I took a deep breath. “I was drawn to Violet for so many reasons. She was beautiful and smart and so alive. When she walked into a room all eyes were on her. She asked me questions about my past, my likes and dislikes, my boyfriends, my hopes and dreams.” I paused to picture the Cool Kids’ Table. “Violet seemed to know I needed her friendship. I think she tried to help build me up. I don’t know.” I set my wine glass down, embarrassed. “I loved her very much, Deanna. She knew I wanted to be a writer. I’ve found out even more about your mother because I’ve spent most of the past year writing a book about her. Before I say another word, you should know she tried very hard to find you. She was told it was impossible to obtain your records, and you’d be better off if she’d give up trying, anyway. An investigator convinced Violet she could cause a lot of hurt by contacting you—that you might not know you were adopted.”

“I didn’t,” Deanna replied. “It’s still hard for me to believe my parents never told me. If Aunt Anne hadn’t, I’d never have known.” She frowned. “I don’t understand why you’d be writing a book about her. Can I see it?”

“I’m sorry, Deanna, I can’t show it to anyone yet. I promised. I can fill in a lot of blanks for you, though. Violet had a very full life, and she thought it would make an interesting novel.”

Deanna looked puzzled. “But, she wasn’t any sort of celebrity, I know that much. So, why?”

I laughed a little. “She was a celebrity at Fairfield, I promise you. Look, it’s probably never going to be published, but I’ve sent it off and I’m waiting to hear. If it’s not, I’ll show you everything I’ve typed. The truth is, you’ve had to process a lot very quickly.” I patted her hand. “Let’s take this one step at a time. You should hear, rather than read, about your mother.”