Despite the high stakes of the coming meeting, Leah found it difficult to focus her thoughts on anything other than Sebastian’s nearness. Muscle laced his frame. She caught an intriguing whiff of cedar and citrus-scented soap. “Will you communicate my position on romance to Ben?” she asked, her voice pitched low.

“I don’t know how I can without revealing that I’ve talked to you about your dating life.”

“An excellent point. However, I would hate for him to put his dating life on hold on my account, seeing as how I’m not a viable option.”

“I think you should explain your position to him.”

“Without provocation? He’s never asked me out. It would read as presumptuous, would it not, if I suddenly announced my dating policy to him, absent of cause?”

“Have you considered the possibility, Leah, that you simply haven’t dated the right man yet?”

“Ms. Montgomery and Dr. Grant?” the receptionist said.

They rose, and the woman led them to Donna McKelvey’s corner office, which was no doubt the envy of her co-workers. The sky backlit her tall leather desk chair like a sunrise behind a throne.

Donna greeted them with firm handshakes. She wore a suit jacket, a red silk top, and a scarf patterned with red, white, yellow, and orange. Likely in her mid- to late-fifties, Donna had a stocky build, a pleasantly angular face, and a dark blond power bob. Had she been auditioning for the role of First Lady, Leah would have cast her at once.

They started with small talk, during which Donna interacted with Sebastian in a way that indicated that she’d like, very much, to poach him from Beckett Memorial.

Sebastian cut to the heart of the matter once they took their seats. “We scheduled this meeting today,” he told Donna, “because Leah was born here.”

The older woman turned an expectant look on Leah.

“I recently submitted my DNA for testing in order to gain insight into my genealogy,” Leah explained. “I learned that I’m not the biological daughter of either of my parents. I think that I was switched at birth here twenty-eight years ago.”

Donna’s smile slipped.

“Here’s the data I collected.” Leah removed a large envelope from her purse. Inside, she’d placed copies of all the relevant documents and DNA tests. She set the envelope on Donna’s desk.

“Occasionally, adoptive parents don’t inform their children that they’re adopted,” Donna said.

“That may be, but that’s not what happened in my situation,” Leah replied. “I called my mother after receiving the DNA test results. She’s always believed me to be her biological daughter. She was so certain the test was faulty that she encouraged me to take it again. Which I did. And now I’m here.”