“And your husband gave it to you. That must matter.”

“It was part of the divorce settlement. Not exactly sentimental circumstances.” She started the motor and drove down the lane to avoid the conversation.

Keith had left the gate open when he came in. They’d gotten lazy about that because Quercus III didn’t roam like his predecessors. As they arrived at the gate, a car was turning into the lane.

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the nursery hours,” Ellis said.

She rolled down her window. The woman in the driver’s seat opened hers.

“The nursery is only open to the public Wednesday through Saturday,” Ellis told the woman.

“We’re not here for the nursery,” the woman said. “Are you Ellis Abbey?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve come to talk to you.”

Ellis could see someone in the passenger seat. A young woman.

“We were just leaving,” Ellis said.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d see us. We’ve come a long way.”

Her license plate was from New Jersey. But that didn’t mean anything. It was probably a rental.

“Weird,” Keith said.

“Yeah. They better not be selling something.”

She turned around and parked next to the house. She and Keith stood in the gravel driveway and watched the woman park. Both doors opened. The older woman had fair skin and hair and was well dressed. Ellis didn’t recognize her. She now realized that the younger woman was a teenager. She was slim with long, wavy dark hair and tan skin. Her dark eyes were intent on her and Keith.

She looked familiar . . .

No, what she was thinking was impossible. It was a coincidence. Jonah would have told her if her daughter had been found. He knew where Ellis lived. He’d tried to contact her about a life insurance policy a few years ago, but she’d ignored him.

The woman and girl stood in front of Ellis. Why were they staring at her like that?

“I like your house,” the girl said. “And these woods. Is that moss on the trees?”

“It’s called Spanish moss, but it’s not a moss. It’s a bromeliad, if you know what that is.”

“We have lots of moss on the trees where I live.”

“Where is that?” Ellis asked.

“Washington.”

“The moss is beautiful out there. I’ve seen it.”

The older woman extended her hand to Ellis. “I’m Sondra Lind Young.”

Ellis shook her hand. She looked at the girl, waiting to be introduced.

“This is Raven Lind,” Sondra said. “She’s . . . perhaps we should go inside to talk.”

“Why would we need to do that?” Ellis asked.

“Because I used to be Viola,” the teen said.

Ellis felt like she’d stepped into a blaze. Her face was that hot.

Raven. They must have gotten that detail from Jonah. He was the only one who knew about the raven calling the day Viola was taken.

“This is disgusting,” Ellis said to Sondra.

She looked stunned.

“Why would you do this?” Ellis demanded.

“Do what?”

“Try to pass her off as my daughter. What are you after?”

“She is your daughter,” she said. “It’s been proven with genetic testing. We’ve come here from Jonah’s home in New York.”

Ellis had the same hollow feeling she’d had the day she stared at the empty ground where she’d last seen her baby. As if most of her body and soul had vanished with the child. Now the portal had opened again, thrusting her grown child back into her world. But there was so much Ellis had lost that could never come back.

Sondra took out her phone. “Would you like to talk to Jonah to verify? I’ll call him right now.”

The girl’s face was her own, just younger. Ellis even saw a similar ache in her gaze. What had she been through all these years?

“Don’t call him,” Ellis said. “I see it. She’s Viola.”

The girl defiantly lifted her chin. “I want to be called Raven. I’ve been called that since I was a baby.”

“Who named you that?”

“My sister did,” Sondra said. “I’m sorry to say she was the one who took your daughter.”

The raven. She had named the child after that damn raven. It had to be where she got the name. Ellis was afraid she would faint. “Where is she? Where is your sister? Do the police have her?”

“She’s dead,” Sondra said.

“Ellis . . .”

She turned around and saw Keith. How had she forgotten he was there? And talk about wounded gazes.

“What is this? You have a daughter?”

“I . . . yes. She was kidnapped. Sixteen years ago.”

“How could you not have told me this?”

“I can’t explain . . .” She looked at the girl. At her daughter. “Not now.”

“I’ll leave, then,” he said in a shaky voice. “You obviously need time alone with her.”

He went inside and emerged with the keys to his car.

Ellis followed him to his car. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly.

“Sorry seems inadequate, Ellis.” He opened the car door.