Erase. Erase. Erase. Erase.

Try again.

MAX DI LUCA:

MALE, HAS HAIR, BODY, FACE, EYES, LASHES. ONCE HIGH UP IN THE DI LUCA FAMILY CORPORATION, STEPPED DOWN TO RAISE HIS DAUGHTER, NOW DIRECTOR OF THE FAMILY’S OREGON WINERY OPERATIONS. KIND, GENEROUS, RESPONSIBLE, LOVING, YET A MASTER OF SEIZING EVERY OPPORTUNITY, STICKLER FOR DUTY.

More of a stickler than Kellen, it appeared.

Their daughter was a Di Luca descendant.

Max did not appreciate their daughter being dismissed for whatever reason. “What happened to Nevada?”

“I went to Nevada. My aunt didn’t know me so I drove north and—”

“Didn’t stop here.”

“I should have, but I... Max, I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know what Rae needs from me.”

In a crisp tone she had never before heard from Max, he said, “Maybe you should ask Rae what she wants.”

Uh-oh. “No! Listen!”

His hand over the phone, he bellowed, “Rae! Your mama wants to talk to you.”

In the background, she heard a little girl’s seven-year-old voice shrieking, “Yayyyyy!” The phone was dropped, picked up, then there she was, Rae Di Luca, the person Kellen most feared in the whole world. “Mommy! Where are you? I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Well, I—”

“I’m going to show you my princess dolls and my dollhouse and my slimeball and my secret tree house—”

Max’s voice sounded in the background. “You have a tree house?”

“No.” A pause, then Rae continued in a more subdued voice. “Grandma made cookies and burned the bottoms. Do you make burned cookies? I’ve got three weeks of school and then it’s summer vacation. Can you come in time for my class party? My friends could see you and that would be awesome! Roxy Birtle says I don’t really have a mommy. You could be my show-and-tell!”

Kellen realized Rae had stopped talking. Kellen took a breath, trying to think of the right answer. “I hope I can come to your class party. Right now, I’m in Virtue Falls, and I have responsibilities and duties I’ve committed to perform.” Oh, no. She sounded so stultified, using big words no seven-year-old would understand.

But Rae asked, “Are these solemn responsibilities and duties?”

Kellen thought of her promise to appear at the food pantry. “I’m going to prepare soup at the Catholic shelter so the homeless will not starve. Yes, my responsibilities and duties are solemn.”

“Okay!” Rae’s cheerful note was back. “When you come home, we’ll have a good time.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell Daddy about the tree house.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

Kellen found herself caught on a hook through her throat. Rae meant it; she put all her youthful enthusiasm into those words. Yet how could Rae love Kellen? They had barely met.

But Max had kept Kellen alive in Rae’s mind as the mommy she had never known—kind, generous, loving... “I am so happy to know you’re my daughter.” Kellen didn’t say I love you; she had trouble saying that. For her, love had never turned out well. But she was happy Rae was her daughter. Kellen might not remember giving birth, might not remember Rae as a baby, as a toddler, as a little girl, but if she had gone through her whole life without knowing about Rae, that would be a tragedy, and right now, she truly understood its weight. “Rae, I will see you soon.”

“Okay! Yay! Bye!”

Abruptly, Rae was gone and no one picked up the phone, so Kellen held on, feeling like a fool, until it was clear no one was going to officially end the call, and she hung up.

INTHEKITCHENat the Oregon winery, Verona Di Luca turned away from the food processor. “Ceecee, or Kellen, whatever her name is—she doesn’t care enough about our little girl to visit?”

“She’s happy that I’m her daughter.” Rae picked an oatmeal butterscotch cookie up off the cooling rack and frowned at the blackened bottom.