Finally the silence was broken by Laura. "Tinkerbelle?" she whispered.

Bella shrank back. "What did you call…? How could you know? WHO ARE YOU?"

"Oh my God…" Laura briefly closed her eyes, then opened them again. "I’m – I’m – If your mother is Linda Scarpetti…I’m your aunt Laura. Linda’s sister…twin sister."

"My – aunt?" Bella faltered, and pressed the back of one hand against her lips for a moment. "I didn’t know – I never knew I had – I didn’t know Mom had a sister." She took one tentative step towards Laura, then another. "You look just like her."

"Twins generally do," Laura observed with a smile. "At least identical twins do."

"How did you know my nickname?" Bella asked. Then, wildly hopeful: "Is my mother here? Is this why she came to Bayport, to see you?"

Oh my Lord! Frank, standing mesmerized by this strange turn of events, felt shock reverberate through him as he realized the news they would have to break to the young girl. This is awful – how can Mom answer that?

"I saw your picture in your mother’s wallet," Laura was answering Bella’s queries carefully. "And she mentioned a ‘Tinkerbelle’ in a message she left on our answering machine. I just put two and two together, that’s all. Your real name is—"

"Isabelle." the girl replied. "But I don’t ever go by that – can you imagine? People might call me Izzy, or something awful like that! I go by ‘Bella’ – that means ‘beautiful’ in Italian, according to my dad." There was a sudden quivering of Bella’s lips as she said the last words.

"It does, yes." Laura said steadily. Frank wondered how in the world she was keeping herself in control. "And it’s certainly a suitable name for you." She smiled at her niece warmly, and Bella smiled back, but tears were gathering in Laura’s eyes. Isabelle? Oh Linda – you named her after Mother! You may have been angry, but you didn’t forget…and you may have forgiven!

"But Mom always calls me Tinkerbelle." Bella was continuing. "She seems to think I look like that Disney fairy, from Peter Pan." The girl rolled her eyes. "I suppose if I wore my hair in a bun on the top of my head and grew some wings…."

"Bella—" Frank moved toward her hesitantly. "If your mom and my mom were sisters, that would make us cousins – first cousins! And I found you at the police station….Talk about coincidence!"

She spared him a glance, and suddenly the blue eyes were twinkling; Frank realized with a start that Bella was a very pretty girl indeed. Wow, what’s Joe going to say when he realizes she’s a relation?

"I guess we are, at that." she admitted. "It’s odd to think of having a cousin – I haven’t any others – and a boy cousin is even stranger. And you said you have a brother, too? Another cousin?" I guess he isn’t a lech like I thought he was, after all, if he’s my cousin…well, I suppose he could be a lech, but not for me.

"That’s right." Got to get her away from the subject of her mother, somehow…! "Joe’s younger than I am – he just turned 18. I’ll be 20 in November. You’re…?"

"Seventeen." Her forehead knotted as she took in his reaction to this statement. "I am seventeen, I just look younger! It’s because I’m short!" She slid her backpack from her shoulder and stood arrow-straight, attempting to appear taller.

"Maybe so." He gazed at her, taking in the piquant face with its pointed chin, wide-spaced eyes, and a mouth that looked to be made for smiling, although she hadn’t done much of that lately. He could see the resemblance between Bella and his mother – and between Bella and Linda. "Maybe so."

Bella turned back to Laura. "Please, do you know where my mother is? Is she here? I’ve been trying to find her ever since late last night. I found a bus schedule with Bayport marked on it, and I took a chance and came here. She was coming to see you, right?"

"She’s – not here, Bella." The words were barely audible.

"But she was here!" the girl insisted. "You said she left a phone message, and that you’d seen my picture. So she had to have been here!"

"She was here." Laura admitted. She cast an anguished glance at Frank, then forced herself to continue. "Bella, dear – I’m afraid I have some very bad news."

"What is it? Has something happened to my mom?" Bella clasped her hands together tightly, staring at Laura in confusion and fright.

