Chapter 4

Two days later, Grant called.

“The rose garden,” he said. “Tomorrow at four. Come alone.”

The Calder estate looked different in daylight. The limestone mansion rose against a gray autumn sky, and the rose garden was all thorny stems and frozen earth. Grant stood by a stone bench, wearing a dark coat and no tie. He looked younger without the tuxedo. More like the boy I had imagined.

“I found your employment file,” he said. “You worked here in 1998 and 1999. You left three weeks after I was born.”

“I was told my baby died. I couldn’t stay in that house.”

He nodded slowly. “I asked my mother about the locket. She said it was a family heirloom from Conrad’s grandmother. But there’s no N.V. in the Calder family tree.”

I took out my half and held it toward him. “Take it.”

He stared. “What?”

“Take it. Have it tested. Compare the wear. Show it to a jeweler. Ask Conrad where he got it. I’m giving you the only proof I have.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want you to believe me because I said so. I want you to believe me because you know.”

He took the locket. His fingers brushed mine. He looked at the engraving for a long moment.

“If you’re lying,” he said, “this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I know.”

“If you’re not-” He stopped. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything yet. Just look at the hospital records. St. Anne’s. March 1999. Ask for the birth and death certificates.”

A sharp voice cut through the garden. “Grant.”

Celeste Ashby stood at the edge of the rose beds, beautiful and furious in a cream coat. She had been the bride. She looked at me like I was dirt on her shoe.

“What is she doing here? She stole my earrings.”

“She didn’t,” Grant said.

“You don’t know that. Security found nothing, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t take them. She’s obviously after your money.”

I kept my voice steady. “I’m not after his money.”

Celeste laughed. “Then what are you after? A story? A payout? Everyone knows you’ve been telling people you’re his mother.”

Grant flinched. “Celeste, stop.”

“No. You need to hear this. She’s a laundress who got fired from the hotel for stealing. She’s been arrested before. She’s not your mother. Your mother is Vivian Calder, and she’s humiliated enough without you sneaking around with this woman.”

I looked at Grant. His face was tight. He put my half-locket in his coat pocket.

“Go home, Nora,” he said quietly. “I’ll look at the records.”

Celeste grabbed his arm. “Grant-”

He pulled away. “I said I’ll look.”

I walked back down the gravel path. When I glanced back, Vivian was standing at the second-floor window, watching us. Her face was pale, her hand pressed to the glass.

She had seen him take my locket. She knew the clock was running.