"My ex-husband invited me to Christmas dinner eight years after abandoning me while I was pregnant—and after convincing his family there had never been a baby at all.

I called my sister from Margaret's upstairs bathroom with the door locked and the tap running.

"Diane," I said when she picked up.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Rachel?

It's Christmas morning—"

"I know.

I'm sorry.

I need you to look up a name.

Sylvia Crane.

Denver area, possibly still active in property or real estate.

Anything you can find quickly."

Diane was quiet for a moment.

She worked in financial compliance.

She knew how to find things.

"Give me an hour," she said.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.

The children are fine." I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"Just find her."

I went back downstairs.

The living room had settled into something that looked almost like a normal Christmas, which was disorienting.

Noah and Ethan were examining the ornaments on Margaret's tree with the focused interest of boys who had never seen someone else's Christmas decorations.

Sophie had found a shelf of old photographs and was studying them one by one.

Grace had fallen asleep on the sofa with her head on a cushion, which was something Grace had always been able to do — simply decide that rest was available and take it.

Margaret was sitting in the armchair near the window, watching them.

I sat on the arm of the sofa near Grace's feet.

"She has your coloring," Margaret said softly.

"But she sleeps like Daniel did.

He could fall asleep anywhere.

Drove me mad when he was a teenager."

I didn't say anything.

"I owe you an apology," Margaret said.

"Margaret—"

"No.

Let me." She folded her hands in her lap.

"He told me you'd invented it.

The pregnancy.

He said you'd become — unstable was the word he used.

I believed him because he was my son and because it was easier than the alternative." She paused.

"I should have called you.

I had your number for three months before he changed his.

I should have called and asked you directly."

"You didn't know."

"I chose not to know." She looked at me steadily.

"There's a difference."

I held that for a moment.

"They're wonderful children," she said.

"All four of them.

That boy — Ethan — he has Robert's eyes.

My husband's eyes.

I nearly couldn't breathe when I saw him."

"They've been asking about the Reynolds side of the family for two years," I said.

"I didn't know what to tell them."

"Tell them their grandmother is deeply sorry and intends to spend a considerable amount of time making it up to them." She said it simply, without drama.

"If you'll allow that."

"I'll allow that."

Daniel came back into the room then, phone in hand, his face arranged in the careful neutral expression he'd been wearing all morning.

He looked at his mother, then at me.

"I heard back from my investigator," he said.

"Sylvia Crane filed for a business license in Denver six months ago.

New company.

Property acquisition." He paused.

"The registered address is four blocks from your children's school."

The room didn't change.

The tree lights still blinked.

Grace still slept.