Gertie comes out of the kitchen, drying her hands on one of my hand towels. Weirdly, she’s not holding her cane, even though she barely seemed able to take a step without it when she arrived. “No,” Gertie says. “It was in the orange juice. She drank it about ten minutes ago.”

My mouth falls open. “Gertie?”

“And you put the whole bottle in there?” Monica asks.

“Every last pill.”

Monica smiles at Gertie—this time a genuine smile. “Thanks, Mom,” she says.

Chapter 38

My head is spinning. I don’t know if it’s from whatever was in the orange juice or the fact that Gertie and Monica are suddenly co-conspirators, and possibly even mother and daughter. Is this a dream? Am I hallucinating this? It certainly can’t be real!

“You…” I make my gaze focus on Gertie, which is becoming increasingly difficult. “You’re Monica’s mother?”

“Oh, you’re quick,” Gertie laughs. “Maybe you are smart enough to be with Sam.”

“But,” I sputter. “I met Monica’s mother. I was at her apartment the other day. She… you’re not her.”

Monica sneers. “That was my stepmother, Louise. How could you think that was my mother? She’s nothing like me!”

I look between Monica and Gertie, and now I finally see it—the resemblance. It’s in the eyes and the chin. But I’m starting to get the feeling there’s more of a similarity than just the superficial. I remember what Cynthia said, about Monica’s “crazy mother” always showing up.

“I should thank you, Abby,” Gertie says, her eyes glinting. “When Sam first came to work to see you and he told me he was a math professor at the same school my daughter was attending, I told her right away this was someone she needed to get to know. Didn’t I, Monica?”

Monica nods. “I signed up for his class the very next semester. And… well, my mother was right, as usual. Sam and I fell in love instantly.”

“After I engineered my early retirement, I told Monica just what to say to get hired,” Gertie says proudly. “I told her to mention the fiber yogurt commercials and you’d be falling over yourself to hire her.”

They played me like a violin. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I have to grip the table to keep from falling out of my seat.

“I knew how desperate you were for a baby,” Gertie continues. “After you managed to arrange that adoption, I was worried you’d pin down Sam permanently, but… well, we found a way to take care of that. And after the adoption fell through, you were willing to do… well, anything. And if you had any doubts, I knew I’d be able to dispel them when we talked on the phone.”

My vision blurs for a moment, and I blink until it comes back in focus. “On the phone?”