"Bella – oh my dear! – when Frank and his brother came home yesterday afternoon, they found—" Laura paused and swallowed. "—they found your mother here. She apparently came here while we were gone—"

"Was she all right? She was sick…."

"No, darling, she wasn’t all right. Bella, she was – dead."

The fateful words hung in the air. Bella stood blinking at her aunt, looking bewildered.

"Dead?" she repeated uncomprehendingly.

"Bella, I’m so very sorry—" Laura began. She walked over to the girl and tried to hug her, but Bella shrugged herself out of the embrace.

"Dead? My mother – died?" The blue eyes were pools of water again, but none had spilled over yet. She stared beseechingly at Laura, then turned her gaze to Frank. "You’re sure she’s not here…you’re sure she’s dead?"

Frank’s heart ached with pity. "Bella, we’re really sorry. It was a shock to us too " We didn’t know she existed before yesterday, and we didn’t know you existed until just now!

She turned away abruptly and walked back to the window, staring out at the sunlit yard. Frank, watching intently, could see the tense way she was holding her shoulders, and realized she was exerting every ounce of self-control she possessed. She’s trying not to cry. Poor little kid!

Laura was the one in tears now. Tears of grief over her suddenly-found and suddenly-lost sister, and tears of sympathy and compassion for the bereft young girl. Frank went to his mother’s side and wrapped a comforting arm about her.

"Mom, it’ll be okay…."

Bella turned back to face them, her eyes still swimming with unshed tears and her jaw set grimly. "I – I think I need to get out of here. Just for a little bit—" She took several quick steps in the direction of the door. "I – I can’t—"

Her choked words were interrupted by the slamming of the back door and the sounds of quick footsteps.

"Frank? You home? Jack needs you at the airfield—"

Bella jumped as if she had received an electric shock, then resumed her almost-frantic flight. Before either Frank or Laura could move to forestall her exit, she was nearly through the door – and then she met an irresistible force in the figure of Joe Hardy, who appeared in the doorway just in time to receive the impact of her small body.

"Unnh! What the—" he began, instinctively catching her shoulders and pushing her away.

"Get out of my way!" she stormed at him. "Leave me alone!"

"Wha—but I—"

But before the stupefied Joe could finish a sentence, Bella was spiraling to the next level of grief. Gone was the denial that had allowed her to keep her composure in this room full of "familiar" strangers. In its place came an all-encompassing white-hot anger; anger against the whole world. She threw her small fists against Joe’s chest. "DAMN you! How could you do this to me?

Joe stared down at her in bewilderment, then looked at his mother and brother. The anguish in all three faces told him this was serious, even though he didn’t know the full story. Whoever this strange girl was, that was beating on him, she wasn’t likely to hurt him, and it was better to let her vent in a safe environment. Her words were obviously not targeted at him. He didn’t stop her as she continued to pound against his chest, although he winced slightly a couple of times. As little as she is, she’s probably hurting herself way more than she’ll hurt me!

The tirade continued as she unleashed her fury on the unseen target of her wrath.

"WHY? Why did you leave? If you had stayed we could have gotten you some help, but no, you were too proud! Too independent! And too selfish! You promised me – we promised each other – we could get through anything as long as we were together….But you left! You left me! I didn’t even get to say goodbye – AGAIN!" She shrieked the words, frantically striking Joe harder; he grunted at the impact, but stoically held himself firm, his arms loosely encircling her. "If only Daddy….Why couldn’t you just trust him? He wasn’t out to hurt you….he could have helped….I hate you! I HATE you!"

With the last three words, it was as if a dam had burst, and she began crying hysterically, still flailing against Joe’s chest. "Hate you….hate you…." The words were muffled against his shirt front as he held her tighter. But as quickly as the tears had begun, they ended. Suddenly, it seemed as if someone had pulled a plug and disconnected the emotional outburst. The power that had fueled her anger was gone as quickly as a turned-off light bulb, and she sagged against him, her body shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Then abruptly, she became deathly still, so quiet and still that Joe looked down at her in alarm.

