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Zach pushed on the bell.
Soft chimes responded in clear, dulcet tones.
Adria’s stomach clenched.
Within seconds, the door was answered by a svelte woman of about thirty, with worried eyes and fingers that moved constantly from the doorjamb to her throat.
“Mrs. Bassett?” Zach asked. “I’m—”
“Mr. Danvers, yes, I know. And this is Ms. Nash,” she guessed. Her smile was friendly but nervous. “Please come in. I did as you suggested and called Portland. They faxed me pictures of you both along with the articles about this London thing. I have to apologize,” she added, leading them past a grandfather clock that ticked in the foyer, to a small room that had once been the parlor. “We don’t pay much attention to anything other than the local news. My husband’s a banker and he’s more informed than I, but I really didn’t know anything about the kidnapping. I was only a child when it happened and I lived in New York City…Ah, well, I’ve rambled on, haven’t I? I’ll call Virginia down and you can speak with her in here. Please, please, have a seat. I’ll have Martha bring you drinks—tea, lemonade, something stronger—?”
“We’re fine,” Zach assured her.
“Yes, well, I’m sure there’s something. Now, if it does turn out that she’s this Slade woman…oh, dear, well, she can’t be looking after Chloe now, can she?” Still fluttering on, she left them alone in a room decorated in soft taupe shades.
Adria sat on the edge of a love seat and Zach stood near the window, staring out across the bay.
While Mrs. Bassett was away, a maid slipped into the room and left a silver tea service on a glass-topped coffee table.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway and Adria braced herself. Would she recognize the woman who may have stolen her away from her natural parents, the woman who had changed the course of her life forever?
“—but I’m not expecting anyone,” a reed-thin voice protested.
“I know, but they say they’re friends of yours, long-lost acquaintances.”
“Really, Mrs. Bassett, I don’t know anyone—”
The voice, like the scent of a sachet locked for years in a forgotten drawer, drifted into the room and caused Adria’s heart to skip a beat. The floor seemed to fall away from her feet as a woman stepped into the room. She was small, birdlike, with graying dark hair and plain features, but when her gaze landed on Adria, she stopped stock-still. “No,” she mouthed, but emitted no sound. What little bit of color had been in her face drained quickly away. “Oh, dear God,” she whispered faintly. Recovering slightly, she asked, “Who—who are you?” She forced a detached smile, but her lower lip trembled slightly.
“Take a guess,” Zach suggested.
“I don’t know—”
“Sure you do, Ginny. This is London.”
Virginia’s eyes darted from one to the other. “London?”
“London Danvers, the girl you took to Montana to live with Victor and Sharon Nash, the girl you pawned off as your daughter though your own child had been dead for years.”
“No!” she said, but she licked her lips nervously. “Mrs. Bassett, I don’t know what kind of lies these people have been telling you, but—”
“The police have been called, Virginia,” Velma said calmly. “If they’re lying—”
“Oh, Mother Mary!” Her hand flew to her chest, covering heart. “You didn’t—”
“Why don’t you explain everything,” Zach said, motioning to a chair. “There’s a chance we can work something out.”
“Oh, my Lord—” she protested, but dropped onto the sofa and gazed out the window to the clouds rolling over the green waters of the bay. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes and ran slowly down her cheeks as her gritty determination gave way to acceptance of what had to be. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Tell us, Ginny,” Zach said, relentless while Adria’s heart went out to the woman who seemed to have aged twenty years since stepping into the room.
Velma Bassett stood near the doorway, bracing herself on the painted woodwork as she stared at the nanny she had trusted with her child for over eighteen months.
“I—I didn’t want to do it,” Ginny said, reaching into her pocket and finding a handkerchief to dab at her face. “But it was so much money.”
“What was?”
“I was promised fifty thousand dollars if I would take London away.”
