“Yes.” I dive in. “Did you foster a lot of children?”

“You were the only one.”

“Was I that bad?” I mean it as a joke to break the ice, but it sounds pathetic.

“How could you be bad? You didn’t speak when you arrived.”

The ground shifts beneath me. “What do you mean?”

“You were with us for about a year but only spoke the last two months.” Faith toys with the gold signet ring on her pinkie. “I’ve always wondered why you didn’t talk at first.”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “The first six years of my life, until I was adopted, are a complete blank.”

Faith sits back. “Complete?”

I dig out the plastic figures in my pocket—the woman, the girl, and the remnants of a swing set—and spill them onto the table. “All I know is that when I arrived in High River, I brought these. Did you give them to me?”

“You came with them.” She points at the woman in the yellow dress. “The only time we ever saw you upset was when Bennett tried to play with that figure. Scott had to hold you back—he thought you were going to claw her eyes out.”

My cheeks warm. “That’s embarrassing.”

“You were just a little kid. God only knows what was taken from you before you arrived at our home.”

The skin on the back of my neck tightens. “Did my caseworker ever mention my past?” Faith shakes her head. I take a sip of water to hide my disappointment.

“What do you do now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m a psychic-medium.” Faith’s brows arch high. I’ve been judged enough for one day and push back my chair. “Thanks for your time.”

“I’m actually not surprised you’re a psychic,” Faith says.

“Seriously?”

She grins. “Yes! Every single time Scott, Bennett, or I lost something in the house, you’d find it! Can’t believe I forgot this. Car keys, a ring, her favorite toy. At first, Scott thought you were hiding stuff. You know, as a way of making yourself more . . . valuable. God, that sounds awful. Like we only would’ve fostered you if you could make our lives easier. Anyway, he decided to test you. To be perfectly honest, Scott didn’t want a child around who would be that . . . mischievous, thought it wouldn’t be a good influence on Bennett. He hid one of my shoes, a key to the shed, and some of Bennett’s costume jewelry. You found it all. Straightaway.”

It takes effort to chuckle. “Well, if my career doesn’t pan out, it’s nice to know I have something to fall back on.”

Faith walks me back through the hallway, opens the front door. It’s almost dark. She snags her keys from a hook and follows me down the stone path.

“Where are you headed?”

“Back to my hotel on Broadway.”

“Did you drive?”

“I walked.”

Faith nods at her sedan. “I’ve got time. I’ll drop you before yoga.”