“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“She stopped answering me yesterday.”
Maisie had said the same thing.
Mommy went away yesterday.
Evelyn crossed the room.
“What happened?”
“Nora called me yesterday morning.”
“And?”
“She said she had changed her mind.”
“About coming?”
“No.”
Margaret swallowed.
“She wanted to meet you before the wedding.”
Evelyn’s pulse quickened.
“What did you say?”
“I said it was too late.”
James stared at her.
Margaret continued quickly.
“I didn’t mean permanently. I meant the timing. You had rehearsal dinner. Guests arriving. I thought dropping something this enormous on you the night before your wedding would be cruel.”
“So you decided lying another day was kinder?”
“I panicked.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Of course.
Fear.
Again.
The engine behind almost every terrible choice her mother described.
“What did Nora say?”
“She became angry.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She said she was done letting me decide when she was allowed to exist.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled again.
Margaret continued.
“She said if I wouldn’t tell you, she would.”
“Then what?”
“She hung up.”
“You called back?”
“Twenty-three times.”
“No answer?”
“Nothing.”
Evelyn looked toward the adjoining room.
“And Maisie?”
“I knew she had a daughter.”
“You knew her name?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know what she looked like?”
“Only photographs.”
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
“So everyone has photographs except me.”
Margaret had no defense.
James walked to Evelyn and took her hand.
“We need to find Nora.”
Evelyn nodded.
The wedding coordinator knocked ten minutes later.
James opened the door only far enough to step into the hallway.
Evelyn heard muffled conversation.
When he returned, he had removed his bow tie.
“What did you tell her?”
“That the wedding is postponed.”
“Postponed?”
“Canceled if you want.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“James.”
“I mean it.”
“You have two hundred people outside.”
“I have one fiancée in here.”
Her eyes filled.
He squeezed her hand.
“We can get married tomorrow. Next month. Ten years from now.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“I would prefer sooner than ten years, but I’m flexible.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead she leaned her forehead against his chest.
“I’m sorry.”