My Heart Remembers by Kim Vogel Sawyer

she didn’t sit in the room? His discourteous tone and attitude were reprehensible!
    Isabelle looked at Glenn, begging him with her disbelieving expression to speak in her defense.
    “The real truth, or your version of it?” Pushing himself from the brocade-upholstered chair, Glenn crossed his arms and stared at the back of Randolph’s head. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve resented Isabelle.” He slapped the packet onto the desktop. “This all seems to be a well-constructed scheme of revenge.”
    Without turning from the window, Randolph chuckled. “Oh yes, a well-constructed scheme. Of course, I managed to pull all of this together in the week since Mother and Father’s deaths. Or I was wily enough to know they would be killed when a boiler exploded on the paddleboat so I had everything in place, waiting to spring it the moment they were in the grave.”
    Isabelle’s heart pounded. As much as she hated to admit it, Randolph made a good point. She turned to Glenn. His pensive expression sent a chill down her spine. But she was cheered somewhat when he goaded, “I can see you putting something like this into place and biding your time, waiting for the moment you could get even with Isabelle for the affection your parents lavished on her instead of you.”
    Randolph spun around, his eyes sparking with anger. “Yes, they lavished affection on that Irish spawn. Yes, I’ve resented her. I’ll never forget the day my parents returned from their lengthy ‘business trip.’ ” Storming back and forth in front of the wide window like a caged animal, Randolph spewed a hatred that made Isabelle shrink into her chair. “Eighteen months they’d been gone, leaving me in the care of an indifferent staff at an unbearable boarding school. Then they return and offer their surprise. Oh, how Mother beamed as she held out that redheaded brat. ‘Look, darling, you have a baby sister. Aren’t you pleased?’ ”
    Randolph stopped beside the desk and slammed his fist onto the solid surface, his cold glare boring into Isabelle. “Pleased? Wasn’t I pleased ?” A mirthless burst of laughter emphasized his words. “Certainly, I wasn’t pleased! I’d been without my parents for well over a year, and it was clear from the way they fawned over that mewling scrap of humanity that I would never have them again!”
    He took up his pacing once more as Isabelle watched, silent, amazed by the amount of revulsion expressed in Randolph’s words and actions. She had never suspected his resentment went so deep. Certainly this kind of dark emotion could compel him to create a wild tale of foundlings. Her hopes rose.
    “Mother raved on and on about the baby’s similarity in appearance to her dead mother. Her praises made me feel ashamed of my own brown hair and eyes—as if I were second best. She had eyes only for the child, not for the son she’d borne. Did it matter to her that I’d been left motherless and unattended for such a length of time? Of course not—all that mattered was she now had her arms filled with a red-haired, squirming, squalling brat.”
    Randolph stopped and pressed his palm to the window casing, the muscles in his back twitching with the force of his fury. “When Mother took the baby upstairs, I asked Father where he’d found the child. I knew she didn’t belong to Mother—that red hair didn’t fool me for one moment. If Mother had been expecting a child before they left, Father would never have taken her on an ocean journey. Mother was fragile—Father wouldn’t have risked the loss of a baby. So I knew they’d found or purchased the child . . . somewhere.”
    Randolph pushed off from the casing, his focus still aimed outside. His voice dropped to a grating whisper. “Father nearly wrenched my arm from the socket as he told me I was to never ask such a question again. Isabelle was my sister. I would acknowledge her as my sister, or I would suffer the consequences.” Randolph rubbed his