“No one to speak of, and if I did, I don’t remember.”

“But you did meet a man.”

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Sadie asked. “I was just here to give you my apologies and thanks.”

Miss Olivia closed the gap between the two of them in a blink, and her hand slid to Sadie’s belly. The instant fingers touched, Miss Olivia recoiled.

Sadie quickly stepped back, covering herself with the folds of her jacket. “Why did you go and do that?”

“You do realize what’s happening?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sadie, you’re with child.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LIBBY

Monday, June 15, 2020

The Woodmont Estate

Libby parked in front of Woodmont and shut off the engine. Without the hum of the air-conditioning, the sun quickly warmed up the car. For a moment, the heat felt good, but as soon as it chased away the chill, her skin flushed with the growing heat. Out of the car, she heard the rumble of a truck and the beep-beep of another large vehicle as it backed up. Work on the greenhouse continued, and though on a normal day she might photograph the work, today she had other plans.

She rang the bell and then stepped back, bracing to see Ted or Lofton ready to ask more questions. There was no plausible reason to explain why she was there other than the truth. “Hey, folks, guess what? Your little girl is home! I’m Elaine’s daughter. Surprise!”

Inside the house, she heard steady footsteps that she now recognized as Elaine’s. Libby fidgeted with the letter in her back pocket like a process server with a subpoena. “You’ve been served!”

Instead, she curled her fingers into fists and then quickly released them, fearing she looked angry. Which she was, but that was beside the point. She was mad at Elaine and her father. Why the hell was it so hard to tell the truth?

The door opened to Elaine. She was dressed in a simple pair of slim-fitting khakis and a white shirt. Her brown hair was brushed off her face, and she wore only a little makeup but managed to look totally pulled together. Why did I not get that gene? Libby thought.

“Libby?”

“Did you get my message?” Libby’s voice sounded tight and tense.

“I did.”

Libby did not need to ask why Elaine had not called her back. She would bet money that Elaine had heard the bottled tension in her voice and guessed that the cat was out of the bag. “We need to talk.”

“Sure.” She came outside and guided Libby to a twin pair of rockers under a slow-moving ceiling fan. “Would you like something to drink?”

Vodka, bourbon, or wine might have hit the spot and taken the edge off. “No, thank you.”

Elaine lowered into a chair and watched as Libby removed the letter from her back pocket. “You’ve finally gone through your father’s papers.”

“I was looking for the deed to the house.”

“Are you planning on selling?” Elaine asked.

“Using it as collateral. It’s a long story and not the reason I’m here. I found the letter Olivia wrote to me. Dad had it in its own folder.”

Elaine stilled, staring at her. Tension rippled through her body.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Elaine’s eyes glistened with tears. “Are you angry?”

Libby’s heart raced quickly, pounding loudly in her ears. Even with the letter in hand, a small part of her had hoped maybe it was not true and that her father had not lied by omission. “I’m not sure what I feel, Elaine. I’ve made it to age thirty-one, and no one has been honest.”

“That was a condition of the adoption. I was never to contact you. But your father sent me pictures of you each year around your birthday.”

“I’m not a child. Don’t you think we could have had a conversation, I don’t know, in the last dozen years?”

“I always thought I would wait and let you come to me. I thought your father would tell you. When I finished my second round of chemo, I called your dad to meet for lunch. I gave him Olivia’s letter, and he promised me he would give it to you. He wanted to be the one to tell you, so I respected that.”

“He did not breathe a word.”

Elaine folded her hands in her lap. “Your father said he would give you the letter. He said he owed you the truth.”

“Did he tell you this while you two were having lunch in Roanoke?” When Elaine looked surprised, Libby added, “Roanoke isn’t so far away from Bluestone. My friend Sierra saw you two.”

Absently, Elaine rubbed a callus on her palm. “He swore to me he would tell you the truth. But then I saw you at his funeral, and you politely shook my hand like a stranger.”

“You’re a stranger.”

“I know. I would like to change that.”

Elaine appeared more fragile now, and Libby could see this was a strain on her. “He never liked to deliver bad news.” She stopped herself. “I didn’t mean bad as in bad. I should have said difficult news. It was all he could do to talk to me when my mother died. And when I say my mother . . .”

“I know what you mean. Kathy was your mother. She raised you, and I won’t take anything away from her. I know she loved you very much.”

“Did she know about you? I think about all the times she brought me here for the Garden Week open houses. Maybe it was just the plants.”

“She knew about me.”

“So the story about me being abandoned in the New Jersey hospital wasn’t true.”

The first flash of anger sparkled in her eyes. “No, it was not. Your father knew I was expecting and living in New Jersey.”

“How did my father find out?”

“My grandmother told him a couple of weeks before you were born. And as soon as she did, he contacted me and asked what I planned to do. I had met with an agency but had made no final choices.”

“Why did Olivia tell him?” Libby asked.

“He was the local pediatrician. Her husband was a doctor. She also knew she would be able to see you from time to time if the McKenzies adopted you.”

“And you said yes, just like that?”

Elaine picked at a loose thread. “I didn’t say yes, just like that. I thought long and hard about it. When I finally called him, I was in labor and absolutely terrified.”

“Mom said she and Dad got the call that there was an abandoned baby ready to adopt. They hopped in the car and drove up to New Jersey.”

Elaine frowned. “You were not abandoned. I called your father when I was in labor. Your parents appeared about two hours after you were born.”

“Mom said you didn’t want to see them.”

“I did not. I was afraid I would lose my nerve.”

“Did you ever think to keep me?”

“A million times.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’ve asked myself that very question every day since.”

“Money couldn’t have been an issue. You come from money.”

“Remember, I had no mother or father to help me with this, and my grandmother came from a different generation. When she was young, a girl who became pregnant out of wedlock was shunned. She was afraid for me.”