Page 71 of City of Liars

“No,” I admitted. The dead girl wasn’t Lily, true; but Mystery Girl had showed up at the orphanage on the 22nd, a day after Lily’s disappearance. So I didn’t have conclusive evidence that the girl who’d been adopted by the Stensons was Lily, either.

“That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to keep talking to my lawyer, after all.”

“No, don’t.” I tapped a pen on the coffee table, channeling my frustration. “Let it go, Mom. Please.”

“Surely you’re joking. I should have done this years ago.”

“Is it the money?” I got to my feet, pacing. “If that’s what you’re after, I’ll give you whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“No.” She enunciated each syllable, as if explaining something to a child. “It’s not the money. It’s about making sure the Carters get their just deserts.”

“Come on,” I argued. “I talked to my own lawyer, and your suit doesn’t hold water.” I hadn’t, but she was hardly going to call my bluff.

“The hell it doesn’t,” she spat. “And that’s not what my lawyer says.”

I barely refrained from asking whether she’d gotten her lawyer’s name off a poster on some bus stop bench. That wouldn’t help my cause. “The people you’re angry at are dead, Mom. Liv and her family aren’t to blame. This is all about revenge, and that’s not going to help anyone.” I drew a deep breath, then went for it. “I’ve never asked you for anything, but I’m asking you now. Let it go.”

There was silence, and I hoped that, by some miracle, she was considering what I had to say. But when she spoke, she sounded as vindictive as ever. “You’re too late, Theo. You call it revenge; I call it getting what we’re owed. And I don’t mean money. We’re still on the hook for what they did to us. And I will never, ever stop until I make them pay.”

46

Liv

The whole way back to Wilmington, I fumed. I was hurt, sure. But more than that, I was angry…at myself, at him, at the world. Fuck Theo, I decided, tossing back my second glass of white wine and indulging in what my mother would call ‘foul language unbefitting a lady.’ In fact, fuck men in general. Men sucked. All men. Hot piano-playing men, stupid cheating men, men I had not yet had the misfortune to meet. I would be married to my work, the way nuns were married to Christ. I’d take a vow of chastity. And I’d solve this freaking mystery.

Buoyed by my newfound conviction and a third glass of Chardonnay, I took a cab straight from the airport to my parents’ house. I used my key, flung open the door, and stomped inside, fueled by righteous indignation.

My mission carried me into the sitting room, where my mother was curled up with a cup of tea and an Elin Hilderbrand novel. As I swept through the doorway, she put down the tea, dropped the novel on the floor, and let out an undignified squeak.

“Olivia! You startled me!”

“Good,” I announced. “We can all use a little shaking up. Which is why I’m going to tell you what I was doing in New York this weekend. That’s where I was, on my date.” My brow furrowed as I considered this. “Or, maybe it wasn’t a date. It wasn’t supposed to be one, but then it kind of turned out that way, accidentally. So you see, I wasn’t really lying.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Are you drunk? Also, where’s your daughter?”

“Chloe,” I said, sweeping out a hand, “is with her father, who will be taking her to school tomorrow. As such, I felt free to partake in some refreshing beverages on my flight home.”

She got to her feet and headed for the doorway that led to the kitchen. “You,” she said, her expression flickering between incredulity and disgust, “need some black coffee.”

“I don’t need coffee. What I need is honesty. If I can’t get it, I’m damn sure going to give it. And I would appreciate it if you’d do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say.”

My tirade brought my father thundering down the hall from his study, cigar in hand. “What the hell is going on here?” he snapped at me.

“Oh, good. You’re here too.” I gave him a bland smile. “I’d rather just say this once.” Drawing a deep breath, I laid out the whole story, minus the defiling of Krista’s rug.

When I finished, my parents stared at me, jaws agape, like well-bred guppies. It would’ve been funny if not for the dangerous storm brewing in my father’s eyes.

“I get that you’re mad,” I said, looking from him to my mom. “I should’ve told you the truth. But that’s the thing. The truth is what’s really important, no matter the cost. Which is why I’m going to look for that journal and talk to Grandma Ella about getting the test again.”

My father brandished his cigar. “You’ll do no such thing,” he boomed, with the incontrovertible authority of the CEO of Carter Industries.

The wine had made me braver—or dumber—than usual, because I didn’t back down, the way I’d done my entire life. “I will too,” I told him, which unfortunately came out sounding more toddler-with-a-tantrum rather than I-am-woman-hear-me-roar. I lifted my chin and tried again. “You said it wasn’t important to dig into this any further, but what you meant was we won, and if we open it up again, you might not come out on the side of the angels. You don’t care about the truth, you care about appearances. But this all happened before you were born. No matter what, it wasn’t your sin or your vindication.”

“Our sin?” My father’s eyebrows rose so high, they almost disappeared beneath his hair. “This isn’t a matter of religion, Olivia. It’s a matter of logic and practicality. Something that you”—his nostrils flared, as if inhaling the offensive scent of irrationality—“seem to have abandoned completely.”

“Oh, I’m practical all right,” I told him, seething. “I know what it’s like not to know where you’ve come from. What it’s like to have that chance taken from you. And I won’t do that to Grandma Ella.”

“Is this about your birth parents?” My mother sighed, exasperated. “Honestly, Olivia, I thought we worked through all this years ago. And what were you doing in New York with that man? Please don’t tell me you’re having some kind of fling with him, of all people. Surely not even—” She caught herself before she could finish, her lips pursing in distaste, but I could hear the rest of it, as clearly as if she’d spoken aloud: Surely not even you could stoop so low.