She looked directly at Jonah, taking a deep breath. He got up and came around to Quinn’s side, sliding in next to her where he could face his parents.

“Mom, Dad,” he began, “she’s got something really important to tell you, and I don’t want you to be frightened.”

Their expressions changed. Now there were worried faces all around.

Quinn slid her sunglasses off and then her baseball cap, letting her hair loose and free.

She could see the confusion in Jules’s eyes. She looked like she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Or was supposed to be seeing.

“What’s this all about?” Noah asked, for the first time losing the politeness in his voice. He was catching on that she wasn’t just there to help the homeless.

“It’s about me,” Quinn said. She locked eyes with Jules, the mother who had probably suffered the most loss. Though she exuded grace and kindness, she also carried a certain sadness about her. Quinn had to admit, she’d hoped the woman would take one look and know who she was. But of course, this wasn’t the movies; it was real life.

“You?” Jules asked.

“Yes, me. My name is Quinn Maguire, but once upon a time, I had another name.” She directed her gaze at Jonah. “I was Nama, and your son found me,” she said. “He was determined to bring me home to you, and now I’m here, thanks to modern technology and a vial of saliva.”

Jonah looked surprised. Quinn thought briefly of Auntie Wang and hoped that she wouldn’t mind not being acknowledged for putting the pieces together first. Quinn would have to have a talk with her, Helen, and Carmen later, but this was how she wanted it to go. It was the least she could do for a brother whose life she had ruined. And if he had stayed to meet with her that day at the restaurant, he would have been the first to tell her who she was.

Noah moved his arm higher around his wife, bringing her closer to him. Jules kept staring at her, taking in every inch of her face, hair, and hands. She still looked perplexed.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” Jules finally asked, her voice shaking.

“It’s not a joke. It’s true,” Jonah said, reaching over to take his mother’s hand. “The DNA proves it. Nama lived that day, and this is her. I swear it, Mom. This isn’t one of my hallucinations.”

Quinn turned her head and pulled back her hair, showing them the birthmark. But she knew even that could be manufactured with some ink and a good artist.