Page 4 of Not My Daughter (Eva Rae Thomas FBI Mystery #17)
I swirled the pale golden champagne in my glass, the bubbles catching the fading light as laughter erupted from the cluster of old friends gathered around me. The crisp, cool liquid was a welcome contrast to the warmth that wrapped around us like a blanket in the luxurious living room of Paradise Key Private Resort.
"Mom!" The voice cut through the convivial chatter, a sharp note of joy unmistakable in its timbre.
Olivia burst into the room, her athletic build propelled forward by an energy that seemed to reverberate off the walls. She was all wide smiles and sun-kissed skin—a sight for sore eyes. She had been gone—away at college for months, the longest we had ever been away from each other. I had missed her terribly.
"Olivia," I breathed, setting down my glass with a soft clink against the tabletop.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, though her grin told a different story—one where apologies had no real place.
"You can never be an interruption," I assured her, standing to wrap her in a hug that felt like coming home after too long away.
"Look at you! You look amazing; you’re glowing." My words were muffled in her short hair.
“Mom, you've no idea how much I've missed you.” Her voice vibrated against my shoulder, a tremor of emotion bared only in these safe moments.
“Did you see the bungalow yet?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t been back there yet. I think someone took my bag there, though.”
"Let's get you settled in," she pulled back, her hands gripping mine with gentle purpose. "Wait 'til you see the bungalow. It's something else."
"Lead the way," I replied.
We navigated through the throng of guests, my daughter's presence like a beacon, guiding me with ease.
“It’s right down here.”
The path to our cabin wound through a lush maze of tropical flora, the air heavy with the perfume of blooming jasmine. Olivia's stride was sprightly, her excitement manifesting in the animated cadence of her voice.
"Everyone's been amazing, Mom," she said, a laugh threading through her words. "And the snorkeling—God, you should see the reefs!"
"Better than the pictures?" I asked, matching her pace.
"Infinitely." Her eyes sparkled.
"Sounds like paradise found," I quipped, noting the impeccable landscaping that framed our walk.
"Totally," she affirmed. A pair of tiki torches flanked the path ahead, their flames dancing against the onset of dusk.
"Olivia!" The call sliced through the warm air, and there he was: Mark—the birthday boy—emerged from around a bend, sunlight gilding his honey-blond hair. With the confident grace of a panther, he closed the distance between us.
"Mark!" Olivia's face split into a wide grin as they collided in an enthusiastic embrace.
"Look at you two, inseparable as always," I said, my heart warming at the sight.
"Can't help it," Mark responded, his smile reaching his warm brown eyes. "She's the sister I never had."
"Adopted by choice," Olivia added, nudging Mark playfully with her elbow.
"Adoption papers are in the mail," Mark joked.
"Come on, we have to show Mom the view from the bungalow," Olivia urged, linking her arm with mine.
"Prepare to be dazzled," Mark said, leading the way with a sashay that seemed to command the very ground he walked upon.
"Wouldn't dream of anything less," I replied, my attention riveted not just by the grandeur of the island but also by the intriguing dynamics at play among its guests.