Spent from her emotionally charged outburst, the girl’s strength and energy had depleted rapidly, and she went limp in his supporting embrace, her head pillowed against his arm. Joe felt a lump rise in his throat as he gazed at her. Apparently, she had fallen asleep in his arms, just that quickly. Only the slightest quiver of her lower lip gave evidence that the avalanche of emotions was only temporarily held at bay, waiting impatiently for another chance to emerge.

Carefully, the younger Hardy lifted her into his arms and cradled her against him; amazed at how light she was. He looked over at Frank and Laura, and was frightened to see his mother sobbing as bitterly against her elder son’s chest as she had cried the day before. Joe’s troubled gaze met Frank’s.

"What’s going on?"

"I’ll explain in a minute," Frank murmured, rocking Laura gently and patting her back. "Why don’t you carry her upstairs and put her on the bed in the guest room?"

"Okay." Joe pivoted slowly, and walked from the room, carrying his burden carefully so as not to awaken her, although he doubted that anything short of being dropped down the stairs would accomplish that. When he returned, he found Laura had regained her composure, and was sitting in her favorite spot on the sofa, looking very sad.

"Joe, would you take her backpack up and put it in her room?" Laura gestured toward the abandoned pack lying on the floor. Joe nodded and did so; by the time he once more regained the family room, he wasn’t about to accept any more excuses.

"Somebody tell me what’s happened and who that little Roman candle is!" he demanded. He paused, remembering the reason for his errand home. "Frank, Jack needs you to fly a run this afternoon – that’s why I came home."

Frank frowned. "Jack needs me? I thought April was doing the afternoon runs today."

"She was supposed to," Joe replied. "but yesterday they had a picnic. Jack apparently has a ‘famous’ potato salad recipe…probably the only thing he knows how to make!…and he made it for them. Well…you know how hot it was yesterday. April thought Jack had put the potato salad in the refrigerator – and Jack thought April had put it in. Neither one of them did – and April is now so sick to her stomach she thinks she’s on her deathbed." A slight smile tugged at the corners of Joe’s mouth. Turnabout is fair play, April – although I’m sorry you’re sick, it only seems like justice….

"Poor April!" Laura exclaimed.

"Obviously, she can’t fly her delivery run, and Jack’s hoping you can do it." Joe finished with a questioning lift of his eyebrows in Frank’s direction.

"Sure, I can do it." Frank checked his pocket for his car keys. "I’ll head on over right now."

"Hold it, you aren’t going anywhere until you explain things!" Joe held up a detaining hand. "Jack doesn’t need you until one o’clock; the plane’s already loaded, thanks to Jason and me, and it’s a short flight. So let me in on the secret, please."

"She’s my sister’s daughter, Joe." Laura said quietly. "Her name is Bella, and she’s your cousin."

Joe’s mouth dropped open in shock. "My cousin? That little spitfire is related to us?"

Frank chuckled at his brother’s reaction. "I think she fits in real well, Joe – in fact, I think there’s a definite resemblance between you and her. Blonde hair – blue eyes – same kind of temper—"

"Now wait a minute!" Joe protested. "I don’t throw temper tantrums like that—"

"You weren’t just told that your mother died yesterday." Laura said softly, and her words made Joe’s remarks stick in his throat.

"Oh, Lord….No wonder she was hysterical." he murmured. "Poor little kid."

"Not so little." Frank was intent on catching Joe up on each detail he could think of. "She says she’s seventeen." He grinned wickedly at Joe’s widened eyes. "Too bad she’s related, huh?"

* * * * *

Frank departed for Wayne’s World shortly thereafter, promising to relay Laura’s sympathies to the ailing April. Joe, declaring he was done for the day and glad of it, established himself at the kitchen table and prepared to eat his way through everything he had located in the refrigerator that could be termed "lunch."

Laura stood and watched her younger son for a moment or two, then turned away and surveyed the kitchen floor somberly.

