

“We’ll give him a face later when the snow stops falling for good and the wind has died down.” Natalie ushered her daughter to the door and, once inside, stripped them both of wet boots, mittens, hats, and hooded winter jackets. She made hot chocolate, and they drank it in front of the fireplace, where the heat chased the cold and damp from their feet and faces. Lulled by the warmth, Natalie snuggled Daisy’s small body next to her own and watched her daughter unsuccessfully fight sleep. Almost against her will, the note from the man calling himself Joe Miller popped back into her head. She’d been quick to assume the message a hoax, but it occurred to her that he’d have had to be on the website legitimately to even have access to her. But a half brother? Nah. Whoever read the test results hadn’t done a very good job. He might be a second cousin, but not a brother, half or otherwise.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder. The possibilities were, well, not possible in her world. She wondered how old Joe Miller was. Was he older, maybe the result of a relationship her father had had before he’d met her mother? But no, there was no way in hell Art Flynn would have not been in the life of any child he’d fathered, which meant he wouldn’t have known about his son.

The thought that either of her parents could have had an affair while they were married to each other simply wasn’t an option. Could Joe Miller be the child of a long-ago liaison between her father and his mother?

She soon dismissed even that possibility as not plausible. Later she’d try to recover the message she’d deleted, and she’d respond to Mr. Miller and suggest he contact the research site to report they’d made a mistake. She wasn’t his half sister, but she’d wish him luck in his search.

Chapter Nine

MAGGIE

On the first Monday in January, Maggie dressed appropriately for a Center City Philadelphia law office—a well-tailored suit, heels, and a silk blouse—and headed for the train at the Bryn Mawr station for her monthly visit to Flynn Law. She boarded, then took her seat and opened the newspaper she’d grabbed on the way out her front door, crossed her legs, and settled in behind the arts section. A moment later she lowered the paper, pushed back her left sleeve, and turned her forearm to admire the tattoo she, Liddy, and Emma had agreed on after much discussion.

That Saturday in Charlotte, they’d filed into the small but neat shop promptly at noon. The artist had been waiting for them, though it appeared to Maggie she was still somewhat skeptical that one of the well-dressed middle-aged ladies standing before her could possibly be the woman who’d given birth to the infinitely cool Chris Dean and therefore given the world DEAN.

“Which one of you is Emma?” The tattooist sat in a small leather chair at a desk that was way too large for her tiny frame.

She was a walking advertisement for her art. Vines entwined her thin arms all the way to her neck, which they wrapped around. Roses bloomed on her arms alongside angel wings. A larger pair of wings embracing a flowery heart covered what they could see of her chest.

Emma, whose stare was fixed on the vines, raised her hand. “Emma here.”

“I’m Nicole. Your son called and said he’s running late. I hope you guys aren’t playing me, because I’m going to be pissed if someone walks in here and says he’s a roadie for DEAN and Chris got tied up and he’s not coming, and I’ve closed my shop and canceled my other appointments. I hate to be scammed.”

“If Chris said he’ll be here, he’ll be here.” Emma leveled the not-so-young woman with her laser gaze.

“You ladies know what you want?”

“Not really.” Maggie looked from Emma to Liddy and back again. “We thought you might have some ideas we could look at.”

“Fortunately for you, I do.” Nicole opened a drawer and took out several catalogs, which she tossed on the desktop. “No ideas? Theme? Anything you like, don’t like. Help me out here.”

“Something with a three theme,” Liddy said as she reached for one of the catalogs.

“You mean, three of something?” Without waiting for a response, Nicole flipped one of the catalogs open, thumbed through for a second, and turned the book around to show her customers. “Three hearts. A shamrock. Three stars.” She turned the page before any of the three women could get a close look. “Three monkeys—you know, see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

“I’m not sure that applies,” Emma murmured just as Liddy said, “A distinct possibility.”

“Then you have your Celtic cross. Celtic knot. A Celtic spiral.” She glanced up at them. “Represents the three stages of a woman’s life. Maid, mother, crone.”

“You lost me at crone.” Maggie frowned and gestured for her to go on to something else.

“So call her the matriarch. It’s a beautiful tattoo, very popular. It’s a symbol of female power.” Nicole straightened up as the shop door opened. Seconds later her