Diane stepped out when she saw us. Her hair had gone almost completely gray, and deep wrinkles surrounded her eyes.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Mary,” she whispered.
“Don’t ‘Mary’ me. Where is my daughter?”
Diane nervously twisted her purse strap.
“Blair’s alive. And Oliver really is your grandson.”
“Then why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Blair needs help.”
“She’s in trouble, Mary. Serious financial trouble. She could lose the house where she’s raising Oliver.”
“And you came to me for money?”
“I came because you’ve always been good at fixing things. Blair needs help.”
I stared at her. “How long have you known where my daughter was?”
Diane looked away. “She’s been part of my life for quite some time.”
“I’ll explain everything.”
“Grandma says Mom came to live with them when she was eighteen,” Oliver interrupted.
I turned sharply toward Diane.
“Them? Who else was living with you?”
Diane quickly opened the car door.
“We should go see Blair. I’ll explain everything later.”
The door opened.
I knew she was hiding something. But after fifteen years, I wasn’t about to miss my chance to see my daughter.
Diane drove us to a small house on the outskirts of town. The lawn was overgrown, and a faded “For Sale” sign leaned against the porch railing.
My heart pounded as we approached the front door.
Diane knocked.
There she was.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
And there she was.
My Blair.
Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. She looked exhausted, but I’d have recognized that face anywhere.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered, stepping forward with my arms outstretched.
“She can help.”
Blair immediately stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
I froze.
Diane cleared her throat. “Blair, I brought your mother because I think she can help.”
Blair’s face turned red. “I told you not to involve her!”
Oliver looked between us, confused. “Mom? Isn’t this the lady who can help us?”
“You destroyed one family.”
“Go inside, honey,” Blair said sharply.
I swallowed. “Blair, why don’t you want to see me?”
She laughed bitterly. “Because you already destroyed one family. I’m not letting you destroy mine.”
I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
My ex-husband.
“I know what you did to Dad. How you treated him. How you kept him away from me for years.”
“Blair, that’s not—”
“Dad told me everything.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Richard. My ex-husband.
“No. Leave.”
The man who’d walked out when Blair was three.
“Your father lied to you,” I said.
“No. Leave.”
She started closing the door.
I stepped closer.
She shut the door.
“I don’t know what your father told you. But I spent fifteen years looking for you, Blair. Does that sound like someone who wanted you gone?”
For a moment, her expression changed. Then she silently shut the door.
I drove home with Blair’s accusations echoing in my head.
Richard had left when she was three. He’d simply announced one evening that he was tired of being a husband and father.
I found divorce papers.
I’d never stopped him from seeing her. He’d stopped coming.
I went upstairs and pulled an old cardboard box from my closet.
Inside were dozens of letters I’d mailed Richard, begging him to visit Blair. There were birthday cards she’d drawn for him, too.
Beneath them, I found our divorce papers. They clearly stated that Richard had visitation rights.
I stared at the date.
Then an old bank statement caught my eye.
Just days before leaving us, Richard had withdrawn nearly all our savings. He’d claimed he needed the money to settle some debts.
I stared at the date. Around that same time, Diane had suddenly grown distant.
Back then, I’d thought she was simply uncomfortable with my divorce.
But now I wondered whether those two things were connected.
“We need to talk.”
The next morning, I decided I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Diane to tell me the truth.
