Page 64 of Memories of the Lost

“Only my mom, Arlette Morrisey.”

A silence. Then: “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a good person.”

“Thank you. Is this Eddie?”

“It is. How can I help you?”

“You sound so young,” she commented.

He laughed. “Hard work keeps you healthy.”

“I guess it does. Listen, I was in town yesterday, and Calla at the quilt shop told me you knew my mom when she first came to town. I’m trying to get some background about her, and I was hoping you might know a little.”

“I can try. It’s been a long time, you know.”

“Right.” She paused. “Do you know anything about a child who died?”

“Your sister,” he said immediately.

A wash of icy cold poured down her spine. “My sister?”

“Sweetheart, you don’t know this story?”

“No. I found a death certificate for her in my mom’s stuff. That was the first I’d heard of it.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” His voice was gravelly. “Your mom ... I think that the loss messed with her head. She was hard to pin down, and her stories could be different one day to the next, but she didn’t change this story about your sister. She died in a fire in California. A forest fire or something.”

“But where was I?” Tillie cried.

“I don’t know that part. I got the impression you were not there. Born later, maybe.”

“Yeah.” She peered at the screen. “Can you remember anything about her, then?”

“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, kiddo.” Now he sounded like an old guy.

“Me, either, honestly. But I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about my own mom. Like, I don’t know if I have family somewhere or—”

“She always said she was from New Hampshire.”

“And she said it wasmy sisterwho died?”

“Yeah.”

She could feel his restlessness, or maybe she was projecting because she didn’t know what else to ask. “Okay.”

“Tillie, your mom had some problems, for sure, but I can tell you she was a good person. She loved you like you were the sun itself.” He paused. “Maybe sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

That sentiment again. “Maybe. Can I give you my number? Maybe you could call if you think of anything else?”

“I doubt I will, but you can leave your number.”

She hung up, feeling more unsettled than ever. A sister. She had a sister. She’d died, and her mother never told her. Why? And why didn’t she even get to have a name of her own?

Restlessly, she scanned her email, but there was nothing from Shiloh. Instead of dealing with anything in her real life that might actually be productive, she returned to the newspaper article about the Valencia firestorm, double-checking that there wasn’t a second child listed. She remembered the settlement Jon turned up yesterday and texted him for the link, which he sent back immediately.

Doing ok?he added.

I mean ... ok-ish. You don’t have to worry about me. At least until tomorrow. Liam is leaving for England tonight. And then you leave tomorrow, right? This is going to be terrible.