CHAPTER THREE
Angela dumped the dough out onto the stainless steel work surface in the back of the bakery, then hefted the large metal bowl back to the mixer standing next to the wall.
Returning to the table, she used a dough scraper to portion out the dough, weighing each piece on the scale. It was work she did six days a week now and had done for many years before that but on a smaller scale. The familiar movement was calming.
Sandra might not have left her with many happy memories, but the woman had equipped her with knowledge that had enabled her to get a job after leaving the homestead.
If only her boss wasn’t such a not-so-great person.
When the ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts, Angela hesitated before answering it. She knew Patty wouldn’t like it if she chatted too long during work hours.
However, ever since Kiara had been making phone calls trying to get hold of Cole Halverson, Angela had answered every call. Regardless of whether she recognized the number or not.
She wiped her hands on her apron, then pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.
“Hello?”
“Good morning.” The man who greeted her had a deep voice that resonated through the phone, rich and commanding, with a hint of gravel that made her picture someone tall and broad-shouldered standing at military attention. “Am I speaking with Angela Reynolds?”
“Uh… yes. I am she… uh, I’m her.” Angela rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. “I am Angela Reynolds. How… how can I help you?”
“Did you phone Cole Halverson wanting information about his date for a gala?”
Technically, it had been Kiara, but Angela had been there for each conversation. “Yes. I think I look a lot like her.”
“Is there a reason you’d automatically think you might be related to her instead of just seeing an uncanny resemblance in a stranger?”
Angela sank down on one of the stools in the bakery’s kitchen, wishing that Kiara was there.
“I’m adopted,” she said. There didn’t seem to be a reason to not be honest about that. “So I thought maybe I had a sibling somewhere.”
“Would you be willing to take a DNA test to confirm whether or not you are related to her?”
“I suppose.” Angela hesitated. “Are you related to her?”
“No, I’m a friend of the family. They asked me to make contact, just in case it really is simply a coincidence. They don’t want to get their hopes up until they have confirmation.”
Hope flared in her heart. Had they been looking for her? “Oh. Okay. That makes sense.”
“I’d like to meet with you in person, if possible.”
Angela hesitated. “Um… sure.”
“And do you have a couple of minutes to answer a few questions?”
She glanced toward the doorway that led to the front of the bakery. Patty wasn’t there, but her niece was manning the shop, and she reported everything back to her aunt.
“I’m at work at the moment, and I… uh… shouldn’t be on the phone for very long.”
“That’s understandable,” the man said, apparently not upset by her putting him off. “When would be a better time for us to talk?”
“Maybe around four?” If he agreed to the time, Kiara would be there when he called.
“Four would be fine. I’ll give you a call then.”
“Um… what’s your name?” Angela hoped he’d answer her question because she knew Kiara would want that information.
“I’m Jude Kessler,” he said readily enough.
Angela immediately began formulating an image in her head. She wished he’d told her a bit more about himself. But all that she really needed to know was that the woman with Cole Halverson had trusted Jude Kessler enough to send him to check her out.
"I’ll talk to you later,” Jude said.
When he cut off the call, Angela stared at the phone for a long moment before getting back to her feet. Sliding the phone into her pocket, she made her way over to the sink to wash her hands before returning to her dough.
Once she had the dough all prepped for baking the next morning, she slid the pans into the baking racks in the refrigerated room. The bakery had become well-known for the cinnamon buns Angela made, so it was something she did every day.
“Are there more muffins, Ang?” Jenn asked as she stepped through the doorway.
“Yep.” Angela helped her carry a couple of trays of muffins to the bakery cabinet in the front.
Angela made note of other things that were running low, then went to the back to get what they had. Making the cinnamon rolls was the last thing she did each day. The bakery was open until three, but since she started at four each morning, Angela only worked until noon.
It was New Year’s Day, but Patty had insisted they still open. Kiara was also working at her cashier’s job at the gas station, so she wouldn’t be home until three.
The walk from the bakery was frigid, and Angela was glad to step into the warmth of the house. She popped in to check on Miss Ida, then made her way down to the apartment.
