You Can't Hide Theresa Sneed (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

in front of Sally and took her hands. “I’m so terribly sorry, Sally.” She laid her head in Sally’s lap and sobbed.

Elle jumped up and joined them, one arm wrapped around Sally, and the other around Nancy. “Oh, my.”

Breccan stood to leave. “I’ll be going now.”

“Uh, no,” Sam said firmly. The girls all watched, as he approached Breccan in two strides.

“Sorry, Mr. Hancock, er, Hadlock, er, professor, I mean.”

Sam’s voice broke. “Well, son, it seems you’ve uncovered more than just our identities. Sally’s been trying to tell me something for a long time.” He shook his head. “Thanks to you, we now know what’s been bugging her.” He shook his hand. “Thanks.”

“Er, you’re welcome?” Breccan said timidly. He gave Sally a slight wave and stepped to the front door. “Call me when you feel better?”

She nodded.

Twenty-Eight

Returned

A few days had past. Breccan had been over almost every day to check on Sally. Nancy thought he fit right in. It was helpful having a future PI in the house. He picked up on everything, always pointing out Sally’s needs. Sally’s fever was gone, and she just had a tiny cough left. She was well enough to dress and join them at the table for a game of cards.

Breccan was no threat to the family. Their secret was safe with him. He seemed to know the value of honesty and hard work. It was obvious he was more than a friend to Sally, something she’d never had before, perhaps, a brother. Which was just fine with Nancy, who was very much aware that Breccan didn’t think of Sally as his sister. He appeared quite smitten with her. And who wouldn’t be? Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her eyes twinkled when she laughed at his jokes. She was funny and smart, and a force to be reckoned with in cards.

“Again? That’s three times,” Breccan grumbled.

“Four,” Sally corrected him. “I’ve beat you four times.”

He smirked. “Yeah, whatever.”

The phone rang.

“Would you get that, Sally?” Nancy called from the kitchen sink, her hands deep in sudsy water.

Sally had several cards in her hands. “Can you get that Breccan?”

Breccan jumped up to get it. “Hello?” He looked at Nancy. “It’s for you.”

“For me?”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and took the receiver from him, stretching the long cord into the hallway. “Hello?”

“Hi, Nance. It’s Wendy.”

“Hi, Wendy.” At last, they’d hear about the manuscript.

“Hey, I have some news for you.”

“Okay,” she put the phone to her other ear. “Go on.”

“I heard from Sofia.”

Nancy sighed. “Great.”

“I told her I would ask you first, anonymity and all, but she would like to hand deliver the manuscript to you.”

Why didn’t she want to just send it in the mail? Although sending something like that through the postal service did cause Nancy some concern. “Hand deliver it? In Ireland?”

“Yes.”

“Um, okay. When?”

“She can be there within the hour.”

Nancy’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Only if it’s okay with you and your family.”

Wasn’t it highly unusual, even wrong, for someone to come to your home from the women’s sanctuary? Her silence must have triggered Wendy’s next words.

“She knows who you are, and you don’t have to fear her.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“But, if you’d rather not see her, I can have her—”

“Oh, no. Of course, I want to see her.”

“Good. I’ll let her know.”

She hung the phone up and glanced around at her humble cottage, suddenly feeling like the home she had loved was not grand enough for a woman like Sofia—an heiress—one who came and went from the sanctuary by limousine.

Elle picked up on her dismay. “What’s wrong?”

She stared at Elle. “She’s coming . . . Sofia’s coming here, in one hour.” She should have expected Elle’s response.

Elle clapped her hands together. “I finally get my manuscript back.”

Sally had felt well enough to go on a walk with Breccan, and Sam was at work, so only Elle and Nancy were at home when the limousine pulled up in front of the cabin.

Nancy met her at the door. She didn’t care for formalities and threw her arms around Sofia’s neck.

Apparently surprised, Sofia backed up. “I had expected to find you upset,” she said, with a slight smile. “After all, I did run off with your manuscript.” She held it in her hands.

“Silly. It was just a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Sofia’s smile was gone. “It was a selfish move on my part.” She sighed. “Let me guess. Wendy told you otherwise.”

Nancy was stunned. She stepped aside and let Sofia in. “I, um, yes. She told me she’d packed it in your suitcase accidently.”

Sofia shook her head. “She’s always trying to protect me. I took it, Nancy.” She moved to the couch and sat. “It was just that good.” She smiled again, but this time, at Elle. “And I was just that bad.”

Nancy didn’t know what to say. She sat down in the chair across from Sofia.

Sofia didn’t take her eyes off Elle. “You must be the author of this masterpiece.” Her eyes followed Elle’s contour, and she frowned. “Not what I expected.”

Nancy bit down on her tongue, afraid she might say something she shouldn’t. “Yes, this is Elle,” she mumbled.

Sofia tilted her head, still studying Elle. “No. Much better,” she said, with a grin. “I pictured someone a lot older and plumper, but you are quite the beauty.”

“Um, thanks,” Elle said. It was obvious she didn’t know what to make of Sofia.

“There I go again. What do looks matter? Plenty of old, plump women are much better than I.” She gestured to herself with a delicately gloved hand. “I’m quite spoiled, actually.” She sighed. “If I could’ve chosen, I would rather have been born less wealthy. It’s so hard to understand things when one has everything they want anytime they want.”

That would explain why she thought she could just take Elle’s manuscript.

“Anyhow, I am here to ask for your forgiveness.” She looked from Nancy to Elle and then back to Nancy. Her voice softened. “I do hope I haven’t