Page 32 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
“The proof is right here.” Elizabeth tapped the top of the photo. “I would bet my life Tristan Blakely is your son.”
Brett ran his hands through his hair, his face a mixture of shock and confusion. “Addison should have told me.”
“Your father practically threw her out, paid her off and told her he never wanted her to step foot on Easton Island again. Rhett had powerful connections. Who knows what he may have done behind the scenes to ensure she heeded his warning.”
“I know this is none of my business,” Morgan said.
Elizabeth held up her hand. “You’re wrong. Itisyour business. This affects our entire family, including you. I didn’t mean to interrupt, but we all need to understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“What I was going to say is that Tristan is the innocent victim in this whole scene. His mother is dead. The man he looked up to as a father figure has all but abandoned him. Imagine Jeff Blakely’s shock at finding the note from Addison, telling her who Tristan’s real father was.”
“I want a DNA test,” Brett said.
“Mr. Blakely seems amenable, even suggesting it to begin with.” Elizabeth pressed her palms together. “Until we sort this out, I think the next step is to invite them to stay here.”
“Because you don’t want them wandering around Easton Harbor introducing Tristan as my son.”
“Correct. It also seems coldhearted to have them fend for themselves with a blizzard bearing down on us. What exactly did Mr. Blakely tell you during your meeting?”
“Addison was in a relationship with a man who helped raise Tristan. When she died a few weeks ago, he basically walked out, never to be seen or heard from again.”
“If Addison believed you were Tristan’s father, why not contact you?” Morgan asked. “It would have been fairly easy for her to find out Rhett was dead and no longer a threat.”
“Jeff claims there was a second note. She was afraid that if she told me, I would take Tristan away from her.”
“Who knows what Rhett would have done had he found out,” Elizabeth said. “It may have been a legitimate concern. I doubt she had money to fight a custody battle with the Easton family.”
“Jeff didn’t go into detail about the other note.” Brett walked over to the window. “He’s in a tough spot. Jeff loves Tristan, but he travels extensively. He’s found someone reliable to care for him while he’s gone, but we both agreed it isn’t a permanent solution.”
“The boy needs a home and family. He’s at an age where he needs firm guidance,” Elizabeth said. “For the sake of discussion, let’s kick this can down the road. You get a DNA test. The test confirms that Tristan is your son. What are you prepared to do?”
Brett shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly turned. “I’ll be honest, I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. To think I have a son, someone to carry on the Easton Family Dynasty.”
“He seems like a good kid,” Morgan said. “He’s out there right now with Jax, having a ball. If you want my two cents and he is your son, he belongs here.”
“I agree,” Elizabeth said. “Your son is and will be a part of the family, but at the end of the day, the decision is yours.”
Brett closed his eyes.
Morgan could only imagine what was going through his head—shock, disbelief, a jumble of emotions. She wasn’t a hundred percent certain what his decision would be, but she knew him well enough to guess which way he would sway.
When she’d arrived for the reading of her mother’s will, she’d embraced the feeling of familiarity from almost the moment she'd stepped foot on Easton Island. She belonged here. This was her home.
Tristan, like her, had been raised in a completely different environment. Maybe Addison wasn’t mother material, but clearly she had loved her son and tried her best. The same could be said of his uncle, which is why he had gone to all the trouble of bringing Tristan here.
“The first and most important step is to get the DNA testing done. By then, I should have it figured out.”
“I agree.” Elizabeth moved toward the door. “In the meantime, I think you should extend the invitation and invite them to stay here.”
“I have a friend who owns a lab in Toronto,” Brett said. “I can fast-track the DNA testing and have the results within a few days.”
“Perfect. The sooner we sort this out, the better.”
“How will we explain this to the guests?” Morgan met her brother’s gaze. “And Quinn?”
“Until we know for certain, I would like to keep this under wraps. Mrs. Arnsby knows, as do Ben and Jax. I’ll talk to Quinn.”
“It’s settled. Mr. Blakely is still in the library. You’ll extend the invitation while I instruct the staff to put them in the rear-facing guest rooms.”
