CHAPTER FIVE
Cassandra walked toward the kitchen, unsure if this was her parents’ house or not because her mother rarely cooked and her father had never asked for a beer.
Who were these people? Where were her real mom and dad?
At the doorway to the kitchen, Cassandra froze.
The scent of fresh-baked brownies lingered in the air. A pan of them sat on the stove. Dirty bowls and pots filled the sink. If that wasn’t a bizarre-enough sight, her mother stood at the counter. She was—Cassandra did a double take—arranging a platter of vegetables.
Cassandra blinked, but when she opened her eyes, the image remained.
That was when Cassandra realized her mom wore a pale pink apron over her black pants and white blouse. That was not a normal fashion accessory for the refined and elegant Vanessa Dan
