Almost A Bravo. Christine Rimmer

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      The cottage was a family property built in the ’40s, a rambling collection of rooms, all on one level, with two baths and four bedrooms. Her ancient great-uncle Percy Valentine had given it to her as a gift for her twenty-fifth birthday with the understanding that she would welcome any siblings who needed a place to stay.

      Neither of her sisters’ cars were out in front when she got there, which was good. She had this feeling that if they saw her face, they would know something was wrong and they would demand that she tell them everything. She wasn’t ready to talk about any of it—not until after she’d met with her brothers, anyway.

      Before going inside, she visited Luna and Bunbun, her German angora rabbits. The pair had the run of half of her front porch, which was enclosed, rabbit-proofed and equipped with a roomy hutch they wandered in and out of at will—except on the rare occasions that she needed them caged.

      Needing comfort, she got down on the porch floor with them and indulged in a long cuddle session. She buried her face in their enormous clouds of fur, lavished them with rubs and pets, all the while murmuring silly endearments.

      Once she’d loved them up thoroughly, she filled their hay racks, refreshed their food and water and cleaned their litter boxes. And then, leaving them happily noshing away, she went on into the house.

      It was far too quiet inside. All her fury and misery at what had happened in Astoria that morning came flooding back. She made herself a sandwich, sat at the table and cried for a while.

      She really needed to talk to her best friend. Aislinn and Keely never kept secrets from each other. If Keely was here, Aislinn could get it all out, tell her friend everything.

      But Keely was off on her honeymoon. Confiding in her would have to wait.

      Glumly chewing her sandwich, Aislinn group-texted three of her brothers—Matthias, Connor and Liam—all of whom, so the story went, had been there in Montedoro when she was born. Daniel had been there, too. But he was with Keely in Bora Bora and Aislinn wasn’t bothering him, either. Daniel and Keely had had more than enough challenges to face in the past few months. They deserved their honeymoon in paradise, a beautiful time for just the two of them, 100 percent free of family drama.

      There’s something important I really need to talk to you guys about, she texted her brothers. Beers at Beach Street Brews? Seven sharp. I’m buying.

      Actually, she preferred a little bar called the Sea Breeze that Keely’s mother, Ingrid Ostergard, had bought, remodeled and reopened just a month ago, on Independence Day. But Keely’s mom would be there. And Grace, the youngest of the Bravo siblings, probably would, too. Gracie had started working for Ingrid during the Sea Breeze’s remodeling phase.

      And the fewer family members around for this particular conversation, the better. Aislinn still hadn’t decided how much to tell her brothers. It was all a big mess. She was a mess.

      A mess who had no idea who she really was.

      Her brothers got right back to her. They would all three be there at the brewpub at seven o’clock.

      That made her cry again. Who had such great brothers—big, handsome guys who dropped everything to be there if their sister needed them? They were the best. What if it turned out they really weren’t even hers?

      * * *

      Beach Street Brews was a barnlike place with scuffed wide-plank floors and rows of high-sided wooden booths lining the tin-paneled walls. The acoustics were terrible. On the weekends when they had live music, conversation was impossible.

      But early on a Wednesday evening, it wasn’t so bad. Matthias had gotten there first. Matt was ex-military. Now he worked as a game warden with the Oregon State Police.

      He was out of uniform tonight. When Aislinn slipped into the booth next to him, he poured her a beer from the pitcher he’d already ordered.

      “You okay, Ais?” he asked. “You look kinda down.”

      “Been better,” she admitted.

      His golden-brown eyebrows drew together in concern, but before he could say anything more, Connor and Liam showed up.

      Matt poured them beers and they talked about the warm weather and how Connor was doing over at Valentine Logging. He was running the family company while Daniel was on his honeymoon. Aislinn sipped her beer and watched their dear faces, their gold-kissed eyebrows and tawny hair.

      George Bravo had had dark brown hair and blue eyes. Marie was blue-eyed, too, and a natural blonde. All of their children had blue eyes and none of them had hair any darker than medium brown.

      Except Aislinn.

      Her mom had always claimed that she was special, different. And her dad used to say she took after the Bravo side of the family. He’d had six brothers and a couple of them were dark-eyed with almost-black hair. Her mom used to say she looked French—a little French princess, born in a villa on the Cote d’Azur. Aislinn had loved that, loved being the different one.

      Until today.

      Matt asked, “So, what’s going on with you, Ais?”

      “Is everything okay?” asked Liam, burnished eyebrows drawing together.

      At home, she’d debated whether or not to tell all and decided she ought to be totally honest, offer full disclosure. But now, sitting in that booth, her gaze bouncing from one well-loved face to another, she just couldn’t go there, couldn’t tell them outright that she might not be their sister, that she’d taken their real sister’s place, while the true Aislinn had gone off to California to become Hollywood royalty.

       Later for all that.

      “I’ve been thinking about Mom,” she began. “About the story she always told me, that I was born in Montedoro.”

      “The Montedoro trip.” Connor mock-saluted with his glass of beer. “Mom just had to go there, even though she was almost eight months’ pregnant with you.”

      “And, of course,” Liam added, “she and Dad took us along—not that I remember a thing about it. I was what, three?”

      And Matt had been five, Connor four. Daniel, seven at the time, would probably remember the most of the four of them. Too bad he was off somewhere in paradise with Keely.

      Matt volunteered, “I kind of remember the Prince’s Palace. Huge and white, up there on that hill overlooking the harbor. And I remember meeting Uncle Evan and his wife, the princess.” Their dad’s brother, once an actor, had married Montedoro’s ruling princess. Matt went on, “But I’m drawing a complete blank on the villa we stayed at—the one where you were born, I mean. Didn’t you go to Montedoro to check it out, after college?”

      She licked the beer mustache from her upper lip. “I did, yeah, the summer after my senior year. The old count and countess had died. The people living at Villa Della Torre invited me in for coffee and listened politely when I told them that I’d been born in their house. But they had nothing to tell me. They’d never even met the count or the countess. I stayed at the palace during that trip. Uncle Evan and Her Serene Highness were so nice to me. They remembered your visit all those years before, remembered that Mom had been pregnant, but they СКАЧАТЬ