Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (namjoon book recommendations .TXT) 📕

and knelt beside me. Bright lights, questions about presidents and what I had for breakfast followed.

Joe’s voice broke through the air. “I’ve got her. I’ll take her to the Emergency Room.” Joe knelt and then helped me stand. Ray moved to my other side and the guys hustled me out the front door and to Joe’s car.

“Lock up when you leave,” Joe called to an officer and then slid into the car.

Chapter Thirty-Two

My dining room table overflowed with family and food. Two lasagnas and a huge salad graced the center of the table, along with two loaves of garlic bread. Four kitchen chairs had been added, turning our table into a fourteen-seater. Momma Sanders sat at the head of the table. To her left sat Liz and Ian, Mike and Anisa, Angela, Joe’s youngest sister, and her husband Christopher. Joe sat at the other end, across from his mom. I sat next to him, followed by Ray and Kristi, Jess, Emily–Joe’s second youngest sister, and my father-in-law, Chuck. The living room held eight squealing cousins, with Drew and Sara in charge.

Angela’s son, Paul, came into the dining room and snagged two pieces of garlic bread.

“Not that I’m complaining, because it was a miracle, but why did you order yearbooks from 1962?” Liz asked.

Joe squeezed my thigh and sent me a look. I didn’t have to say anything. But this house was filled with my real family, and I knew they wouldn’t tell my father.

“When Jess was in AP Bio, she had a project on blood typing.” I swallowed and stared at the half-eaten lasagna on my plate. “My father is not my biological father.”

“I knew it!” Jess pumped her fist. She lowered her hand. “Sorry. I mean, I suspected.”

“Really?” Paul asked.

“Why?” Joe asked Jess.

“He’s got a wicked widow’s peak, and you don’t. Plus, you look a little like your mom, but nothing like your siblings.” Jess looked around the table. “I mean, people I’ve never met before are like, ‘You’re a Sanders, aren’t you?’”

“We are a good-looking bunch,” my father-in-law said.

“Very true,” Jess said and added a smile. “Plus, I don’t know, there’s just a weird vibe whenever we visit.”

“That could be because I asked my mom about it and she admitted he’s not my father but then begged me not to say anything,” I admitted.

Momma Sanders made disapproving noises.

Paul cleared his throat. “Do you want to find him? Your biological father?”

Angela ran her hand up Paul’s arm and squeezed his shoulder.

“I do. I’ve asked Ray to help me find him. After all this, I realized that there is a man out there who may want to know that he has three amazing grandchildren. Who knows, maybe I have more siblings.” I offered a small smile. “I thought I’d start with my mom’s old boyfriends, since I was conceived around her tenth high school reunion.”

A round of ‘Oh’s’ cascaded around the room. Paul looked confused.

“I’ll explain later, buddy.” Christopher patted his back.

Paul nodded to Jess. “Don’t bother, I’ll ask Jess later.”

Angela sent a warning look toward Jess.

Jess mimed locking her lips, but then winked at Paul.

“We’re going to have to order another set of books.” Joe leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I want to bronze those.”

The house phone rang. Jess hopped up to answer it.

Joe held up a glass of wine. “Charlie Sanders, you scared the crap out of the people you love. Do you promise to never get involved in a murder again?”

I raised my glass with one hand and crossed my heart with the other. “Promise.”

Jess poked her head into the room, her hand covering the mouthpiece. “Mom? Greta Van Susteren wants to know if you’ll do an interview?”

Liz wiggled her fingers. “I’ve got this, Charlie. Leave it to me.”

I held Joe’s hand and gave him a loving squeeze. “That’d be great. Thanks, Liz.”

I loved the Sanders family.

My family.

A few weeks later I drove out to the lake to check on our cabin’s progress. The trees were sleeping now, just sticks surrounded by evergreens and tucked under a cloudy sky. Eddie’s cousin and his Uncle Lou were doing the construction. Their trucks were parked in front of what would be our future cabin. A team of guys worked to frame the house.

Ray stepped out onto his new porch landing and waved. “Hey. C’mon over, I’ve got coffee.”

I waved at Lou and headed over to Ray’s. “Morning.”

“It would be if there wasn’t so much noise. Can’t you get them to start at a decent hour, like ten?” He scratched his belly, thankfully covered by a shirt.

“I tell you what, I’ll have them re-gravel your driveway as a thank you for your patience and understanding.”

His lips pursed as he considered my offer. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

I noticed a certificate on his fridge. “You got your private investigator license.”

“Yeah. Seemed like a good idea. I already got a couple of clients thanks to some mouthy broad who insisted on national television that I led the investigation to find Oscar’s murderer.”

“Well, you did. It’s not like I could have done it without you.”

Ray poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me along with Splenda packets.

“Thanks. Do you have cream?”

He opened the fridge. “Kristi likes those flavored creamers. I’ve got French Vanilla and…” He glanced back at me and then checked the front of his sweats. “What?”

“You’ve got Kristi’s creamer in your fridge?” I added the Splenda to my coffee. “That sounds very domestic.”

He lifted a shoulder in a carefree manner. “We’re taking it slow. She likes to have coffee and watch the sunset.”

I looked over his shoulder and into the fridge. “I’ll take the pumpkin spice.”

He shuddered and handed it to me. “That’s just not okay. Pumpkin coffee.” He shook his head. “Nope. Not okay.”

“It’s cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove, not pumpkin. Is that better?”

He winced. “Not really.” He opened his front door to the new porch. “Come on and check out my new four-seasons room. I extended the deck and added windows.”

I followed him out