A Family Affair: The Secret Read Free

it in her suitcase. Magdalena, New York, sounded more backward than Montpelier and she wasn’t taking a chance they’d never heard of the Italian cookies.
    “That’s how everything starts,” he said on a sigh, his dark eyes narrowing on her suitcase. “‘It’s only.’ Like it’s temporary and doesn’t matter because it’s not going to last. It’s only for a few days, or, it’s only for a few weeks.” He rubbed a hand over his weather-beaten face, frowned. “But somehow the weeks turn to months, the months become years, and the ‘it’s only’ sinks and disappears until you can’t remember what the past looked like. You can’t remember anything about it.”
    “I’m not going to forget you or this town. Montpelier’s in my blood.” She softened her voice, forced patience into her words. How could she be harsh with him when he’d been both mother and father to her? “It really is only a few months and you can visit if you like.”
    “Humph.”
    That meant he had his doubts on the timeframe. If Frank Sorrento could use his trade to build a brick wall around Montpelier and dig a moat to secure the residents’ safety, he’d do it. Strangers would remain on the other side of the moat, and townspeople would spend their lives inside the wall. Nothing would change; there would be no blending of ideas or choices that were different from the town of Montpelier, New York. Being a possessive father was one thing, but from the moment Angie’s life fell apart with her runaway groom, he’d become obsessed because her fiancé hadn’t been an outsider like Rourke Flannigan. Johnny Connelly had lived three doors down, rode the same school bus, gone to the same church. He’d been one of them and he’d betrayed Angie, and Frank was not about to forgive that and he damn sure planned to make sure nobody hurt his daughter again.
    Except he couldn’t do that. Nobody could protect her, and that’s why she’d never let any man close enough to hurt her again.
    “Tell me about this town you’re visiting. Magdalena, is it?”
    “Yup.” Angie tucked a few more pairs of socks into the suitcase, counted her underwear. He already knew all about it, had probably searched it on the computer, his new best friend. Interesting how curiosity could lead a man to do something he’d once called a “waste of time.” These days, her father spent hours “wasting time” on his laptop. Who would have guessed? She pushed back a tangle of curls and shot him a look. “You’ve been nosing around so why don’t you tell me what you found out?”
    The smile told her she’d caught him, and when it pulled out the dimples on either side of his mouth, she wished he didn’t reserve it for her, wished he’d use it more often, maybe even on one of his lady friends. Not that they hadn’t tried to win that smile and the heart that went with it, but it wasn’t going to happen. “I tried to get pictures, but there weren’t many, just a grocery store, a bakery, a diner. The place sounds small and cozy, like Montpelier, but you know what that means: gossip and busybodies.”
    “Dad.” Ever since Johnny dumped her, Frank Sorrento had been on the lookout for gossipers who wanted to trash talk his “little girl.” Of course, Angie didn’t bother to tell him she’d done her share of trash talking about her ex, not that it would shock him, but her choice of words might have.
    “Okay, okay, but just be careful.” He lifted a hand, shook a finger at her. “And lock your doors at night.” Pause. “Are you taking your gun?”
    She shook her head. “No. I really don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” She could shoot as well as most of the men on the police force, but she was not going to drive into Magdalena with a 9-millimeter in her suitcase.
    Her father lifted the beer bottle that had been sitting on the table, growing flat. He took a sip, said, “You know the mayor’s a woman.” Nod, another sip. “And there’s an