“But I thought…” He let the statement hang in the air.
“Then you thought wrong.” She cringed at her churlish tone. She was taking out her anxiety on him, and he didn't deserve it. “I’m sorry.”
“I was wrong to assume.” He sounded apologetic.
“You made a reasonable assumption.” The panic receded, ebbing away much slower than it’d come on. “I traveled little when I was younger. In fact, I hardly traveled at all. Everything I needed was at home.”
“Summer holidays?”
“Riding lessons, swimming lessons, French lessons. Anything to keep me occupied and out of the way.” Explaining her childhood was always difficult for those who couldn’t contextualize it.
“Was it a lonely childhood?”
“I had nannies, instructors, and Mrs. Grant. I was busy, so I didn't have time to be lonely.” Crossing her fingers, she hoped he accepted her words at face value, because she was telling a bald-faced lie.
“How about school friends?”
Keep it light.“A few acquaintances. I went to a school with kids from some of the richest parents in town, and even I stood apart. Being the only child of a billionaire didn't lend itself to making friends easily.”
“No sleepovers?”
“Nothing so pedestrian. Occasionally they invited me to parties, usually when they invited the entire class, and I did go, but I didn't fit in.” She patted the comforter. “I'm not going to pull thepoor little rich girlcard because I lived a privileged existence.”
Jake was silent for a long while. “What about your parents? I don't remember hearing about your mother.”
“My mother died when I was two, and my father was wed to his work. He never remarried. I used to dream of having a stepmother and stepsisters. I was even willing to let them treat me like Cinderella if it meant having a family.” She cringed. “Here I am, feeling sorry for myself.”
“You’re entitled.” A beat passed—as if he was weighing what to say. “I had a happy childhood and a good upbringing, yet those same parents raised Lydia who claims to have had a lousy childhood. She, in turn, has been apathetic in her parental responsibilities with Olivia.”
“I forgot to ask, have they found your sister?”
“Nope. She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Without looking for her daughter?
“When Wolf looked for Olivia, he checked out a couple of Lydia's haunts. A friend of hers told him my sister had enough and the drug arrest was the last straw. The friend said she planned to leave town.”
“Do you believe it?”
“Would I believe my sister jumped bail and left town to avoid prosecution on drug charges? Do I believe my sister abandoned her own daughter when the girl needed her most?” His exasperation was crystal clear. “I don't want to believe her capable of these things, but clearly this is exactly what she's done. If I find her—”
“What?” She cut him off. “Lydia’s a victim as well. It's hard to see that through her selfish and self-destructive behavior, but he took something from her as sure as he took something from Olivia.”
“And what was that?” Jake sounded incredulous.
“Her anonymity. She went from being a drug addict, and a mother of questionable ability, to mother of a missing child. She was also betrayed by that monster.”
Jake was silent.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m getting through to him.
“I remember when Olivia went missing.” She sniffed the lavender in her lilac room, but wasn’t being enveloped by the calm she sought. “I remember because the media camped out at my front door, seeking my perspective, my opinions, my comments.Ihad only been back nine months. Since I was twenty, they reasoned I was an adult—which couldn't have been further from my reality. In some ways my maturation stopped at twelve. I wasn't savvy in the ways of the world, and I certainly was in no way competent to make a comment on Olivia’s circumstances. One truly stupid reporter tried to get my father's perspective on the situation.” She laughed mirthlessly. “He almost lost his job.”
Smoothing an imagined crease in the comforter, she stroked it, trying to let the rhythmic motion soothe her. “I was riveted to the television, waiting for updates. I prayed they’d find Olivia, but I also watched them crucify your sister. She didn't have an army of public relations people to help her script her responses. In some ways, she was a better parent than my father, but you’d never have known it.
“You and I can never guess what Lydia endured, only to have Olivia reappear. All those years of not knowing, of fearing the worst. Maybe Lydia survived by telling herself Olivia was already dead because the alternative was unimaginable. I'm sure someone told her to keep her hopes up. Laura Derks had come back, why not Olivia?
“Here's the thing, Jake. What Lydia will never admit, but I can guarantee happened…there was a moment she lost faith. When Olivia came back, she wondered if her daughter saw that moment of weakness.” Marnie closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her temple. “Mrs. Grant told me about her moment of darkness. That moment when she lost all hope. This from a woman who vowed to never give up, even in the face of my father's insistence they declare me dead.” The memory of Mrs. Grant’s admission again threatened to send her reeling. “She still hasn't forgiven herself for that moment, as if she somehow let me down. I condone nothing Lydia’s done—but I understand some of her motivation. You said yourself it’s only a matter of time before your sister’s arrest makes the news. It might make a better story of intrigue that Lydia has disappeared, and it will be sensational if, and when, she reappears, but that's not your concern. You need to be focused on Olivia and how she's going to cope.”