Chapter Thirty-Three

It was a night she wished had never ended. After Amelia called, they had arranged a movie night with some hot chocolate and a bag of sugary treats. It wasn’t Evie’s idea of a reunion, but if that was what her biological daughter wanted to do, then that was what would happen.

Surprisingly, they only made their way through half a movie. It was some action flick that neither of them really had an interest in. Perhaps it was because they both thought of the film as background noise. The real reason Amelia was there had to be something more personal. How were they supposed to act normal when they were still so unacquainted?

“I better head home soon,” Amelia said, checking her watch.

Evie did the same, noticing with a shock that it was almost four in the morning. The time seemed to have been swallowed into a black hole. “You can stay if you like. I’ll throw clean sheets on the bed, and you can stay there.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll take the couch.”

“That’s not fair.”

Evie smiled and shook her head. “I’ve missed out on twenty-one years of your life. The very least I can do is let you sleep in my bed. Do you need something? Clothes or maybe a toothbrush?”

“I’m fine.”

As Evie got up to make the bed, she suddenly felt like a mother. The thought disgusted her in a way—she hadn’t earned that title, so it didn’t seem right to claim it. There was so much to catch up on, but she couldn’t think straight in her exhausted haze. She hadn’t stayed up that late for a social event in years. Only for work, which was her real addiction.

“Who is this guy?” Amelia asked from the other room.

“What guy?”

“The one hugging you in the picture.”

Evie finished stuffing the pillow into its case, smoothed down the fresh bedding, and went back to the living room. Amelia was standing beside the shelf on the far wall, going over the gallery of photo frames. The one she had in her hand was old and faded. “That’s your uncle Mason. That killer I was telling you about? This is the man investigating him.”

“Is he a cop?”

“He was. Now he’s a private investigator. But he works with the cops sometimes.”

Amelia nodded as if she approved, rubbed her hands together, and yawned. She rubbed her eyes and turned back to her mother. Her real mother. “I read about Marvin Wendell, you know. His sister, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re all over the internet. A couple of whackos. Mason’s name cropped up a few times. I just never put it together that you two were related. Not until now.”

Evie smiled. “Would you like to meet him?”

“You’d let me do that?”

“Of course, Amelia. You’re family. Just do me a favor and clear this with your mom.”

“Why? I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”

Evie nodded, supposing she was. It was a bizarre feeling meeting her own child when she was no longer… well, a child. Sure, she’d dropped in on her from time to time just to see how she was getting along, but she’d never introduced herself. Now here she was, looking at a blonde, slightly more stubborn version of herself.

“We’ll arrange it for another time. First, the couch beckons.”

“Thanks,” Amelia said, then disappeared into the bedroom.