"Mom?" Joe managed to make his tone inquiring through a bite of peanut-butter sandwich. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to scrub this floor." Laura said and shivered a little. "I keep seeing…Linda, lying there…."

Joe winced; that was an image he wouldn’t want engraved in his mind. And as Laura spoke, he himself could see the quiet figure lying there on the vinyl flooring….

"Maybe if I know the floor’s just been mopped," his mother continued. "I can get it out of my head."

Joe nodded sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Well—" Laura pondered a few seconds. "I think tonight would be a good night for grilled hamburgers and salads for dinner. I think what I’d like you to do is to make sure the grill is clean, out on the patio; and to make a run to the grocery store for me, and pick up some ground beef and hamburger buns."

"I can do that." Joe assented. "And my car needs to be washed." He grinned, and a familiar wheedling tone entered his voice. "Mom…can I ask Vanessa over…?"

* * * * *

At four o’clock that afternoon, Laura slipped up the stairs to the guest room and entered silently. Bella was lying on the bed, curled into a loose ball; her breathing was soft and steady, her eyes closed. There were dried tear streaks still showing on her cheeks, but her face was relaxed and composed in sleep. Laura touched her niece’s hair very gently, her heart aching with her own grief and the sorrow she felt for "Tinkerbelle" who had lost her mother.

Laura turned away from the bedside, and was about to depart as quietly as she had come, when Bella stirred suddenly, turned over and opened her eyes, fixing them on Laura. She blinked once, then once more.

"It wasn’t a dream, was it?" the girl said huskily. "She’s really gone."

Swiftly, Mrs. Hardy returned to Bella’s side, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She held out her arms in invitation, and this time Bella snuggled into the embrace, clinging to Laura as if she never wanted to let go. After a long moment, however, Bella loosened her grip and leaned back.

"Tell me how it happened." she requested.

Laura bit her lip, striving for composure. "As I said before, darling, Frank and Joe came home yesterday from a parade. They found your mother lying on the floor in the kitchen. They realized she was dead, and they called the police, but because of it being July 4^th, there was quite a bit of time that elapsed before the authorities could get here. Fenton and I—"

"Fenton?"

"Your uncle," Mrs. Hardy explained with a smile. "My husband’s name is Fenton."

"Oh—okay, go on."

"We didn’t arrive home until some time after the boys did." Laura concluded.

"Do you – know why – how – she died?" Bella was trying very hard to remain calm and collected; it was as if she was discussing someone from past history; someone she was only mildly interested in.

"No. She wasn’t harmed, in the sense of being shot, or knifed or strangled, if that’s what you mean…." Laura paused, realizing that perhaps her glib recital of these methods of death wasn’t sitting too well with her niece; there was perhaps a little too much familiarity with them for comfort. See what comes of living with policemen and detectives all these years? "It looked as if she simply came into the house and…quietly died here." she finished gently.

"She had been sick." Bella said flatly. "She kept telling me it was nothing, that she’d be better soon….but she didn’t get better; she was getting worse."

"Sick? You mean – something like – cancer?"

"No – well, I don’t know. She just didn’t feel well, a lot of the time. Stomach pain. She complained about being dizzy, and she was nauseated a lot. And she seemed sort of paranoid, sometimes. But she didn’t want to see a doctor about it."

"Perhaps it was a heart attack." Laura suggested. "Although she was very young for something like that."

"Mrs. Har—I mean, Aunt Laura?" Bella faltered. "She couldn’t have – have – killed herself, could she?"

"Killed herself?" Laura’s tone sharpened. "Why would she do something like that?"

"Well – she was depressed. I knew she hadn’t been herself since Daddy died, but I never thought she’d hurt herself—"

Laura inhaled sharply. "Marco’s dead?" Pain swept through her again, as she remembered the handsome, dark-eyed Italian man that Linda had loved so passionately. Marco – the modern version of Frankie Avalon, that’s what Linda used to call him when she first knew him! "Oh Bella, I had no idea your father was dead! When did it happen?" She caught Bella into her arms again.

