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she’d adored her always-smiling mother until Trina had drawn her last breath. If this stranger spoke one negative word about her, Venuswould be out the door so fast he’d think she’d fallen off the balcony.
    He didn’t. “So it is possible that your mother never knew my son by any other name than the one he adopted for the stage.”
    “There’s that word again…possible,” Venus said, surprised at the relief flowing through her veins just because the old man hadn’t passed judgment on her mother.
    He continued softly, talking almost to himself. “And it’s also possible she had difficulty reaching him to tell him about you. She must have been desperate.” He glanced at the sky, continuing to formulate his theory aloud. “Perhaps she sent your picture, with the name Violet on the back, to a club in Los Angeles. The letter might have had only his stage name on it. It could have taken a long time for it to catch up to him.” He returned his gaze to Venus. “But when he did receive it, it changed everything. He was coming back.”
    “More could haves and might haves,” she insisted, knowing the man was speculating. She still couldn’t bring herself to believe this scenario. It was too farfetched. Too coincidental.
    Too damned heartbreaking.
    Venus didn’t want to believe her father had died within days…maybe hours…of finding out about her. She didn’t want to think of her mother—who’d said she’d fallen ass over elbows in love with the man when they’d bickered over a cab in the rain—wasting the last eight years of her life waiting for someone who was already long gone. She couldn’t bear to think of Trina pining for a man who’d gotten her message, planned to come back to them…and then died before ever being able to do so.
    No, the whole thing was too sad. And Venus wasn’t into sad.
    Feeling moisture in her eyes, she swung around, turning her back to the three men. She stared out at the sky, blinking rapidly, groping for control. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, a supportive squeeze, a tender offer of reassurance.
    Turning her head, she saw Troy standing there. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer trite, nurturing words. He just let her know she wasn’t alone, with a small nod and a look of intense concern on his face. She took a deep breath, sucking up his silently offered strength. Then, crossing her arms in front of her chest, she faced Max again. “Let me ask you something now.”
    He waited expectantly.
    “If all this is true—and I think that’s a big humongous if—why’d it take almost thirty years to find me?”
    Max glanced at Leo. “My nephew apparently thought of something I never did all those years ago. We assumed Max, my son, had been involved with someone in California. We focused our search efforts there. And, of course, we used his real name.”
    Leo smiled. She thought he was going for self-deprecating, but his expression looked self-congratulatory instead. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think of the possibility of him meeting someone in New York long ago. Nor of having a private investigator search birth records in the northeast to see if Max Longotti or Matt Messina turned up as a father during that time.”
    She immediately latched on to his words. “Birth records. So you have seen a copy of my birth certificate?”
    Leo’s jovial expression never faltered. “No, I left it in the hands of the investigator. He is the one who obtained those records, then tracked you down. I simply utilized the address he provided.”
    Smooth. Reasonable. But she didn’t completely buy it.
    “Is he going to send you those records?”
    A slight narrowing of his eyes indicated his annoyance. “I’m sure I’ll receive them now that the case is concluded.”
    Wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, Venus said, “My foster mother said she does have some paperwork, after all. She’s digging it out and mailing it to my home in Baltimore.”
    Leo stared at her for a