Nico reached over the table and Valerie admired the way his green shirt clung to his shoulders before taking the folder he handed her. “We’ll say you also did a DNA test to confirm your relationship.”
She opened the folder to find a sheet printed with rows of numbers and letters, and at the bottom was “Probability of Paternity: 99.9998%.” “Where did you get this?”
“I faked it based on online tests and the results from the one Roger found,” he said casually. Maybe Nico wasn’t as uptight as she thought. “The part about your family history is trickier.”
“With the lying and all.”
“Correct. I see two options. One, you were put up for adoption. That’s easiest. Second, we pretend your actual real-life mother is Yvetteand she and Roger are slowly reconnecting.”
“Platonically, as my mother is married.” Valerie wasn’t fond of her stepfather, but had to admit he existed. There was something distasteful about faking an adoption, but then again, this whole plan had put her in a morally gray zone. “What if we pretend I was kidnapped by aliens and recently returned to earth?”
“Needlessly complicated,” dismissed Nico. “Wouldn’t the government be involved? The Canadian version of SETI?”
“I could have been lost in the Bermuda Triangle.”
“Research shows there are no more disappearances in that area than any other part of the ocean.”
“I was captured by pirates. Lost in the forest and raised by bears.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. I’m a ghost.”
“No, no, and no. The paternity test took me long enough to fake. I don’t want to have to do a death certificate.”
She made a face at him. The whole plan was unhinged, but the outcome for Roger was worth it. Her mother always pointed out that it wasn’t easy to be a helper, and that’s what made it worthwhile. “Then I suppose we use the adoption story and hope no one will ask my parents about it directly.”
“We can say they’re private people who don’t want to talk.”
Valerie stress-tested the story. “Roger said his family paid more money nineteen years ago. If I was adopted as a baby, which I would need to be in this scenario to avoid complicating memories, then why am I still with Yvette when I’m eleven?”
Nico sat back. “Good point.”
They thought for a moment. “Roger’s family already thinks poorly of Yvette’s,” said Valerie. “Or some do, if they were involved in this. What if we lean into that? We could say Yvette lied when she asked for the money as if the kid still lived with her. Like fraud.”
“The P who made the payment might know the truth. We don’tknow if they asked for a proof-of-life photo or something.”
“Then they might get spooked and make a mistake for Roger to catch. Boom! We have our person.” Valerie laughed. “Easy peasy.”
Nico gave her a look and swiped on his tablet.“If only. Let’s move on to your appearance.”
“What about it?” She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. Away from her desk she rejected the neutral gravitas of her work wardrobe. Today she was in a turquoise Hawaiian print dress with ruffle cap sleeves. It was hardly an outrageous choice, especially on a summer day.
Or perhaps it was, if Nico’s critical glance was anything to judge by. “The Badgertons are a little more…” He didn’t finish the sentence but showed her a photo of Penny Badgerton-Willis in a plain cream A-line sheath with a single strand of tasteful pearls.
“What, boring?”
“Roger Badgerton’s daughter would not wear earrings shaped like hibiscus.”
Did he think a love of classic neutrals was located on the same chromosome as eye color? It might be time to lay down some rules about what she would and wouldn’t do. Her heart thumped. She hated saying no and used the softest possible language she could so Nico wouldn’t get upset with her.
“I understand you’re trying to make sure this all works out, but I don’t want to change how I dress.” She tried to make a joke. “I’m a Peng, not a Badgerton. I was raised in a Brampton bungalow. No one’s expecting me to wear Louis Vuitton and act like a noble scion of the Badgerton clan.” Although she would wear designer if she could afford to. One of her favorite things to do was haunt consignment stores on the weekends.
“Bar.”
“What?”
“Penny is wearing Bar.”
She hadn’t heard of that particular brand but could tell from Penny’s exquisitely light makeup, the way Nico stressed the capitalB, and the focus on structure over color that it was out of her price range. Also, Roger’s money was earmarked for her Ad Astra bank loan, not clothes.
“I’m going to wear what I have,” she said as firmly as possible, but couldn’t help adding, “if that’s not a problem.”
