Page 66 of Paging Dr. Summers

Uh. No. It couldn’t be. Could it? There was only one reason I could think of, and it punched me in the gut like a Mike Tyson TKO. It all made sense now why my mom sent me to Aspen Lake.

Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh.I wished I would have found some boudoir photos. They would have made me much less queasy.

As quickly and as discreetly as I could, I grabbed the manila envelope while Lola was in the closet and ran without even saying goodbye. I needed to know the truth. I needed to know if Maxwell Harrington was my father.

A FRANTIC POUNDING ON THE sliding glass door caught us all by surprise while we were playing Monopoly at the kitchen table. I was more surprised to find it was Brooke. I hadn’t expected to see her that night, as she was supposed to have plans with Lola.

“Oh, dear; it looks like she’s been crying,” Mom commented.

That had me flying out of my seat and rushing to the door. As soon as I opened it, Brooke spilled in and fell against me, clutching a manila envelope and sobbing.

I wrapped my arms around her protectively as she trembled. “Brooke, what’s wrong?” A panic rose inside me, a mixture of fear and the desire to fix whatever was the matter.

“Maxwell,” she stuttered. “He . . . he . . . he . . .” Her sobs got more pronounced.

My panic morphed into rage, and my fear reached nightmarish levels at the utterance of his name.

“What did that bastard do?” The worst-case scenarios screamed through my head, making it pound.

“My mom saysbastardis a bad word,” Sophie reminded me.

“Maybe we should leave them alone,” Eden said. “Let’s go out for ice cream.”

“But what’s wrong with Brooke?” Sophie cried as Eden tried to usher her out.

“Don’t worry; Uncle Logan will take care of her.” Mom tried to comfort my niece.

I only hoped that I could undo whatever Maxwell had done, but I was sick thinking it was the kind of thing that would cause lifelong damage.

As soon as everyone left, I picked up Brooke and cradled her against me.

She curled into me and nuzzled her head in the crook of my neck, gripping the envelope. Her hot tears spilled over my skin.

I kissed her head as I walked us to the couch and sat down, keeping a tight hold on her. For minutes she just sobbed, unable to speak. All the while, I imagined myself causing significant harm to Maxwell Harrington. Whatever he’d done to her, he was going to pay for it. That, I would make sure of.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Brooke’s sobs turned into shudders, and she took several cleansing breaths, trying to compose herself.

My fingers danced down her bare arm several times as I tried to let her know I was there for her.

Without saying a word, she pulled out the manila envelope pinned between us. “It’s all in here,” she stammered.

“What’s in there?”

“The reason my mom sent me here.”

“I’m not following,” I said gently, confused.

“She wanted me to meet my father.”

“Your father?” As soon as I asked, I realized what she meant. Oh, hell. Maxwell’s attention and help now came into a new light. He was still a bastard, but at least I wouldn’t have to call the authorities. “Maxwell Harrington is your father?”

Brooke sat up and nodded. Her eyes and face were puffy and red.

I ran the back of my hand down her waterlogged cheek. “How did you find out? Did he tell you?”

She shook her head and then told me the story of breaking into Maxwell’s office and finding the envelope under the concert posters.

“After I stole the envelope, I rushed home and read every letter between my mom and Maxwell,” she said, as if she couldn’t get enoughoxygen into her lungs. “Some of them are the sweetest things I’ve ever read. They seemed very much in love. It was a summer love.” Her voice cracked.

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