He dropped the picture. In the seconds that he’d stared at the photo, Blue had pulled out the few pins in her hair, letting it now fall in curls around her face. She was also extending her own neck to reveal its natural state before age took its toll.

No. It can’t possibly be—

“She didn’t die, William,” she said. “Despite all she’s seen and done, she is still alive. And she is very happy to, at long last, meet her great-grandson.”

William had not wanted to go when Rudd returned to the porch, right on cue from where he had been waiting, directing him to follow. He’d stammered something about not moving a muscle, staring at Blue’s face, astonished at the growing resemblance to Nanna, even his own mother. Blue’s eyes were filled with happy tears as Rudd had placed his hand on William’s shoulder, saying there were things he needed to see.

“Go, my boy,” Blue had said. “Read our family’s history. You need to see it for yourself. I’ve waited all my life for this moment. I’m not going anywhere.”

Rudd’s grip had been insistent. Blue turned to Lily and said she’d love to get to know her a little better, and the little girl had warily watched William stand and leave in a haze of astonishment.

Once in the hallway, he’d stopped and turned back to the porch. “No, I’ve got to talk to her—”

“You will. But she wants you to see something first. You’ll understand. And then you can come back,” Rudd beckoned.

Down the hall and then a turn into a butler’s pantry, where a heavy set of double doors stood. Directly beside them was a small painting of a woman standing behind a greyhound. Rudd moved the painting, which hung not on a hook but by hinges, opening it like a cabinet door to reveal a keypad underneath.

After he punched in a code, a loud, mechanical sound echoed from the wall. Rudd opened the doors to reveal a concealed elevator.

It was a short one-floor ride downwards. The basement that opened up before them was a stark contrast to the airy, antiques-filled rooms above. The walls and floor here were all concrete, with rows of shelves stocked with files and folders. A long metal table with a lamp stretched out in the center, with a thin stack of papers in the center.

“It’s all ready.”

The voice was deep but scratchy with age. The back of a man’s head, almost bushy with stark white hair, was barely visible in a corner table, where he sat in front of a laptop.

“Thank you,” Rudd said.

“Is she doing alright?” the man asked. “I do not want her overextended.”

“Good luck telling her to go take a nap.”

The man chuckled, returning to study the computer screen.

“William, have a seat,” Rudd said.