food. She took the plastic lid off the cup. Helen had poured in enough milk to turn the liquid white, just the way Claire liked it.
Helen opened a napkin and put it on Claire’s lap. She said, “You know that revolver takes .38 Special ammunition, right?”
Claire sipped the coffee. Her mother had been inside the Tesla. She would’ve seen the weapon in the door pocket.
“It’s in your purse. It didn’t seem safe to leave a gun in your car while it’s parked on the street. I couldn’t find a place downtown or I would’ve bought ammunition for you.”
Claire put down the cup. She unwrapped the biscuit to give her hands something to do. She expected the smell to turn her stomach, but she realized that she was hungry. She took a large bite.
Helen said, “Huckleberry called me. I know you know about the tape.”
Claire swallowed. Her throat still hurt from screaming in the back yard of the Fuller house. “You lied to me about Julia.”
“I protected you. There’s a difference.”
“I had a right to know.”
“You are my child. I am your mother.” Helen sounded resolute. “I won’t apologize for doing my job.”
Claire bit back a sharp comment about how refreshing it was to hear that Helen was back on the job.
Helen asked, “Did Lydia show you the tape?”
“No.” She wasn’t going to let her sister take the blame yet again. “I found it on the Internet. I showed it to her.” Lydia’s phone. Helen had seen the unfamiliar number on her caller ID. “I took her phone. Mine was stolen during the robbery, and I needed one, so I took hers.”
Helen didn’t press for a better explanation, likely because she had investigated countless thefts when the girls were growing up. She only asked, “Are you all right?”
“I feel better. Thank you.” She looked over her mother’s shoulder because she couldn’t bring herself to look her in the eye. Claire couldn’t tell Helen about Lydia, but she could tell her about Dee. Her mother was a grandmother. She had a beautiful, accomplished grandchild who was hopefully being hidden somewhere that Paul would never find her.
Which meant that, right now, Claire couldn’t let Helen find her, either.
Helen said, “Earlier, when Wynn and I were looking for you, I remembered something your father told me.” She gripped her purse in her lap. “He said that children always have different parents, even in the same family.”
Family. Helen had more than she knew about. Claire felt the weight of her own guilt pressing down on her chest.
Helen continued, “When Julia was little and it was just the three of us, I think I was a pretty damn good mother.” She laughed, because the memory obviously made her happy. “And then Pepper came along and she was such a handful, but I loved every frustrating, challenging minute of it because she was so opinionated and strong-willed, and she knocked against Julia all the time.”
Claire nodded. She could remember the screaming arguments between her older sisters. They were too much alike to get along for more than a few hours at a time.
“And then there was you.” Helen smiled sweetly. “You were so easy compared to your sisters. You were quiet and sweet-natured and your father and I used to sit up at night and talk about how different you were. ‘Are you sure they didn’t mix up the babies at the hospital?’ he would say. ‘Maybe we should go down to the county jail and see if our real child has been arrested for being a public nuisance?’”
Claire smiled, because this sounded just like something her father would say.
“You watched everything. You noticed everything.” Helen shook her head. “I would see you sitting in your highchair, and your eyes would follow my every move. You were so curious about the world, and so keyed into everybody else—the tempers and the passions and the overwhelming personalities—that I was afraid you’d get lost. That’s why I took you on our little outings. Do you remember?”
Claire had forgotten, but she remembered now. Her mother had taken her to art museums in Atlanta and to puppet shows and even participated in an ill-fated pottery class.
Just the two of them. No Pepper to ruin Claire’s perfectly formed clay bowl. No Julia to spoil the puppet show by commenting on the patriarchal structure of Punch and Judy.
Helen continued, “I was a really good mother to you for thirteen years, and then I was a really bad one for about five, and I