He stood abruptly, saying, “Excuse us, everyone. Be back shortly.”

Up in their room, hands shaking, Shallie hit Redial. Cord’s arm was around her waist as Eddie answered.

“Cord and I are by ourselves now,” Shallie told him. “I’m putting the phone on speaker.”

“Good. I’ve been in touch with…” He paused, but somehow Shallie knew whose name he was going to say. And he did. “Christine Fletcher.”

Shallie couldn’t stop shaking. “Then she’s…she’s still alive.”

“Sure is.”

Cord moved her gently toward the bed; they sat down as he continued to hold her close.

“Is she…all right?” Shallie hardly knew what to ask, what to say. Her mother! After a lifetime of grieving, searching, wondering…

“She is. And she asked me the same about you. I was happy to report that you’re doing very well.”

“Where is she?”

“Key West.” Shallie immediately remembered that postcard. “And she’s married to a guy named Doug Elliot. So her name’s Christine Elliot now.”

“Th-thanks.”

“She’d like to speak to you tonight. And she and Doug would like to visit, fly in tomorrow if possible. She doesn’t want to wait. Is that a problem, with your party and all?”

Cord whispered in her ear. “Tell him it’s fine.”

She nodded. “That’ll be okay. But give me an hour or so before she calls.” She turned to Cord. “Where would they stay?” she whispered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out,” he whispered back.

“I’ll have her call at five, your time,” Eddie said. “And I’ll see you tomorrow. By the way, is it all right if I tell Eli—in confidence, of course—since he’s been instrumental in getting this search set up?”

She glanced at Cord and said, “Yes. And it’s fine for him to tell J.P.”

Then the call was over, and she collapsed onto the bed. “Could you let everyone know I’ll see them later?”

“What about telling Carly?”

“You and I will tell her this evening.”

AT PRECISELY FIVE, her cell phone rang. Shallie had spent the intervening hour thinking about the questions she wanted to ask and rehearsing her own responses to the questions she thought Christine was likely to ask.

Despite having waited and hoped so long for this very thing, she wasn’t ready, couldn’t possibly be.

“Hello?”

“Shallie? This is Christine Elliot. Your…mother.”

She couldn’t speak yet. A moment later, she managed to say, “Mom.”

“It’s me. Oh, Shallie, baby, I’ve loved you all these years. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me, too, Mom. But why didn’t you try to get in touch with me earlier?”

“For a long time I was worried about your safety. And later—I didn’t want to disrupt your life. I didn’t know what you’d chosen to do, but I knew you’d succeed at anything you did.”