They looked nothing alike. Not even a little bit, from what she could tell without staring. Kate was tall and thin - lanky is what her mother might have called her - and had medium brown hair. Even her skin tone was different as she was more olive complected while Mia was pale.

“Kate?” she said softly as she stood up.

“That’s me,” Kate said, a slight smile on her face. She had a northern accent, which was one of Mia’s fears. Most northerners didn’t understand her southern twang and folksy sayings.

“I’m Mia,” she said, holding out her hand. Kate took it and just about squeezed her bones into dust.

“Sorry. I’ve always had a firm grip. I didn’t expect you to be so…”

“So what?”

“Miniature,” she said, dryly.

Carl cleared his throat, probably trying to break the tension in the room. “If you ladies would both have a seat.”

Mia sat back down in her chair, completely let down by their first interaction. This was supposed to be her long lost sister, and yet she already found her to be an abrasive person. Thoughts of getting their nails done together and having late night gossip parties were replaced in her mind by Kate trying to kill her while she slept.

“So, you dragged me here from Rhode Island, Mr. Stowers. What’s the big secret that my abandoning birthmother left for me?”

Mia felt rage well up inside of her. “Excuse me!” she said, standing up again, her jaw clenched. “Our mother was a good, decent, hard working woman. You don’t refer to her that way!”

Kate glared at her. “Well, excuse me for thinking about her a little differently. The woman left me behind like yesterday’s news.”

“Ladies, please. This is a very sore subject. I get it.”

“Do you, Carl?” Kate said, sarcastically. “Did your birthmother leave you in a basket by the river?”

“What?” Mia said.

“I think she’s just being dramatic for effect, Mia,” Carl said, waving his hand.

“Well, who knows how I was left? I don’t know my story at all because I only just found out I was even adopted. Excuse me for being a little emotional about this whole thing.” Kate sat back against her chair and crossed her arms.

Mia wanted to feel bad for her, to feel empathy. But right now all she felt was anger at someone talking badly about her mother.

Carl, sensing they needed to move on from the tension, opened the wooden box he’d had sitting on his desk since Mia first came in to ask him about her sister. He pulled out the same envelope Mia saw the day she met with him.

“Charlene was my client for a very long time.”

“Charlene?” Kate said.

“Oh, that’s your mother’s name.”

“She wasn’t my mother,” Kate said, dryly.