The Reluctant Bride

“Yes, but this was the first time he didn’t act excited about the wedding. He wasn’t…himself. I didn’t want to say anything about Mom to him.”

“Does Anita know about this? The note? The sweatshirt?”

Karinne shook her head. “No. She has enough to worry about, losing her job and all.”

“I don’t think she’s that upset about losing her job anymore. And if she is, I’ll make it up to her,” Cory said with a sexy smirk. “Long-distance marriages are for the birds. I don’t know how military wives or husbands stand it.”

“They don’t have a choice. Like me.”

“You’re wrong. You do have a choice, Karinne. You just refuse to see it.”

Karinne shifted uneasily in her seat and decided not to comment on Cory’s observation. She steered the conversation back to the earlier topic.

“You don’t believe my mother’s alive, do you?” she asked.

“No way.”

“Dad didn’t, either. But I have a feeling—”

“Wishful thinking.”

“We’ve always been straight with each other, Cory. If you were me, what would you do?”

“I wouldn’t take any chances with a deranged stalker,” he said.

“Why would anyone stalk me? I’m no celebrity.”

“Still, you shouldn’t set yourself up as target for some creepy con artist.”

“I don’t intend to…but I thought I’d wear the top,” Karinne blurted out.

Cory ran his hand through his hair. “But we just agreed that your mother’s dead.”

“Yes…” Karinne took in a deep breath. “If by some miracle she isn’t…wearing it would be a signal, wouldn’t it? Like a green light saying I’m approachable.”

“Skip the green lights for anyone but Max,” Cory said. “Forget about this woman—and go back to flower arrangements for the wedding. Guest lists. Whatever.”

“I still have to tell Max.”

Cory swore. Karinne stared at him in frank amazement. “Sorry.” Cory piled his tray with the empty dishes and glasses. “It’s just that the same thing’s been happening to Max.”

“What?”

“He’s been getting crank calls from someone who claims to be your mother.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” At Cory’s raised eyebrows, she winced. “I know—I’m guilty of the same thing.” She frowned. “Did he go to the police?”

“Yes, but he learned nothing. You two need to talk.”

Karinne nodded. “This trip’s off to a great start.”

“Tell him,” Cory ordered, throwing down his napkin and rising. “Now’s as good a time as any.” He gestured toward Max, who was returning to their table. “See you later.”

Karinne sipped her coffee as Max rejoined her. “I showed Anita where the women’s dorms are, where you and she will be staying tonight.”

“Dorms…” Karinne groaned with dismay. “Too bad they don’t have a real hotel down here. Or someplace we could share a sleeping bag.”

“That’s the story of our life, isn’t it? Never together.”

Karinne shivered. “Don’t say never.”

Max pointed at her coffee. “Are you ready to go?”

“Not yet.” She set down her mug. “I wanted to talk to you about a photo I took a few months ago. There was this woman…” She told Max everything that had happened back at the stadium and her visit to the police station.

“I even told Dad about it, but he didn’t buy it.”

A long pause seemed to fill the air. The other diners faded into the background. Max’s expression seemed so serious Karinne shivered.

“I may have heard from that woman, too,” he finally said.

“Cory told me,” Karinne whispered. “And she claimed to be my mother?”

“Yes.”

A million questions jumped into her mind. She asked the easiest one. “When was this?”

“Almost two months ago. After we put our engagement announcement in the paper. A woman called. Said she was Margot and wanted to wish us well.”

Karinne shivered again, despite the hot coffee. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because the Flagstaff police and park rangers thought it was a crank call. So did I.”

“That’s what the Phoenix police told me. But obviously this goes beyond that. You should’ve said something,” she insisted.

“And you, too.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment. “You don’t think…my mother could be alive, do you?”

“No.”

“I wish the woman had called me instead of you,” Karinne said. “I would’ve recognized the voice if it really was Mom.”

“I’m glad she didn’t. I’d hate to think she had your phone number. Or worse, your address,” Max said. “This person does have my address,” Karinne admitted miserably. “She sent me a Grand Canyon sweatshirt—and a note.”

“Someone actually sent you a package? When?”

“Last week. This woman wants to see me.”