The little girl appeared seventeen minutes before Evelyn Hart was supposed to get married.
No one saw where she came from.
One moment, the marble foyer outside the ballroom of the Beaumont Estate was filled only with florists making last-minute adjustments, bridesmaids checking their phones, hotel staff carrying trays of champagne, and Evelyn standing beneath a twenty-foot arched window while her photographer tried to capture one final portrait before the ceremony.
The next moment, a tiny child in a pale peach dress was running across the polished floor toward her.
She could not have been older than four.
Her light-brown hair had come loose from two small braids, one white shoe was missing, and tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.
Evelyn saw her only a second before the child reached her.
The little girl threw both arms around Evelyn’s wedding gown.
“Mommy!”
The photographer lowered his camera.
Evelyn stopped breathing.
The child buried her face against the lace covering Evelyn’s waist.
“Mommy, please don’t go.”
For several seconds, the entire foyer seemed to freeze.
Evelyn looked down.
She had never seen the little girl before in her life.
Her first thought was that the child had become separated from her family and mistaken Evelyn for someone else.
That had to be it.
The Beaumont Estate was hosting two private events that afternoon. Somewhere in the enormous building, another family was gathering for a fiftieth wedding anniversary. Children had been running through the east courtyard all morning.
Evelyn crouched carefully, gathering the skirt of her wedding gown beneath her.
“Sweetheart.”
The little girl looked up.
Evelyn felt something strange move through her chest.
The child had gray-green eyes.
Exactly like hers.
Not merely green.
Not merely light.
The same unusual ring of amber surrounded each pupil.
The same color Evelyn’s mother had always called storm glass.
The girl stared at her face with complete certainty.
“Mommy.”
Evelyn swallowed.
“I think you have me confused with someone.”
The child began shaking her head before Evelyn finished.
“No.”
Her small fingers tightened around Evelyn’s dress.
“You’re Mommy.”
“No, sweetheart. My name is Evelyn.”
The girl cried harder.
“No. Mommy Nora.”
Evelyn went still.
Behind her, one of the bridesmaids whispered, “What did she say?”
Evelyn barely heard.
“Nora?”
The little girl nodded frantically.
“Mommy Nora.”
Evelyn felt the first true pulse of fear.
There was something about the way the child said the name.
Not confused.
Not guessing.
Certain.
Evelyn touched the girl’s shoulder.
“What’s your name?”
“Maisie.”
“Maisie what?”
The child looked frightened by the question.
Before Evelyn could ask anything else, footsteps approached from behind.
“Ev?”
James Walker appeared through the doorway in a black tuxedo.
He was not supposed to see Evelyn until she walked down the aisle.
Under any other circumstances, her bridesmaids would have screamed at him to leave.
No one said a word.
James looked first at Evelyn.
Then at the child gripping her dress.
His expression shifted from confusion to alarm.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
He approached slowly.
Maisie saw him.
Instead of relaxing, she pressed herself harder against Evelyn.
James crouched beside them.
“Hey there.”
The child stared at him.
“My name’s James. Are you lost?”
Maisie did not answer.
Evelyn looked around the foyer.
“Has anyone called security?”