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"Until Eleanor came to live with us, Madison and I never had an adult around for Christmases or birthdays. I mean, maybe when my mom was with us, but I don’t remember because I was too young."
"Where was your father?"
She shrugs. "Here and there. He didn’t care about significant dates. He made promises and didn’t keep them. In the end, it didn’t matter to us when he was home. Madison and I had each other. We threw our own little parties with whatever ingredients we could find, whether it was Christmas or a birthday."
Damn.
"Were you hungry, Brooklyn?"
"No. He had an account at a small grocery store near our apartment. Deliveries came every Friday. We were fine."
I doubt it. "From what age?"
Another shrug. "I think from when I was four or five. Madison was two or three. Then one day, he came home with Eleanor, and everything changed. Their relationship didn’t last long—how could it, with my father being a compulsive liar—but she never left us. Everything we know about a mother’s love we learned from her."
"You and Madison are very close, aren’t you?"
"Very. I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do the same for me."
"When you found out you were pregnant, why didn’t you turn to your sister instead of moving in with a guy who was practically a stranger?"
"I wanted to do things differently. Be the best mother in the world. Instead, I gave my babies a liar for a father. Isn’t it ironic that, in the end, I ended up with someone just like the man I despised? A man as dishonest as the one who raised me."
"You didn’t know." I think carefully before speaking further because tact isn’t my strong suit and I don’t want to upset her more than she already seems to be after her confession. "There’s something I need to tell you."
"I’m listening. What is it?"
"I had a private investigator look into Enya. He found twelve women by that name in New York, and he’s checking each one to see if any of them match the woman you knew. I should get a file with their photos later today. At least then we can start narrowing down the possibilities. But there’s something you need to know."
"What?"
"The private investigator working for me has a theory: he doesn’t believe your babies’ father and this woman are related."
"I’d already suspected that."
"There’s more. He thinks this Enya was your ex-partner’s lover."
Brooklyn
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Lover?He was cheating on me while I was pregnant? My God!"
"We don't know yet, and I'm not sure we'll ever know for certain. Actually, the detective's theory is that this Enya was possibly a former lover. He thinks that after you got pregnant, the father of your children rejected her, and maybe that's what triggered the whole tragedy."
"Current or former lover, he brought her to dinner with us! That's sick. It would be like flaunting our happiness in her face. It makes no sense!"
"You said she showed up uninvited. Maybe she did it on purpose, and to avoid a scene or even you discovering their past connection, he kept up that lie."
"Maybe that’s it. After that night we had dinner, Moses told me they’d had a falling out and that I shouldn't let her into our house. That’s why I turned down her invitation to shop for baby clothes. God, how could I have forgotten that?"
"That's important information," he says.
"Yes, probably. I even argued with him about it. I told him that family fights were natural but that, since he didn't have any other relatives, he should reconsider. When our children were born, no one from his side of the family came to visit. And Moses seemed...nervous. Jesus, I forgot to tell the detective so many details! But now the memories are flooding back!"
"No problem. We’ll call the police detective as soon as we arrive at my beach house. I'll also let my private investigator know."
Suddenly, something he said earlier comes back to my mind.