I knew only one Evelyn Hartwell.
Or I thought I did.
“No.”
Adrian said nothing.
“Evelyn Hartwell is my mother’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“She moved overseas when I was nine.”
“Yes.”
“She hasn’t spoken to our family in eighteen years.”
Adrian swallowed.
“She has now.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I can explain.”
“Then do it.”
He looked toward our luggage.
“Our car for the airport comes at one.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“Actually, it does.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
I took the storage receipt.
“Is she in Bellmere right now?”
“Yes.”
“Does my mother know?”
“No.”
“My uncle?”
“No.”
“Anyone?”
“One person.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
The absurdity of that nearly made me dizzy.
“My estranged aunt comes back after eighteen years and contacts my fiancé instead of me.”
“Yes.”
“And you keep it secret.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian looked at me.
“Because she had something that belonged to your mother.”
