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“Elaine. I want us to talk in person about Sophie. I believe you deserve that much.”

“Fine. I can be there tomorrow.”

Now Vivian watched Elaine sit, stiffly, and cross her arms. “Why do you want to talk now?”

“It was about time, don’t you think?”

Elaine scoffed. “It’s thirty-four years too late. But I guess your conscience finally caught up to you?”

Vivian wished it were her conscience. Living with the consequences of her own decisions was so painful that she had been little more than a shell of herself all these years. A living skeleton of her own making. She felt Ada’s presence in the room, in the dust, all around her. She felt Sophie’s presence, in the roots that gnarled under the house. She sat forward. “Ask me what you want to know.”

Elaine straightened in her chair. “You killed Mr. Lowell, didn’t you?”

She had been telling lies for thirty-four years, but now Vivian answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“I knew you did,” Elaine’s voice was emotionless. “I knew it all along.”

“He abused me. He was going to kill me.”

“That’s what my mother said,” Elaine said. “She told me she tried to help you.You turned her away.”

Vivian regarded her carefully. How could she tell Elaine about how Richard’s wealth had ensnared all of them in the house? Instead, she had said nothing, which she now understood had ruined them just the same. She would not try to absolve herself.

“You poisoned him.”

Vivian settled back. “Yes. I did.”

“How?”

“With the??. The flowers I grew in the garden. They use them in traditional medicine. I knew the roots could kill, so I put it in his sleeping pills.”

“So you poisoned him, and my sister found out?”

“She grew it with me.”

Elaine’s expression went slack with shock. “I don’t believe you. Sophie would never hurt anyone.”

“She didn’t know it was poison. She found me planting it. I couldn’t tell her why I was doing it, so I just said I wanted to grow something next to the roses and she offered to help me.” Even now she remembered Sophie, luminous with hope in the evening, telling her about Ada and cupping the petals. “She took care of the plants.”

“So she helped you,” Elaine said with contempt. “Or you forced her to?”

“I didn’t force anything,” Vivian said. “I’d known about her… and Ada. So I let her confide in me. Trust me. She had no one else to go to. And I thought I could trust her with this in return.”

“I found those flowers,” Elaine said. “In her drawer. After—When I was going through her things. I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t think to look them up until later.” She quieted. “It poisoned her. It must have.” She lifted her eyes to Vivian. “Was that what you wanted?”

“It wasn’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“No. I swear,” Vivian said. “I just didn’t tell her it was poisonous. It would be too suspicious. I didn’t think she’d take care of it as muchas she did…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And it affected her. Which I never wanted.” Sophie had knelt on the floor of the study, with pale lips and tears in her eyes. She’d been so young and frightened. How could Vivian let that happen? “I still don’t entirely understand what happened myself. I don’t know if it was from having too much contact with the plant while she was taking care of it.” She lowered her eyes. “That I do regret. I’m sorry for not warning her.”

Elaine considered her. “But that doesn’t explain why they were in the car, then?”

“They were trying to run away. When Sophie found out the truth about the flower, she got Ada to leave with her.” Vivian took a labored breath. “But I think by that time her body may have already been reacting to the poison.” This, too, she could never forgive herself for. She was the one who had ultimately, inadvertently caused the accident that ended her daughter’s life.

“Youpromised to take care of my family.” Elaine’s voice cracked. “My parents saw you as their savior. Instead, you ruined them. My sister never got to grow up with me. Your daughter died because of you. What a monster you are.”

Each breath she took felt like the opening of a new wound. Vivian closed her eyes and let herself be eviscerated. Torn clean. “I know I am. I’ve been paying for it all my life.”