"Also Mexican."

Churchill nodded. "That didn't go over big with your grandfather. In those days, marriage between brown and white was frowned upon."

"That's a nice way of putting it," I said dryly, aware that it had probably been an outright disgrace. "Knowing my mother, the Romeo and Juliet scenario probably made the whole thine even more attractive."

"She was a romantic." Churchill agreed, tucking the photo back in his wallet with extreme care. "And she had a passion for your daddy. Her father warned if she ran off with him, not to bother coming back. She knew the family would never forgive her."

"Because she fell in love with a poor guy?" I demanded in outrage.

"It wasn't right," Churchill admitted. "But times were hard."

"That's no excuse."

"Diana came to me the night she ran off to get married. Your father waited out in the car while she came in and said goodbye and gave back the ring. I wouldn't take it. I told her to trade it for a wedding present. And I begged her to come to me if she ever needed anything."

I understood what those words must have cost him, a man of such enormous pride.

"And by the time my father died," I said, "you'd already married Ava."

"That's right."

I was quiet then, sifting through memories. Poor Mama, struggling to make it on her own. No family to go to. no one to help. But those mysterious disappearances, when she would be gone for a day and then there would be food in the refrigerator and the bill collectors stopped calling...

"She came to you." I said. "Even though you were married. She visited you and you gave her money. You helped her for years."

Churchill didn't need to say anything. I saw the truth in his eyes.

I squared my shoulders and forced myself to ask the big question. "Is Carrington yours?"

Color mounted in his weathered face, and he gave me an offended glare. "You think I wouldn't take responsibility for my own child? Let her be raised in a damn trailer park? No, there's no chance she's mine. Diana and I never had that kind of relationship."

"Come off it, Churchill. I'm not an idiot."

"Your mother and I never slept together. You think I'd do that to Ava?"

"Sorry, but I don't buy it. Not if she was getting money from you."

"Honey, I don't give a f**k-all if you believe me or not," he said evenly. "Not saying I wasn't tempted. But I was physically faithful to Ava. I owed her at least that much. You want me to take a paternity test, I'll do it."

That convinced me. "Okay. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm just...it's hard to accept that my mother went to you for money all those years. She always made such a big deal about never taking handouts from people and how I needed to be self-reliant when I grew up. That makes her a big fat hypocrite."

"It makes her a parent who wanted the best for her child. She did the best she could. I wanted to do a lot more for her, but she wouldn't let me." Churchill sighed, suddenly looking weary. "I didn't see her at all the year before she died."

"She was wrapped up with a guy she was dating," I said. "A real scumbag."

"Louis Sadlek."

"She told you about him?"

Churchill shook his head. "Read the accident report."

I stared at him, studied him, considering his fondness for grand gestures. "You watched the funeral from a black limo," I said. "I always wondered who it was. And the yellow roses...you've been sending them all these years, haven't you?"

He was quiet as I continued to put the pieces together. "I got a deal on her casket," I said slowly. "That was you. You paid for it. You got the funeral director to go along with it."

"It was the last thing I could do for Diana." he said. "That, and keep an eye on her daughters."

"Keep an eye on us how?" I asked suspiciously.

Churchill kept his mouth shut. But I knew him too well. Part of my job was helping to organize the rivers of information that flowed to Churchill. He kept tabs on businesses, political issues, people...he was always getting reports of one kind or another in deceptively innocuous tan envelopes. "You weren't spying on me, were you?" I asked, thinking, Sweet Jesus, these Travis men are making me paranoid.

He shrugged a little. "I wouldn't call it that. I just checked in on you now and then."

"I know you, Churchill. You don't just 'check in' on people. You're a meddler. You..." I sucked in a quick breath. "That scholarship I got from the beauty school...you did

that too. didn't you?"

"I wanted to help you."

I shot up from the sofa. "I didn't want any help! I could have done it on my own. Damn you. Churchill! First you were Mama's sugar daddy and then you were mine, except I didn't even have a choice about it. Do you know how stupid that makes me feel?"

His eyes narrowed. "What I did for you doesn't take away a thing from what you accomplished. Not a single thing."

"You should have left me alone. I swear, Churchill, you're going to take back every cent you spent on me, or I'll never speak to you again."

"Fair enough. I'll take the scholarship money out of your salary. But not the money for the casket. I did that for her, not for you. Sit down, we're not done talking. I got more to say."