I’d moved into this amazing old home in the West University part of Houston more than a year ago. The River Oaks house had been too big and too overflowing with memories of our late daddy for me to stay after he died. Kate had already moved in with Terry by then but agreed with my decision to sell the mansion. Maybe I hadn’t unpacked because I was afraid I’d see too much of Daddy inside those boxes, get depressed all over again. God, I missed him, even though he’d been gone almost four years.

Once we’d moved several boxes into the closet so Kate could have her suitcases handy, she and I went downstairs to my office and I laid out the new case.

“Wow,” she said when I was finished. “Very interesting.”

I liked seeing the spark back in her eyes. Kate is always anxious to evaluate new clients. The adoption investigation business seemed like a good move for me after Kate and I learned Daddy lied to us about our own adoption-a way to work through my anger and a way to help others. But Kate’s involvement in my cases was becoming almost as passionate.

She said, “Do you think this girl Emma will meet with you?”

“Not if I mention the production company. So… since you’re in the market for a new home and since I’ve learned Emma Lopez is a Realtor, maybe we should check out some real estate.”

“You think she works on Sunday?”

“I’ll bet they do their best business on the weekend,” I answered.

I felt like I needed to apply to Saint Peter for a passport after I’d called Green Tree Realtors, got Emma on the phone and arranged for Kate and me to meet her in her office on the pretext of a possible house hunt. I mean, the girl sounded plain nice.

Kate and I left Webster and Diva still sleeping and took off in my Camry. Green Tree Realtors was a small operation occupying the corner spot in a strip mall on Bellaire Boulevard. I recognized Emma immediately from her photo after Kate and I walked in. She was staring at a computer screen in a glassed-in office a few feet beyond the receptionist. True to the company name, we were surrounded by “green trees.” Buckets of Nor-folk Island pines were everywhere. The larger ones sat on the floor in corners and between the two simple leather chairs by the front windows. The houseplant-size trees occupied every desk and counter. This was like a trip to a miniature version of the East Texas piney woods.

“We have an appointment with Ms. Lopez,” I told the smiling receptionist.

“Yes. Abby and Kate Rose, right?”

I nodded.

She turned and called to Emma, who’d already seen us. She came out offering a brilliant smile, her hand extended. The bottle-green summer-weight suit and matching shoes complemented her creamy brown skin.

We shook hands and I felt strength in her grip-strength and confidence, two assets, I imagined, that had served her well over the past decade. Once we cleared up which sister was which, we sat near Emma’s computer. The chair arrangement was such that prospective home buyers could check out properties on the Internet.

“What can I show you two today?” Emma said.

Time to get real. “Though my sister may soon be in the market for a home, that’s not why we’ve come. To be honest, I had a visit from a television producer this morning. Venture Productions asked me to work for them, and-”

Emma scooted her rolling chair farther away from us, eyes narrow, the dark brown irises going nearly black with anger. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you people.”

“Hear me out, okay?” I said quickly. “I think you and I might have similar opinions of Venture. I enjoyed about all I could stand of Chelsea Burch.”

“Oh, she’s the nice one. What’s this about, Ms. Rose?”

“Abby wants to help you,” Kate said. “And so do I.”

“You think I haven’t heard that bullshit about a thousand times since I was stupid enough to sign a contract with them? Me with my degree from Rice-you’d have thought I’d know better.”

“Smart people don’t always make smart decisions, but we’ll discuss that later,” I said. “First, you need to be assured I haven’t signed any agreement with Venture. After reading through the documents they gave me, I believe your story is important. I want to help.” I pulled a card from my purse and handed it to her.

“Yellow Rose Investigations,” she read aloud. She looked up. “You’re a private investigator?”

“I specialize in adoptions, and from what Burch tells me, there is a missing child. Your sister, right?”

“They told you about her, too. Figures.” She shook her head in disgust.

“Chelsea Burch mentioned they only told you they knew about your sister recently. Is that why you wish you’d never signed on with Venture?”

“You know something? I was absolutely on cloud nine when they first approached me several months ago. They were offering us the world on a platter. I should have no known there is no free lunch.”

“You felt misled?” I asked.

“Lies by omission are still lies, so yes, I was very upset when I discovered the person who wrote the letter mentioned my missing sister. Anyway, Mayo thought bringing that out on the TV show would make me look even more sympathetic-his word, not mine. I think that’s exploiting me and ridiculous and… and…” Emma bit her lower lip, her eyes bright with tears.

“What bothered you most about this?” Kate said softly. “The fact that they knew, the fact they didn’t tell you they knew, or that you realized this man wasn’t as sincere as you thought?”

Emma blinked away the sheen of tears, and considered the question for several seconds. “All those things, I guess, but something even more important. I never shared the information about Mom’s last baby with anyone-not even my brothers and sister. I had to sit down and tell them one more piece of our mother’s sorry history. Had to dredge up things from my past that I had almost blocked out because I never wanted to remember. And Mr. Mayo, the producer who’d been so nice to me up to that point? He could have cared less how that affected my family.”

Kate nodded. “You have good insights, Emma. How did the kids handle this new information?”

“Amazingly well. They’re great kids. And now I think we’re done here. I have no money to pay a private investigator, and if you let Mr. Mayo pay you to find out about a secret better left buried, don’t expect much cooperation from me.” Emma grabbed at the dark wavy hair that had slipped over the right side of her face. She pulled a handful away from her forehead, her knuckles white with tension.

Obviously a very proud woman. I’d seen this reaction before when clients asked about my charges. Most decent, honest people prefer to pay something, anything, I’d learned. I said, “As far as my fees, my sister is in the market for a new house. Maybe we could use the barter system?”

Emma looked away, but at least she didn’t say no.

Kate said, “Emma, I’m a psychologist. I work with my sister on cases like this, and I can promise you Abby will dedicate herself to your cause, whatever that cause may be. She will be your advocate, not reside in the pocket of a TV show producer. But first we need to know-do you even want to find out what happened to your sister?”

Emma turned to stare into Kate’s eyes and softly said, “To be honest, I want nothing more.”