“Neither do I.”
“But I am not going to take her from you on the side of a road.”
Something in Ethan loosened.
Only slightly.
Alexandra said:
“Take me to the diner.”
“I’ll follow.”
“What if your car stalls?”
“It won’t.”
He looked at the repaired connector.
Then at her shoes.
“Drive carefully.”
She almost laughed.
Instead she said:
“Don't disappear.”
Ethan looked at her for a long moment.
“I won't.”
The diner was called Alpine Rose.
It consisted of eight booths, a counter, a pie case, and a neon sign that buzzed even in daylight.
Alexandra walked inside wearing a red evening gown and gold heels beside a grease-stained mechanic carrying a frightened eight-year-old girl’s stuffed rabbit.
Every person looked.
Alexandra did not care.
A waitress pointed toward the rear booth.
“Sit wherever.”
Ethan chose the booth farthest from everyone.
Nora sat beside him.
Alexandra sat opposite.
For almost a minute, nobody spoke.
Nora had stopped crying.
That was worse.
She held her rabbit in both arms.
Alexandra could not stop looking at her.
Every feature was evidence.
The small dent at the center of her chin.
Alexandra’s father had possessed the same.
The way Nora pressed her lips together when frightened.
Alexandra’s mother.
And the left ear.
A tiny notch near the upper edge.
The obstetrician had pointed it out when she was born.
“Just one of those little things that makes her hers.”
Alexandra gripped the table beneath.
Ethan saw.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Honest.
Nora looked at her.
“What was my name?”
Alexandra froze.
Ethan whispered:
“Nora…”
“No.”
The girl looked at Alexandra.
“If I was your baby, what was my name?”
Alexandra’s tears returned.
“Emilia.”
Nora looked down.
“Emilia Rose Vale.”
“I called you Emmy.”
“You hated sleeping unless I sang the same song four times.”
“You had a yellow blanket with white stars.”
“You used to grab my hair so hard I thought you’d make me bald.”
Nora’s mouth trembled.
Alexandra smiled through tears.
“You laughed for the first time when I dropped a spoon.”
Ethan watched her.
There was no performance.
No convenient research.
These were memories spoken from someplace beyond control.
Nora touched the locket.
“You gave me this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My mother gave it to me to give you.”
“Can you open it?”
Nora immediately covered it with her hand.
Ethan said:
“She doesn't let anyone.”
Alexandra stared.
“Why?”
Ethan looked at Nora.
“Because Hannah told her it belonged only to her.”
“Hannah?”
“My wife.”
“Her mom.”
The word struck Alexandra.
Nora’s mom.
Not Alexandra.
Hannah.
Of course.
Alexandra looked down.
“Where is she?”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“She died three years ago.”
Alexandra closed her eyes briefly.
“I’m sorry.”
Nora whispered:
“She was sick.”
Alexandra looked at her.
“I'm very sorry.”
Nora rubbed the locket.