Mrs. Hartwell still looked confused. “Oh.”

Drew, who was resting a comforting hand on my shoulder, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll explain it to her sometime,” he whispered in my ear.

I wasn’t really listening. I had more important things to worry about.

“Mom.” I could not believe she’d done this. Not that I wasn’t happy to meet my donor mother. I just hadn’t planned on meeting her now, in this way, with my hair in a sweaty pony while wearing a pair of borrowed Timberland boots after I’d just pulled a gun on my ex-boyfriend’s best friend. “Was this really necessary?”

“Well, of course it was, Sabrina!” My mom was clearly upset that her little surprise hadn’t gone over well. “Besides being your mother, Dr. Svenson is a very distinguished veterinarian and animal nutritionist! She works for the Veterinary Scientific Advisory Group! I still don’t understand exactly what that is, but I’m sure it’s very, very important.”

Dr. Svenson gave me a timid smile that looked a little familiar somehow—until I realized, with a shock, that it was my own. “The VSAG is a group that works to develop cooperative relationships between the veterinary community and various other groups to enhance their services.”

Of course. Of course my donor mother was a veterinarian. What else would she be?

I smiled back at her—or tried to, anyway.

“I’m very glad to meet you,” I said, extending my right hand, though I’m pretty sure my fingers were shaking. “I’m so sorry about my mom. She’s a lot.”

“Oh, I know.” Dr. Svenson slipped her hand into mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, while Gary, disturbed that no one was petting him, let out a grumble. “I met her before, you know. And your dad. I quite liked them. That’s why I chose them. I thought they’d be good for . . . well, you. I didn’t know you then, of course, but . . . well, it seems to have worked out. You look . . . happy.”

My eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t only because of what she’d said. It was her touch, as well. Even though it was simply her fingers closing around mine, it felt exactly like the hug I’d received earlier on the porch from my mom: like coming home.

But how was that possible? I didn’t even know this person.

And yet it felt as if I’d known her my entire life. Maybe because I had: I was half her, after all.

“I am happy,” I said, squeezing her hand, not caring if she noticed my tears or shaking fingers. “Thank you. Thank you for what you did for me. I’m really, really happy.”

She smiled—a much less timid smile this time, more like mine when I was genuinely pleased about something—and said, “That makes me glad. And no need to thank me. I was financially compensated by your parents for my time, and I used that compensation to help defer the costs of my education. There was an element of selfishness to the act, too, I suppose. I knew I was never going to have children of my own, because I’m not a maternal sort of person. But it’s a basic human instinct to want to see your DNA passed on. So helping a couple seeking a child of their own seemed the most logical way to go about it.”

Well, okay. Maybe we didn’t have that much in common.

At least until Gary, thoroughly disgusted that no one was petting him, reached up and swiped at both our hands with a velvet paw, and let out a dissatisfied meow. Dr. Svenson looked down at him and laughed.

“And I like your cat very much,” she said, stroking an ecstatic-looking Gary behind his ear.

“Thanks,” I said, laughing as well. “I rescued him from the local animal shelter. Can you believe he’d been there for years and no one wanted him?”

“Their loss is your gain. I notice he has no teeth. Stomatitis?”

“Yes!” I couldn’t believe she recognized the illness. But then again, she was a vet. “The surgery cost me twelve hundred dollars, but he’s been so much happier ever since.”

“Yes, it’s amazing how well feline stomatitis patients do after tooth extraction.”

“And you’ll never guess what Dr. Svenson’s done, Sabrina,” my mom cried, clapping her hands to get our attention. She clearly felt she was losing her audience, and for my mom, that was never a good thing. “Because she’s an animal nutritionist and part of this big veterinary organization, or whatever it is, she has the numbers to the heads of all the pet food companies. So she got all of them to donate food to the Hurricane Marilyn recovery fund! We brought giant bags of dog food, cat food, rabbit food, cat litter—you name it!”

“That is so great,” I said, smiling at my two moms. “We’re so grateful. You can’t even believe how much we need that donation. We were basically down to one bag of cat food, and we were giving it to dogs.”

It was the we that finally got my mom to notice Drew, standing behind my chair. Maybe she’d have eventually noticed him without it, but it was the we that got her, and possibly the fact that he was standing so close, with one hand still hovering protectively on my shoulder.

“Oh,” she said, giving him an appraising look. I watched her take in his long, darkly tanned limbs—bare, of course, because he was wearing his usual low-slung cargo shorts—and flat, lightly-haired stomach, since his linen shirt was, as usual, barely buttoned due to the heat. “And you are?”

“Mom, this is my, er, friend Drew Hartwell.” I had recovered myself sufficiently to rise from the puffy chair and make introductions. “Drew, this is my mother, Judge Justine Beckham.”

“How do you do?” Drew leaned forward to shake the hand of my tiny, flight-suited mother.

“How do you do?” Mom’s blue-eyed gaze took in every part of Drew that she’d missed while examining him from farther away. “Are you a special friend of my daughter’s?”

“Mom.” How could my mother still have the ability to mortify me after all these years?

But Drew took her, as he seemed to do everything else in life, in stride.

“Why, yes, I am.” Grinning in that infuriating, adorably wry way he had, he laid an arm around my shoulders, then steered me around so that I was facing both of my mothers. “I’m very happy to meet both of you ladies, because you seem very special to Bree, and recently, Bree’s become very special to me.”

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. Oh my God. Please make it stop.

Dr. Svenson nodded calmly at Drew while still petting Gary. “So nice to meet you.”

My mother, however, could barely contain herself. “Well, that’s just lovely, Drew. You know, Sabrina hasn’t had a special friend in a while, and honestly, we’ve been a bit worried about her, haven’t we, Steen? Steen!”

Steen looked up from his satellite phone, on which he’d been texting. “What?”

“This is Steen Frederickson, my special friend,” Mom said, reaching a hand toward Steen, who obediently crossed the room to take it, though he didn’t really look up from the screen of his phone. “You don’t mind, do you, Sabrina? I’ve been so lonely without Daddy, and Steen’s always been so good to us.”

I smiled. I was surprised it had taken my mom this long to find a “special friend.” She’d never been the kind of person who liked being alone with her own thoughts. I was just glad the person she’d chosen was someone as steady and sensible as Steen.