"About two months ago." the little blonde girl replied, her lips quivering. "There was a robbery at the restaurant, after it had closed one night." She laid her head against Laura’s shoulder.

"The restaurant?" Mrs. Hardy inquired gently.

"Yeah – Marco’s Italian Restaurant – the restaurant my parents owned." Bella swallowed hard. "My dad was shot….they never found out who did it."

"And you think your mother might have been so depressed that she –" Laura closed her eyes. Fenton had assured her that there didn’t seem to be any evidence of foul play. She’d consoled herself with the thought that Linda must have been ill, but had her sister been so distraught that she had actually taken her own life? But what about the messages she left on the answering machine? "Bella, right now we don’t know what caused her death. But Fenton and the boys are looking into it – we’ll know soon."

"You sound very sure." Blue eyes met equally blue ones.

"I am sure." Mrs. Hardy replied. "I have a lot of faith in them." She hugged Bella once more and stood up. "Would you like to rest longer?"

"No, I think I’d like to clean up a little." Bella glanced around the room and spotted her backpack beside the bed. "I have some other clothes in there…."

"The bathroom is just next door," Laura told her. "Come on downstairs when you’re ready." She exited, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Left alone, Bella sat on the bed for a few moments, attempting to arrange her tumultuous thoughts. In the past few hours, she’d lost her only surviving parent, and discovered a whole family of relatives she’d never known existed. She thought about Laura, who looked so like her mother….about Frank, who, although she had mistrusted him at first, seemed to be nice after all…and about the other guy – the blonde one she’d tried to pummel into taffy. What had Frank said his name was? John? Jeff? Hmmm….whoever he was, she had certainly made a bad first impression! She stood up and grabbed her backpack; headed for the shower.

Laura reached the bottom of the staircase just as the front door opened and her husband entered the house. She walked to him and let him enfold her in his comforting embrace.

"Oh Fenton, I’m so glad you’re home." She rested her head against his shoulder wearily.

"I’m glad I’m here too." He kissed her gently. "You all right?"

"Yes." She straightened up and leaned away from him. "What did you find out?"

"I checked the cab companies here in town," the investigator began. "and eventually found the one that Linda took here yesterday morning. I located the driver and talked to him. He remembered bringing her here…and stated without a doubt that she seemed to be very ill and upset. He was worried about leaving her here, when it became obvious that there was no one home, but she was adamant. So he obeyed her wishes." He sighed. "I wish he had obeyed his better judgment instead, and called 911. I also found out that Marco and Linda owned a restaurant in New York City, up until…" Fenton hesitated, but Laura took the thread of conversation.

"Until Marco was killed two months ago." she said softly.

"How in the world…?" He gaped at her, dumbfounded. "How could you know that? I just found it out!"

"Remember the photo in the wallet?" she reminded him. "Linda’s and Marco’s daughter Isabelle – Bella – is currently in our guest room."

"What?"

Laura couldn’t help chuckling at her husband’s astonishment. "Believe it or not, Frank found her at the police station – looking for her mother. He brought her here not realizing who she was. Being his usual helpful self. He had no idea he was bringing home a long-lost relative."

"Thank goodness!" Mr. Hardy exhaled a sigh of relief. "I talked to the manager of Marco’s restaurant – a man by the name of Alexander Harrington – and he was going out of his mind with worry because Linda’s daughter had disappeared last night."

"She was apparently on her way here last night." Laura explained. "Not ‘here’ as in to our house, but ‘here’ as in Bayport.

"It sounds as if you’ve had a busy day!" Fenton noted. "What else do you already know, then?"

Before Laura could reply, the telephone rang, and Fenton turned to answer it. "Hardy residence – ah, afternoon, Con." He listened intently for a few moments, occasionally murmuring "uh huh," and "yes, I see." Finally he hung up and turned to face his anxiously-waiting wife.

"Con got the autopsy results back." He reached to grasp Laura’s shoulders. "Linda died of kidney failure…caused by poison."