The three sisters shared a father, but had been born to different mothers. As a result, they didn’t resemble one another strongly.
The click of the keyboard punctuated the air as they watched the computer screen.
Zander had spent so much time at Bradfordwood, the sisters’ childhood home, that he’d become a de facto family member. He’d been included in countless family parties and functions. He’d accompanied them on several trips and, for a long time now, he’d treated Willow and Nora like sisters .... minus the fighting, disagreements, and rivalry.
“Okay,” Nora said to Zander, hands poised above the keyboard. “I’m ready.”
“His full name was Frank Joseph Pierce.”
She entered the information.
Britt checked on the Broccolini—browning nicely—then resumed her position next to Zander.
“He was born on February second, 1955,” Zander said, “in Enumclaw, Washington.”
Nora hit return. “Here he is.” She angled her head toward thetopmost search result. “I’m just going to click on his name to bring up some additional information about him.” A hitch of quiet. “Hmm.” Seriousness weighted the single syllable.
“What is it?” Zander asked.
“Well.” Nora drew Zander nearer the screen. “Frank Joseph Pierce was born on the day you supplied in the town you supplied. But look at this.” She pointed to one of the dates provided. “Frank Joseph Pierce died in 1956.”
Britt stared in confusion at the blocky black numerals.
Nora clicked on a link that brought up a death certificate. Britt’s vision raced over the information. Frank had drowned in August of 1956, when he’d been just a year and a half old.
“This must be the wrong person,” Zander said.
“It’s possible.” Nora spoke calmly. “However, it would be unusual for more than one Frank Joseph Pierce to have been born in a small town on the same day.” She returned to the previous screen and scrolled down.
Britt had gotten to know Frank well, through Zander, when she’d been a teenager. In more recent years, she’d worked side by side with Frank on Merryweather Historical Village’s annual O Holy Night Christmas Concert. From time to time, he and Carolyn invited her to dinner parties. She invited them to join her when a guest chef served a meal at the Village. She saw them at wedding showers and baby showers and fundraising events. Every few weeks, Frank stopped by the shop to drink coffee and visit with her.
Nora selected another listing for Frank Joseph Pierce. This time, the details about the Frank Britt knew,theirFrank, populated the screen. His wedding certificate. A listing of the times he’d appeared in the census.
This was what Britt had expected to see when Nora had run her initial search. Yet all of this now felt as obsolete as a rotary phone in light of the death certificate they’d viewed first.
She peeked at Willow. Willow peeked at her. A pulse ofWhat in the world is going on?passed between them.
“This documents my uncle’s life,” Zander said.
“Yes,” Nora answered.
“But there’s also documentation about the life of someone with the same name who died when he was a toddler.”
“Yes.”
The kitchen timer sounded. Zander used a dish towel to extract the Broccolini from the oven, then made his way back to them. “So even though it’s unusual, two babies with the same namewereborn in the same place on the same day.”
“That’s the conclusion I’d reach if I could find separate birth certificates for each,” Nora agreed. “But I can’t.” She checked and rechecked. “Here’s the birth certificate belonging to the Frank who drowned.” She enlarged a scanned image of a simple, old-school birth certificate printed on beige paper. It listed the date of birth and then the place of birth: Enumclaw, King County. Mother’s maiden name: Gladys Mortensen. Father’s name: William Pierce.
“And here,” Nora said, “is the birth certificate belonging to your uncle.”
The very same birth certificate appeared. Beige paper. Place of birth: Enumclaw, King County. Mother’s maiden name: Gladys Mortensen. Father’s name: William Pierce.
In the silence that followed, Britt’s thoughts spun. They came to a stop on the nonsensical realization that her earlier goal of having the salmon ready at the same time as the Broccolini was shot.
“Two separate people are sharing the same birth certificate,” Nora said.
“Maybe the birth certificate is right, and it’s the death certificate that’s wrong,” Zander said. “Could the death certificate for the boy who died have been issued to Frank by mistake?”
