Page 4 of Max's Mission

Margot sighed. “I know.”

“So, what’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not.”

He snorted. “The tear tracks on your face tell me otherwise.”

“I’m not upset. Just… overwhelmed.”

“Because of the girls? What did Em do today?” That girl could try the Pope’s patience.

She barked a short laugh. “It wasn’t Emily.”

“No?”

“No.” She reached over him for more tissues, then blew her nose. When she finished, she stared at the wad of white in her hand.

He lightly touched her forearm, trying to gain her attention. “So, should I keep guessing?”

Margot lifted her head. The bleakness in her eyes punched him in the gut. He hadn’t seen that look since he’d first met her when her life was in total turmoil.

“I got a phone call today. From a detective in North Dakota.” She rolled her lips in for a moment, then let them go on a slow exhale. “My ex-husband is dead.”

Shock made him sit up straighter. He stared for several seconds, a frown forming as he mulled her words over. “You said a detective called? Not the medical examiner’s office?”

“Yeah. I don’t know many details. He didn’t seem like he wanted to discuss it too much over the phone. Apparently, um…” She trailed off and rubbed at her temple. “Um, he was… decomposed, so they’re not completely certain it’s him.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “How did they know to call you, then?Whydid they call you? You’re divorced.”

“They found keys in his clothing that went to a car they’d found abandoned months ago. I guess something in it gave them his name.” She paused, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.“The girls are his next-of-kin, which makes me his next-of-kin since they’re so young. He doesn’t have any other family except for a few distant cousins. The detective asked if I could submit a DNA sample from one of the twins. Dental records weren’t an option. He—” She stopped, swallowing hard. “He was missing quite a few teeth, he said.” Her gaze dipped, then she turned her head away.

His inner radar went off. It was something about the way her gaze darted off. He set a hand over hers, squeezing. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Her eyes met his, then she looked away again, pulling her hand out from under his. “Stop reading me.”

“It’s not like I really have to try, Margot. Your face is an open book. What else does the detective want?”

She sighed and muttered a soft curse under her breath before she met his gaze again, piqued. “He wants me to come up there and identify him from the things they found in his car. He’s got questions too.”

Like a lightbulb illuminating the darkness, Annabeth’s reasons for sending him over became crystal clear.

Max nodded. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her again, but he didn’t want to push things. “You plan to go alone, don’t you?”

“I don’t have anyone else.” Margot shifted in her seat, looking over her shoulder toward the hallway where the girls slept. “Annabeth and Dean are watching the girls. I’m an only child to two elderly parents who didn’t really want to be parents. I’m not even sure where they are right now.”

Max’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You realize you have a town full of people who would hop on a plane with you in a heartbeat, right? Any of us would drop everything and go with you. All you have to do is ask.”

She pushed to her feet and stormed into the kitchen, throwing open the freezer to get to the gelato.

He got up and followed her. “Margot.”

She aimed a glare at him as she yanked open a drawer and withdrew an ice cream scoop.

He stayed by the island, not wanting to crowd her. Why she was so angry, he didn’t understand. Her attitude didn’t put him off their discussion, though. If anything, he wanted to know more—wanted to understand why she was so surly. And somehow, he had to get her to see that she wasn’t a burden but part of their small, ragtag family.

She heaped gelato into two bowls, tapping the scoop on the side with a little more force than necessary. “I know I’m being unreasonable, but—” She flattened her lips, glancing away. When she met his gaze again, moisture shimmered there.

With a sniff, she grabbed a spoon, jabbing it into her gelato. “First, I’m not used to having help. Before Tad, I did everything alone. It’s the curse of having parents who were in their forties when I was born and didn’t really want me. They left me alone. A lot. Even when they were home, I had a nanny.” She swirled the gelato in her bowl, staring at it. Deep furrows etched her brow. “Second, you all have done so much for me already. What happened with Tad—it’s my mess.”

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