“But that was the late eighties.”

“It made no difference to her. She was a strong-willed woman. She made me swear I wouldn’t tell my grandfather.”

“Why not?”

“My grandfather was a kind and loving man. He was a second father to me. But he too had very steadfast beliefs about women getting pregnant out of marriage.”

“Kind of Stone Age.”

“He was born in 1920. If you’re curious, he’s mentioned in several articles about eugenics in Virginia.”

“What about it?”

“Perhaps it will help explain him better. My grandfather, like other medical professionals of the time, believed they were doing a service to women by sterilizing them.”

“Sterilizing them?”

“Mentally challenged, disabled, and sometimes just poor women. I’m not defending what he did. It was terrible. But in his mind, he was performing a necessary service.”

“Jesus.”

“I was very angry with Olivia for a long time. But over the years, I gained some perspective. I read her journals, and I got a glimpse into her early days in Virginia. You’ll learn a lot about her.”

“Through her plants?” Libby struggled to keep a civil tone.

“She talks a lot about the people she knew then. There was one girl in particular, Sadie Thompson. My grandmother befriended her and tried to help her.”

“The name etched in the greenhouse glass?” Libby asked.

“Yes.”

A car pulled up, and Libby pushed back a jolt of annoyance as she saw Lofton striding up the front steps. She wore a dark-blue long-sleeve shirt that she had rolled up, jeans, and wedge sandals.

Libby ran her hands through her hair. Of all the times.

“I forgot my phone,” Lofton said as she kissed Elaine on the cheek. “I had to come back.”

Libby rose. “Lofton.”

Tension drew Lofton’s full lips into a tight line. “Hello, Libby. What brings you back? More photography?”

“I was having a talk with Elaine.”

Lofton’s lips thinned. “Really?”

Elaine sighed. “Libby found a letter Olivia wrote to her when she was born.”

“Why would Olivia write a letter to Libby?” And even before her sentence was finished, she shook her head. “I see.”

“You see what?” Elaine asked.

Lofton clenched her hands. “I don’t want to have this conversation in front of her.”

“You might as well.” Libby wanted to spare Elaine any more tension, but her baby sister was pressing too many nerves. “You clearly have a problem with me.”

“I don’t know you,” Lofton said. “None of us really know you.”

“What’s that mean?” Libby asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lofton said. “And I don’t want to upset Mom.”

“You’ve figured it out,” Libby said. “You know who I am.”

“I didn’t know for sure. But then I saw Mom interact with you. She was nervous, and she is never nervous. Dad was being super polite to you. I’d never felt those vibes from them before. Finally, you look like Olivia, for God’s sake.”

“Why would you even suspect?” Elaine asked, clearly shocked and surprised.

“When I got my passport, I had a good look at my birth certificate. It stated I was your second child.”

Elaine closed her eyes. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Lofton said.

“Other than you three, who else knows?” Libby asked.

“Margaret and Ted know,” Elaine said. “But beyond them, no one else knows.”

It didn’t surprise Libby that Margaret might have known. Margaret likely knew everything that went on in this house. “So I’m basically still a secret,” Libby said.

“I kept that secret to protect myself and you,” Elaine said. “Giving you to the McKenzies was something I didn’t like to talk about because I was ashamed. I didn’t think it fair for me to show up and present myself. I wasn’t turning your life into a reality television show.”

“She’s a great mom,” Lofton interjected.

“Easy for you to say.” The unexpected bitterness surprised her. “She didn’t pretend you didn’t exist.”

“I never did any such thing,” Elaine said.

“You never told me the truth,” Libby said.

“I agreed a long time ago to let your parents handle every aspect of disclosure. Your father promised he would tell, and I believed that. I only approached you when I realized he had not.”

“It always struck me as a little odd that Ginger called me out of the blue to take pictures at her wedding.”

“Margaret told me Ginger wanted to get married, and I offered up Woodmont if she would use you as her photographer.”

“Very clever.”

“I wanted to get to know you under more normal circumstances.”

Elaine leaned slightly toward Lofton, as if she needed her support. Lofton wrapped an arm around her mother’s slim shoulder, and Libby felt more an outsider than she ever had. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me today.”

“You’ll come back, right?” Elaine asked quickly.

“I don’t know,” Libby said.

Lofton’s features hardened with anger and suspicion.

“My door is always open,” Elaine said. “I want you to know you’re not alone, and you do have family.”

“Elaine, I’m not even sure what that means anymore.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LIBBY

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Bluestone, Virginia

The sun peeked through the drapes, slicing across Libby’s closed eyes. She rolled away, pulling the pillow with her. Her head pounded while she felt unsettled, with no hint of an appetite.

After shoving the hair from her eyes, she reached for her phone and checked the time. She could not remember when she had been sleeping late in the morning unless Jeremy was with her and they were purposefully whiling away the hours together. In those days, sex had been for the sake of pleasure. There had been no agenda, no sense of angst, and no feeling of failure. There were times when she missed those days.

As soon as she had left Elaine’s, her knee-jerk reaction had been to call Jeremy. He had been her best friend and had listened to her worries about not having a genetic history. In fact, it had been her wild card genetics that had prompted them both to get genetic counseling before they had even tried to get pregnant. And as she’d miscarried, she had wondered if that hidden history had been the cause.

On reflex she pulled up Jeremy’s Instagram page. There was a picture of an overnight bag that said, ONE WEEK TO GO!

She stared at the image a long time. When she had been pregnant the first time, she had dared to think ahead to her delivery and what she would pack in her bag. By the third pregnancy, no such thoughts had been allowed until she had hit the twelve-week mark. For two beautiful weeks, she had allowed herself to dream.

Had Elaine prepared a bag like that when she had been pear shaped and on the verge of delivery? Had Olivia been in New Jersey when she was born, or had the grandmother left her granddaughter to deal with the delivery on her own? The more she was learning about Olivia, the more she disliked her.