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Then smiling, she continued to draw.

“But I’m going to New York. I’ll have my own apartment. Are you from New York?”

“Charlie unlocked the manor and lived there with Lilian.”

Gretta’s mouth twisted, and the point of the crayon broke as she dug it into the paper.

“Gold digger, digging for Poole gold. Deserved what she got. And Charlie, too. Didn’t listen.” She began to color furiously, dragging Scarlet over the paper like blood.

“Go against Mother, pay the price. Lock it up, lock it all up and throw away the key.”

She set the Scarlet aside, picked up Midnight Blue. Scribbling, scribbling, she formed odd figures beneath a bloody sky.

Understanding she might never be able to ask again, might never have the answer, Sonya pressed.

“How did she choose? How did your mother choose which baby to keep, Gretta? How did she decide which of Charlie’s sons to keep?”

Gretta laid a finger over her lips. “Family secret. Just between mother and daughter. Not Lawrence. Useless. He likes boys instead of girls. More secrets. Nobody can know. He’s dead anyway. Lawrence is dead. It’s just Mother and me. Just us two now.”

“I’m family, Gretta. I’m a Poole.” Sonya glanced down at the crude drawing of two babies, fists raised as if for a fight as the sky above them bled red. Sonya tapped both. “How did you choose?”

“‘Pick one, pick one. Doesn’t matter which.’ Only one to preserve the line. They looked the same. One stays, one goes. And never, never tell.”

“You picked.”

“I didn’t want either. I’m going to New York.” Again she put her finger across her lips. “Another secret. Lots of secrets. Mother said I had to pick one. And now I’m Mother, too. Mother said I had a fiancé, oh, very handsome! His name was…”

Frowning, she stared up at the ceiling.

“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. He’s tall and brave and had to go to war and fight. He has blond hair and blue eyes, and we love each other so much. He died, though, very sad, but I had a baby anyway.

“I didn’t want a stupid baby! Poole blood, Poole line, Poole business. Poole secrets. Never, never say Charlie’s baby. Gretta’s baby. Do my duty. Fucking duty.”

She grabbed Black, drew angry slashes over one of the babies she’d drawn.

“Charlie’s dead, and that’s that. He cried and cried and cried, but he’s my baby now.”

“And his brother?”

“What brother?”

Angling her head left, right, left again, she chose Mountain Meadow to create flower stems.

“Collin’s brother. His twin brother.”

“Who knows? Who cares? I only had one baby. Mother named him…”

“Collin.”

“Collin Poole hanged himself. Everybody knows that.”

“The baby you raised was Collin, too.”

“I wasn’t a good mother, because he didn’t listen. Like his father. ‘You chose poorly, Gretta.’ They looked the same, didn’t they?”

Gretta clenched her teeth: anger, exasperation.

“How could I know I’d pick the one who wouldn’t listen and behave? I followed all her rules, I did my best.”