They Sat Her at the Kids’ Table—Then the CEO Asked for Her by Name

Chapter 14 - The Blue Church

The blue church in Montpelier sat at the top of a hill between a used bookstore and a bakery that smelled like butter even in the parking lot.

It was not actually blue anymore.

The paint had faded to soft gray, but under the eaves, where weather could not reach, Jenna saw strips of the color Robert had named from memory.

Sister Beatrice lived in the former convent behind the church with two retired nuns, a rescue cat named Apostle Paul, and a collection of mystery novels she claimed were for “studying human weakness.”

She was eighty-six, Black, sharp-eyed, and wearing a cardigan the color of marigolds when she opened the door.

She looked at Jenna and said, “You took long enough.”

Jenna blinked.

Emmett, standing beside her, lowered his gaze like a man wisely avoiding nun trouble.

“Sister Beatrice?”

“Obviously.”

“I’m Jenna Whitlock.”

“Obviously again. Come in before the cat judges you from the window.”

Inside smelled of coffee, old wood, and lemon polish. A statue of Mary stood near a bookshelf full of Agatha Christie. The kitchen table had four mugs waiting.

Sister Beatrice poured coffee before anyone asked.

“Your mother called this morning,” she said.

Jenna’s stomach tightened. “What did she say?”

“That you were confused, vulnerable, and manipulated by wealthy strangers.”

Margaret snorted softly.

Sister Beatrice looked at her. “I told Diane manipulation was her field of expertise, not mine.”

Jenna almost laughed, then almost cried.

“Do you know who my biological father is?”

“Yes.”

The directness struck harder than a long explanation.

Jenna sat down.

“I knew your mother before she became Mrs. Whitlock,” Sister Beatrice said. “Diane came here at nineteen, pregnant, frightened, and engaged to Robert. He was not the father, and he knew before the wedding.”

Jenna stared.

“He knew from the beginning?”

“Yes. Diane told him. Give her credit for that much, if you can spare it.”

Jenna was not sure she could.

“The father was a visiting seminarian.”

Emmett looked up.

Margaret’s brows rose.

“A priest?” Jenna asked.

“No. He left before ordination. His name was Thomas Bellamy.”

The kitchen seemed to drop away.

Bellamy.

Audrey’s family.

Margaret closed her eyes. “Oh, this family tree is becoming hostile.”

Jenna gripped the mug.

“Grant Bellamy?”

“His younger brother,” Sister Beatrice said. “Thomas died in a boating accident before you were born. He never knew about you. Diane told Robert, Robert married her anyway, and Thomas’s family was never informed.”

Audrey was not only almost her sister-in-law by marriage.

She was her cousin.

“Does Grant know?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t Diane tell him?”

Sister Beatrice gave her a look. “Child, your mother treated truth like fine china. Brought out only when it impressed guests.”

Jenna let out a startled laugh, then pressed her hand to her mouth.

“Robert loved you,” Sister Beatrice said. “Thomas might have, had he lived. Diane feared that if the Bellamys knew, they would take you or pity you, and she hated both possibilities. So she chose secrecy. Secrecy becomes easier with practice.”

Jenna looked out the window.

The world outside was bright and ordinary. Cars passing. Someone leaving the bakery with a paper bag. A church bell waiting for an hour to become significant.

Emmett said quietly, “This means Audrey is family.”

“More than Nicholas was willing to be,” Sister Beatrice said.

Jenna looked at the nun.

“You say things like Margaret.”

“Margaret charges more.”

Margaret smiled.

Sister Beatrice brought out a small box.

“Robert sent this to me before he died. Said you might come one day. Said if you did, you were to get the whole truth and a cookie.”

Inside were a photograph, a letter from Thomas to Diane, and a tiny silver bracelet engraved J.M.W.

The photograph showed Robert holding newborn Jenna in a hospital chair, eyes red, smile enormous.

On the back he had written:

Blood explains how she arrived. Love explains why she stayed.