Read Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance) for Free Online Page B

her blue gingham apron as she came forward.
    “Hello again,” Whitney said. “I’m really in need of a washroom. I mean, first, before I can think about food.”
    The couple exchanged glances, then simultaneously cocked heads toward a door a few feet away. Whitney opened it and stepped into a well-used living room that she guessed was the owner’s quarters. Mabel followed.
    “Over there.” Mabel pointed to a small door behind a threadbare brown-and-gold-plaid couch. Surveying the room, Whitney felt as if she’d been caught in a time warp and catapulted back into the fifties. Amazing! The whole town was a photographer’s paradise.
    The elderly woman planted herself on the couch, arms folded across her chest, looking as if she planned on staying for the duration of Whitney’s visit to the washroom. And she did.
    Heading back to the restaurant with Mabel nipping at her heels, Whitney said, “I’m going to be here for a day or two and I was hoping you could tell me a little about the town.” Last night she’d already told Mabel she was a photographer doing research, so her wanting to know more about the community shouldn’t come as any big surprise.
    “The special’s vegetable beef soup,” the old man piped up from the kitchen as the two women returned. He held the pot lid aloft. “With barley. And it’s mighty good stuff.” He inhaled with great gusto before setting the lid back on the kettle.
    “Charley! I don’t need any more of your help today,” Mabel reprimanded, then affectionately shooed him out of her way. She turned to Whitney. “What would you like, young lady? As Charley already said—” she scowled at the man from under silver brows “—vegetable beef is the soup of the day. Made it myself.”
    Mabel lifted the cast-iron lid and stirred the heavy broth. The rich beefy aroma wafted through the air and Whitney’s stomach growled.
    “Grilled cheese sandwich is good to go with it,” Mabel added before Whitney could answer.
    “Sounds great to me.” Whitney claimed a weathered wood stool at the counter and smoothed back a few stray hairs. She’d had no dinner last night and no breakfast this morning. She was so hungry she could probably eat old car tires right now.
    “Charley, set the lady up so she can eat,” Mabel ordered, winking at Whitney as she took a sandwich wrapped in cellophane from the fridge, then set a battle-scarred griddle on the stove top.
    Charley placed a glass of water in front of Whitney.
    “And so she can ask her questions,” Mabel finished.
    Whitney smiled. “I met a man—Rhys Gannon. Can you tell me about him?”
    Mabel frowned. “Why?”
    “I’m a photographer doing research on motorcycles for a book. Since he’s in the business…I thought he might be able to help. And if I knew more about him, that might help, too.” She played with her water glass.
    Mabel flipped the sandwich. “Townsfolk don’t cotton to talkin’ about their own to outsiders,” she said, her eyes fixed on the pan.
    O-kaay. So much for questions about Gannon. If she pressed, she might seem to have ulterior motives. “Sure, I understand. I just wondered, that’s all.”
    “In this town, we help each other out and keep our mouths shut. We’re family. How ’bout yourself? You got family somewhere?”
    Now, that was a question she didn’t want to answer. “I’m not married,” she said quickly, then asked, “How about telling me a little about the town then? The history.”
    Luckily both Mabel and Charlie were loquacious about the history of Estrade, and they never came back to the painful subject of Whitney’s background. The less she thought about it, the better.
    Mabel and Charley weren’t married, Whitney learned, but Charley had been hanging around for more than thirty years mining for gold. Whitney guessed the old geezer had been trying to stake a claim on Mabel for a long time, too.
    But nothing she’d learned had gotten her any closer to finding SaraJane. After