From inside the house floated the sounds of an afternoon talk show and a running kitchen faucet. There were footsteps from the bottom level. Suddenly a barefoot young girl appeared at the door and whipped it open, revealing a small landing and two sets of stairs, one going up to the kitchen and living room, the other descending to a basement. “Who are you?” the girl asked.
Corinne’s own big blue eyes stared back at her. There was her small mouth, and Will’s round ears and freckles. His button nose and square jaw. The girl had Corinne’s little hands and long feet, even the slightly longer second toe. Her blond hair hung down her back in a snarl of curls, the same way Aster’s used to.
A mixture of sadness and guilt rippled through Corinne. There had been so many times when she had wondered what her daughter would look like—and here she was, a perfect blend of herself and Will. I gave you up. I gave you up. I gave you up, a voice chorused in her head.
Corinne tried to smile. “Is . . . is your mom home?”
The girl pivoted halfway. “Mommy!” she yelled up the stairs.
The sound of the kitchen faucet ceased, and a woman appeared at the top of the split-level stairs. She squinted at Corinne, then slowly walked toward the screen. She wore navy sweats and had a small, heart-shaped face that looked nothing like her daughter’s. She put an arm around the girl and opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Corinne Saybrook,” Corinne said, offering her hand.
The woman just stared at her. “Sadie Grier.”
“And this is?” Corinne glanced at the little girl.
Sadie looked at Corinne warily. Then she placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Michaela, why don’t you go downstairs and draw? Mommy will be down soon, okay?”
“Okay.” Michaela shrugged and slid down the stairs to the bottom level on her butt. Corinne’s stomach sank. Her own child had looked through her. She had no connection to this girl; another woman was her mother. Her baby didn’t love her, didn’t know her, didn’t feel anything for her. She was just a stranger at the door.
Sadie turned back to Corinne. “I know who you are. And I don’t mean to be rude, but haven’t we been through this?” She glanced toward the stairs. “I know you regret what you did, but you all can’t keep coming here, interrupting our lives. She’s too young to understand. We’re her parents now. You and your boyfriend made that choice.”
Corinne stepped back. “What are you talking about?”
Sadie narrowed her eyes. “I’m so grateful for what you did, but you have to leave us alone.”
Corinne shook her head, not understanding.
“Your boyfriend was here just last month. On Michaela’s birthday. He asked so many questions. And he was so pushy. We had to explain to Michaela that we weren’t her real parents. How do you think that made her feel?”
“Wait a minute.” Corinne clutched the railing to the porch stairs. “My boyfriend?”
“Tall guy. Curly hair. Freckles like Michaela’s. Obviously her dad.”
Suddenly she felt sick. “But that’s impossible. I never told Will about her.”
Sadie frowned. “Well, I guess someone did.”
“Did he tell you who?”
Sadie threw up her hands. “That’s for you all to work out.” She nodded toward the front door. “But stop, okay? It’s scaring us.”
“Scaring you?”
“Mommy?”
Sadie’s head turned toward the basement. “I’ll be there in a second, honey.”
Corinne tried to get another look at her beautiful child. “I’ve come all this way,” she said in a choked voice. “Can’t I at least talk to her?”
Sadie shook her head, her expression firm. “We’re her parents now. I’m sorry.”
And then she shut the door. Corinne stood on the porch and stared blankly. A trash truck had passed outside, its hulking shape rounding the next corner. An overturned garbage can rolled down the street. Corinne pressed her hand to her chest, feeling as if she was going to throw up. Will had known.
But how? No one knew she’d hidden out down here or had a baby. Not her parents, not Edith, not a single friend. Only Poppy. A conversation shortly before Poppy died fluttered into her thoughts. That day at her bridal fitting. Poppy had pulled her aside: “Tomorrow is May first. How are you . . . feeling?” And Corinne had said she felt so selfish for never telling. Poppy had said, “There’s still time.”
What if Poppy knew Will was in Manhattan? She could have stumbled upon him at Coxswain. She and Evan could have gone there together, in fact. Corinne pressed her hand to her chest again, feeling her heart thudding hard against her ribs. What if Poppy had kicked Pandora’s box open . . . and told Will everything? She might have thought she was doing a good deed. Sadie said Will had visited one month ago, on Michaela’s birthday.
May 1. Corinne had blocked out thoughts of her daughter on that date. Then, that week, she and Dixon had gone to Coxswain. She’d seen Will for the first time.
That next morning, Poppy was dead.