She shed her coat and hung it on a hook near the door, shivering as she rubbed her arms. The basement apartment was never truly warm, but after the biting cold outside, even the slightly chilly air felt like a blessing.
Angela checked her phone—still three hours and forty minutes until Jude would call back. Three hours and forty minutes to prepare herself. To figure out what she wanted to say. She needed Kiara's advice, but that would have to wait.
Moving to the kitchenette, Angela filled the electric kettle and switched it on.
As she waited for the water to boil, she went into the small bedroom to change out of her work clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She also pulled on a pair of thick fluffy socks since her feet were always cold.
When she returned to the kitchen, the kettle had already clicked off. She began to prepare the tea. Selecting her favorite mug, dropping in the tea bag, pouring the steaming water. The familiar movements calmed her. She cupped the warm mug between her palms as she settled onto the couch.
She picked up her journal from the end table and opened it to where she’d put the printout of the photograph of the woman.
Carefully unfolding it, Angela gazed at the elegant woman in the photograph, so poised and confident on the arm of a famous athlete. How could someone like that be related to her—a girl who'd never even finished high school properly? Who lived in a basement and worked for minimum wage?
But what if she doesn’t want me in her life? What if I'm not good enough for her world?
The questions swirled in her mind like the steam rising from her tea.
Angela folded the paper and put it back in the journal, then closed it and set it aside. The waiting was going to drive her crazy.
She spent the next hour tidying their already spotless apartment, then tried to read, but the words blurred together on the page. Every few minutes, she found herself checking her phone for the time.
When the door finally opened and Kiara burst in, stamping snow from her boots, Angela nearly jumped out of her skin.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Kiara said, unwinding her scarf. "What's wrong?"
"Someone called," Angela said, her voice barely above a murmur. "About the picture. About… her."
Kiara froze, one boot half off her foot. "What? When? What did they say?"
"It was a man. He said his name was Jude Kessler. He's a friend of the family." Angela twisted her hands together. "They want me to take a DNA test."
"Oh my goodness, Angie." Kiara kicked off her remaining boot and hurried over, dropping into the chair across from Angela. "Tell me everything. Word for word."
Angela recounted the conversation as best she could remember, watching Kiara's eyes grow wider with each detail.
"They're taking this seriously," Kiara said when Angela finished. "If they're willing to pay for a DNA test, they must think there's a real possibility you’re related."
"Or they just want to hand me definitive proof that I’m not the woman’s sister."
"Angie." Kiara reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Don't do that. Don't assume the worst before you even know what's happening."
Angela looked down at the time on her phone. “I guess I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? So it’s better to just assume the worst.”
“Angie, this might be your chance to get out of here.”
Angela shook her head. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said that this was my chance to get out of here. That’s not going to happen if I have to leave you behind.”
Kiara slouched back in her seat. “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“I’m not leaving here if it means leaving you behind,” Angela said again. “We’re already at that bridge, and I’m telling you that this is how we’re crossing it.”
Kiara gave a huff of laughter, and sat forward to lean her arms on the table. Her hazel gaze sparkled with love, something that Angela felt for her as well.
It was why she refused to consider any future without Kiara at her side. They might not be biological sisters, but Angela couldn’t imagine her life without Kiara. They’d been through a lot together, and Angela wasn’t sure she would have made it through so well if it hadn’t been for Kiki.
"We'll figure it out together," Kiara said softly. "We always do."
The clock inched its way to four o’clock with infuriating slowness. Kiara made grilled cheese sandwiches that neither of them had much appetite for, while Angela paced between the kitchen and the living area, checking her phone every few minutes.
At exactly four o'clock, the phone rang.
Both women froze, staring at the device on the table. On the second ring, Kiara nodded encouragingly at Angela.
"Hello?" Her greeting sounded weak, so she cleared her throat, then repeated it before she tapped the screen to put it on speakerphone.
"Good afternoon, Angela. This is Jude Kessler."
His voice was just as she remembered—deep and steady, with a quality that somehow made her feel like he could be trusted. "Hi."
"Do you have a few minutes to talk now?"