Unexpected Mommy

“How come you never mentioned him?” Lizzy asked.

“Jenny, Lizzy, leave it be for now,” her mother warned. “Can’t you see how distraught your father is already without you two stirring the pot? Give him time to absorb all this.”

He waved off her concern. “I’m not half as upset as I’d be if this Chance Adams had taken me by surprise,” he declared, pushing away from the table.

Despite his claim, though, he was visibly shaken. Once on his feet, he took a moment to steady himself. This time Jenny was about to rush to assist him, but a sharp look from her mother kept her in her seat.

Finally he squared his shoulders and said, “I’m going to my office. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“Harlan, you haven’t even finished your dinner,” her mother protested.

“I’m not hungry.”

Her mother gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll bring a snack to your office in a bit, then,” she said, watching him go, her expression filled with concern.

When he was gone, Jenny turned to her mother. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, Jenny. Harlan’s right. It’s better to be prepared, I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Did you know anything about this brother?” Jenny asked.

“Nothing. He’s never said a word. It’s as if the man never existed. I doubt we would ever have heard of him if this Chance Adams hadn’t turned up.”

“There’s not a single snapshot in the house with him in it, I’m sure of that,” Jenny said. “Remember how I used to make Daddy sit down with all the family albums and tell me who everyone was?”

Her mother smiled. “Once he made you an Adams, you went about it with a vengeance. I’ve never known anyone so anxious to know every little detail about their adoptive ancestors.”

“I don’t know why that surprised you,” Jenny countered. “I was the same way about yours. It’s just that you’d been telling me all those stories for years and years. Besides, I wanted to figure out which one of those sneaky Adamses stole Native American land.”

She’d made the comment in jest, but her mother looked thoughtful.

“Harlan made you his heir so you’d get your share of that land back,” she reminded Jenny. “Do you suppose he’ll do the same thing to make things right with Chance Adams?”

“Nephew or not, Daddy didn’t sound much like he thought this man had a legitimate claim,” Jenny said.

Lizzy agreed with her. “In fact, I’m betting that by tomorrow he’ll have the wagons circled. You’d better tell Maritza to count on every family member within shouting distance to be here for dinner. Daddy’s probably calling Luke and Cody and Jordan now.”

“You’re probably right,” her mother conceded. “In that case, I’d better take that snack in to him and make sure he eats it. He’s going to need all his strength for whatever lies ahead.”

By dinnertime the next day, Harlan had, in fact, gathered the whole darn clan. Luke and Jessie had driven over from their ranch. Cody, who ran White Pines on a day-in day-out basis, was there with Melissa. Even Jordan had flown in from Houston, where he’d been checking on the branch office of his oil operation for the past week. Kelly met him on the porch and they came in together.

The next generation was represented by Jordan’s son, Justin, his daughter, Dani and her new husband, and Cody’s son, Harlan Patrick. Cody’s daughter, Sharon Lynn, was expected as soon as she closed Dolan’s for the night, along with her fiancé, Kyle Mason.

Looking at the noisy gathering crowded around the dinner table, Jenny smiled. She was pretty sure Luke’s daughter, Angela, and Clint would have flown down from Montana with their son if there had been time. Everyone else was there. That was just the way this family did things. That solidarity and strength was what made them wonderful.

And formidable. She wondered if Chance Adams had any idea what a united front he was about to go up against.

Maritza had reacted to the sudden dinner party with her usual aplomb. The table was filled with platters of the black-bean burritos, the chicken enchiladas and savory beef tacos that everyone loved. There were huge bowls of pico de gallo and hot sauce spicy enough to burn the roof of your mouth.

To Jenny’s amazement, her father remained absolutely quiet about the reason for the gathering until after Maritza had served the cooling caramel-topped flan for dessert. Maybe he’d figured digesting all that Mexican food was going to be difficult enough without mixing in stress.

Or maybe he was just putting off the bad news because he feared getting into it at all. Jenny observed him intently all during the meal and noticed he barely touched his food, even though it was something he loved and rarely got a chance to eat since Maritza had taken to keeping a close eye on his diet. Whatever had happened years ago with this long-lost brother was clearly eating away at him now.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I insisted on getting all of you together in such a hurry,” he began, silencing the small talk and good-natured bickering going on around the table. He cleared his throat. “Something’s come up and I felt it couldn’t wait till Sunday.”