They both went still, heads bowed. Huey groaned as if the power of canine awkwardness could save the day.
Mere stroked his head, then looked up. "Is he going to tell anyone? Like, the school or anyone else in town?"
"No. Not unless you want him to. This is between the five of us, for now. Er, six if you count his mother."
The questions came fast after that.
Would he come over here? What about the money? Will we have to give it back? Did he have any other family? Was it weird that he remembered me at all? Did his mom hate us? Was she dangerous? Did she know where we lived? Was she going to show up, too?
I answered every one to the best of my ability. "He works at the bakery. He has his mom and two brothers, that he mentioned when we met when you were, er, conceived. The money from his family is still set aside. He never wanted to buy us off. That was all Livia. I don't think she hates you. If anything, she probably wants to meet you more than he does, but again, it's your choice. No, she's not dangerous. Just controlling and cautious."
Mere went quiet, considering. Fifi finally relaxed enough to set the pillow aside.
The rain slowed.
I couldn't read their faces, at least not with the old accuracy. Mere wore her classic neutral mask, but her eyes gave everything away, calculation and worry and a crack of hope under it. Fifi looked deflated, but not destroyed. Her hands stilled, finally.
Huey, bored with our drama, stretched out on his side and let out a giant snore.
Nobody moved for a long time. The only noise came from outside. The soft hiss of rain and therandom pops of thunder rolling away down the valley.
"So," Fifi finally said, "are we supposed to call him Dad?"
"Not unless you want to," I said. "He'd probably faint if you did. Just Chance is fine."
They nodded, in perfect twin unison, but neither spoke next.
It wasn't a happily-ever-after reunion, but it was real.
Mere caught my attention. Her gaze went sharp, like she was inspecting me for fractures. "Are you okay, Mom?"
I almost laughed. "Yeah. I just wish I'd known sooner. Maybe everything would've been easier."
"Maybe," Mere conceded, but there was something gentle about the way she said it. She reached across the no man's land between couch and chair and squeezed my wrist.
"Can we at least have hot chocolate if we have to talk this much?" Fifi grumbled, already halfway to the kitchen.
I followed, half-grateful for the diversion.
The girls set everything up. We'd done this a million times. Fifi at the end of the table, Mere opposite, Huey wedged underfoot, waiting for crumbs. Imicrowaved the milk in short bursts, then dumped in the chocolate mix.
Once the drinks were finally in front of them, Fifi started. "Does he know we're, um, weird? Like, does he know about my stuff?"
"Not yet," I said, keeping it vague. "But he mentioned something might run in his family, and I told him you have some anxiety problems, but I was vague. He also didn't go into detail."
Mere studied her hands. "What's he like? I mean, other than running a bakery."
I laughed, and it came out shaky. "Sort of bossy. But nice? He cares a lot about his family."
Mere sipped her cocoa and mulled that over. "Does he remember you? Like, the night you met?"
"Yeah," I said, looking straight into my mug. "It was only once, but he remembered. Said he never stopped wondering what happened to me."
Fifi grunted. "Then why didn't he try harder?"
"He couldn't. His mom didn't tell him anything. Literally nothing. He thought I'd just left town. There was no way to find me, even if he wanted to. Believe me, his first reaction was pure shock. Then, he was just sad."
The silence that followed was dense enough to cut with a butter knife. Even Huey didn't dare whine.
