“And?”
“I found three Hannah Carters, two Hannah Whitmores, and one Hannah Carter who turned out to be a seventy-eight-year-old beekeeper in Oregon.”
I laughed through my tears.
“Maybe you should have married her.”
“She sounded interesting.”
“Douglas.”
His smile faded.
“Margaret found you.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“2019.”
My hand went still.
“She found me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“A high school reunion page.”
I remembered joining it briefly.
Uploading one photograph.
Deleting the account months later.
“Why didn’t she contact me?”
Douglas’s eyes moved to Lucas.
Again.
That look.
There was something else.
“What happened?”
Lucas’s voice softened.
“My mother did contact you.”
I stared at him.
“No, she didn’t.”
“She mailed you a letter.”
“I never received one.”
Douglas whispered, “We know.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“What does that mean?”
Lucas stood and went to the suitcase.
He removed an envelope.
Unlike the others, this one looked relatively new.
