Damien sighed and sat across from her. “Okay, Bailey—shoot. What’d you find?”
“Letters. ” She untied the quaint rickrack and sifted through to find the one she was looking for.
He squinted at them in disbelief. “I’m being denied a booty call for a bunch of old letters? Come on, Bail. ” He reached across to take her hand and swept his thumb in circles along her palm. “I’ve gotta get back soon. We’re wasting time. ”
Normally, her blood would heat at that touch, but she had things on her mind. She tugged her hand free. “No, really. They’re not just any old letters. They’re from my great-great-great-grandmother, Sorrow Crabtree. ”
“Poor woman,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table.
His tone drew her eyes up. “Huh?”
“Sorrow Crabtree…that’s some name. ” There was a short bzz-bzz sound, and he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He considered it for a second before putting it on the table.
“No, listen. There’s a story behind it. ” She’d heard it since birth. She guessed it was the consolation prize—she got a weird name but a good story. “There’s a reason behind the name. Her father had loved his wife so much, that when she died in childbirth, he named their child Sorrow. ”
“Huh. Is that what’s in the letters?” Damien reached distractedly for them, and something about the gesture had her feeling protective.
“Wait,” she said, scooping up the stack before he did. She needed to make him understand the importance. She wanted somebody to get it—she’d tried to explain to her mom, but she hadn’t wanted to listen either. “Let me read a bit. Get this: it’s dated April 1851. Can you imagine?”
“Cool,” he said automatically, but it didn’t sound like he meant it.
“But wait. That’s not the crazy thing. Listen. ” Scanning down the page, she found the line she wanted and read, “‘You may be fancy, Mister Buck Larsen, but my mama told me to stay away from men like you. ’”
She looked up at him expectantly and caught him stealing a surreptitious glance at the screen of his cell, checking the time. Apparently Damien had a lot more time for sex than he did for old letters.
“Buck Larsen,” she repeated, emphasizing every syllable. In the ranks of Old West legends, Buck Larsen was right up there with men like Kit Carson, or Davy Crockett, or Daniel Boone even. Pioneer, frontiersman, and later, author and statesman—he was a California legend. She jabbed the table with her finger. “He lived here. In Sierra Falls. During the gold rush. Before he became, you know, Buck Larsen. ”
A light finally clicked on in Damien’s eyes. “Cool,” he said, and this time it sounded like he meant it.
“I know,” Sorrow said triumphantly. “But it gets better. ” She rifled through the pages. “Every single one of these is written to him, from Sorrow Crabtree. I guess she was too chicken to send them. Ah”—she placed one sheet at the top—“here’s where it gets really good. ‘If I’d told you the boy was yours, would you have come back to me?’”
“Wow, they had a kid? That is pretty cool, Bailey. ”
“Not just any kid,” said Sorrow. “Don’t you get what this means? It means I’m related to Buck Larsen. ”
Her mother appeared at the door. “She tell you her news?”
“Hi, Edith. ” Damien stood to greet her, as well-mannered and articulate as his parents. Dabney and Phoebe Simmons were the Sierra Falls answer to royalty, and they’d raised their prince right. “Your daughter was just telling me. Very exciting. ”
“We didn’t know before, who the father was. ” As Sorrow spoke, she watched Damien pocket his phone in a way that told her he was about to make his escape.
She felt an unexpected breath of relief, and the reaction surprised her. But she wanted to be alone to finish her work so she could curl up with her great-great-great-grandmother.
Her mom noted the same thing, and said, “One favor before you leave, hon?”
Damien tipped an imaginary hat. “Anything for you, ma’am. ”
“I’m late for my hair appointment, but the car won’t start. ”
Sorrow shook her head, marveling. First the roof, now this. “When it rains, it pours. ”
“I’ve got cables in my car,” Damien said at once. “I’ll be right there. ”
As her mom went for her coat, Sorrow repeated a thank-you. Damien seemed in the business of saving her family’s collective hides.
“No prob. I’m happy to jump-start the car, seeing as I’m not getting jumped in here. ” He winked and gave her a quick kiss. “Seriously, Bailey. It’s all good. Congrats on those letters—pretty cool. Don’t forget us little people when you’re a famous California icon. ” He shouldered into his coat. “You need anything—and I do mean anything—just give a call. ”
And with that last flirty comment, her boyfriend breezed out the door.