She furrowed her brow. “I would rather lean on the accuracy of your premonitions.”

The accuracy of my premonitions? Well, they were accurate. Except for the one with the fiery car accident when I die. Probably. Maybe. Could be. “I did get three more autobiographies in. Would you like to see them?”

“Only if they’re autobiographies about powerful, strong women who know their minds. You know I can’t stand reading a book if I think the woman is shallow or weak, following a man around like a silly puppy dog and letting him make decisions about her own life.”

I did not laugh at the irony. “No weak or shallow women, I promise.”

* * *

That night I crawled into bed with my cats and dogs and three books.

I am a Crazy Cat Lady.

And a Crazy Dog Lady.

Is there such a thing as a Crazy Alpaca Lady?

At least Marco understood being crazy about animals.

I wondered if Betsy, Johnny, Kayla, and Tilly liked animals. Would they think I was a crazy animal lover?

My mom and aunts and I were not talking. It hurt all of us, but I needed time.

Time to deal with their lies, filled with love though they were.

* * *

When I received a message on my ancestry account the next morning I choked on my coffee and had to spit it out.

Dear Evie,

My name is Betsy Baturra. I am your biological mother. I would love to meet you, to talk to you, but I will respect your privacy if that is what you would like. Your father, Johnny Kandinsky, and I have been together since we were seventeen. We have been married for twenty-seven years. We have a sixteen-year-old daughter, Kayla, your sister, and you have an aunt Tilly. They, too, would love to meet you, but we will all respect your wishes.

Our story is complicated. You may have looked us up online. Please know that the online portrait is not always true.

What is true is that Johnny and I have always loved you. We were devastated to lose you. Every day of our lives we have prayed for your health and happiness.

I am sure that you have read that I have premonitions. I have had no premonitions about you, or your future, but I am wondering if you have the same gift. My mother had it, as did my grandmother, and her mother before her. It is the Irish second sight.

Please call me at the numbers below, or e-mail me, or Johnny, if you would like. I have also enclosed our address. We would be happy to come to you, too, at any time, including today.

Yours sincerely and with all my love,

Your mother, Betsy

I sat back, stunned.

Shocked.

There she was. Betsy Baturra.

Mom.

* * *

I showed the letter to Jules.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.