Chapter 2

The security office smelled like burnt coffee and lemon polish. They sat me in a leather chair that was worth more than my rent. Vivian stood by the desk, arms crossed, her ivory gown still perfect. Grant stood near the door, his tuxedo jacket open, his collar undone. He had not let go of the locket pieces.

“Start talking,” he said.

Vivian laughed. “Don’t indulge her. She’s a thief and a delusional ex-employee. She worked here when you were a baby. She was unstable then and she’s unstable now.”

I looked at Grant. “I was eighteen. I worked in the kitchen. Your father - Conrad - noticed me. I know how that sounds. I know what you must think. But he gave me a silver locket when I told him I was pregnant. He said it was for me and the baby. He kept one half. I kept the other.”

Grant’s jaw tightened. “My father gave me this locket. He said it was a Calder family piece.”

“Conrad gave it to you?”

“No. Vivian did.”

Vivian stepped forward. “Because it belonged to your father. I gave it to you when you were old enough to appreciate it. This woman is twisting a coincidence into blackmail.”

I reached into my pocket, then remembered. My half was in Grant’s fist. “May I see it?”

He hesitated. Then he opened his palm. The two halves lay against his skin like they had been waiting to be reunited. I pointed to the inscription on mine.

“N.V. & son, 1999. My initials. My son’s birth year.”

Vivian’s mouth thinned. “You could have had that engraved after you saw his locket in a photograph.”

“I didn’t know he had it until two months ago,” I said. “I saw him in the Hudson Valley Gazette at a fundraiser. The photographer caught the chain under his collar. I nearly dropped my coffee. I thought my son died at St. Anne’s. They told me he never took a breath.”

Grant’s voice dropped. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I held you for four hours. You were born March 12, 1999. You had a birthmark behind your left ear, shaped like a comma. They told me you died in your bassinet before dawn.”

The room went still. Grant touched his left ear. He did it without thinking. I saw Vivian see him do it.

“She’s lying,” Vivian said. “She abandoned you. Conrad told me. She left you at the hospital and disappeared.”

I flinched. “Conrad told you that?”

“He told me everything after you abandoned your child. I took you in. I raised you. I loved you when she didn’t.”

Grant looked between us. I could see the ground shifting under him. He wanted to believe the woman who had raised him. I understood that. I had spent years wanting to believe someone, anyone, had not lied to me.

“I never abandoned him,” I said. “I was told he died. I was shown a death certificate. I signed papers because I was eighteen and alone and Conrad wouldn’t answer my calls.”

Grant slid my half across the desk toward me. “Take it.”

Vivian’s hand shot out. “No. That’s evidence.”

“Evidence of what?” Grant asked. “If she’s lying, I’ll find out. If she’s not-” He stopped. He didn’t know how to finish.

I picked up my half. The metal was warm from his hand. “I don’t want your money,” I said. “I don’t want the Calder name. I only want the truth.”

Vivian opened her clutch and pulled out a folded check. “I can make this go away. Cash. A bus ticket. You leave the county tonight and never come back.”

I stood. My cheek throbbed. My hands were shaking. But I had waited twenty-six years for this.

“No,” I said. “I’m not leaving without my son.”

Vivian’s eyes went cold. “Then I’ll have you arrested.”

Grant stepped between us. “No. Not tonight.”

“Grant-”

“I said not tonight.” He looked at me. “Go home, Ms. Vale. I’ll find you.”

I walked out into the frosty autumn night, my half-locket in my pocket, and wondered if I had just lost my son again.