“I don’t know,” she said, her mouth dropping open as though she’d suddenly been made aware of a serious problem.
“Come on.” Serenity held out her hand. “I bet we can find something in the kitchen that’ll work.”
As Lucy’s small fingers curled through hers, Serenity felt lucky for the first time since learning about Lorelei and Reagan. She’d been angry at the thought of being deceived, frightened at what she might discover, curious to know the truth, worried about how this might affect her life and a bit shell-shocked to have something like this happen on the heels of her ex-husband’s trial. That was a lot of emotion to deal with—all of it negative.
But in this one moment, as she led her niece in to find some accoutrements for a snowman, she felt a touch of gratitude simply for having more people to love.
* * *
lorelei
Lorelei tried not to bite her nails. Usually, she purchased acrylics to prevent what she was doing now. When she was young, she wouldn’t quit until she’d made her fingers bleed, and since she’d been too busy to get a manicure before coming to Tahoe—too upset to go out or spend the money on something that had suddenly become a very low priority—she found herself reverting to her old habits.
“You okay?”
Serenity’s voice was soft and reassuring. Lorelei wanted to respond to her kindness, but trust didn’t come easily for her. There’d been a lot of people in her life who’d seemed reliable—but weren’t. Mark and Francine were just the latest.
Folding her hands in her lap, Lorelei nodded. After running around in the snow for two hours, and having a sandwich and some celery and carrot sticks for lunch, Lucy was asleep upstairs. Reagan and Serenity sat at the kitchen table across from her, each with a pile of photographs from when they were children, along with various other scrapbook items.
Lorelei had nothing, of course. Which was why she felt this meeting was more important to her than either of them. She was hoping to finally forge a connection with her past. That need had dimmed slightly after she’d married Mark. She’d been able to bury it for a while, give it less thought and attention.
Lucy’s birth and the love and devotion she lavished on her child helped, too.
But now, with her trust in her husband destroyed and the future uncertain, she felt as though she was tumbling down the long hill she’d so painstakingly climbed since meeting him—or, more accurately, that he’d pushed her down it.
She could’ve brought a few pictures from when she was older, of course. Birthday cards she’d received from friends. School pictures her foster parents had kept for her. A teddy bear—worn out because it had stuck with her longer than any human. Some early examples of her schoolwork. A nice note from a teacher.
Some years were spottier than others as far as these types of items were concerned, depending on what had been happening with her housing situation at the time. Even when she was old enough to save things herself, they often got lost in the shuffle. She had nothing that could shed any light on where she was born, or to whom, so there hadn’t been anything to bring.
“Before we go through this stuff, why don’t we each share our earliest memories?” Serenity said. “Where we thought we were when various events took place, who we were with, whether those people stayed in our lives... I’ve found in researching the cases I write about, sometimes it’s the most innocuous detail that leads to something bigger and more revealing.”
Reagan rubbed her face. “Okay. Do you want to go first?”
“Yeah, let’s start with you,” Lorelei chimed in, looking at Serenity. As fragile as she felt, she didn’t want to go first. Talking about her childhood could be difficult even when she was in a better state of mind.
Serenity spread out the items she had with her. “I admit I don’t have much to complain about. I had a wonderful childhood. So good, in fact, that I couldn’t help thinking there must be some mistake with...with what