For the first time in my life, having almost nothing made one decision strangely easy.
There was nothing Harlan Voss could offer me that I wanted more than the truth.
So I unfolded the second page.
And kept reading.
PART 3
My mother’s second page began with a sentence that sounded exactly like her.
Rue, if you are making that face you make when you think someone has lied to you, relax your forehead before you give yourself a headache.
I laughed.
A small, broken sound.
Mara covered her mouth.
Even Harlan smiled.
“She knew me,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Mara said gently. “She did.”
I kept reading.
The explanation was less dramatic than I had expected.
And somehow, because of that, it hurt more.
Mom wrote that she and Eleanor Voss had met in 1997 after the Meridian increased ticket prices during a renovation.
Mom had been twenty-two.
Broke.
Opinionated.
Working two jobs.
