Discovering (Lily Dale #4)(52)

After a few moments, a figure emerges from the front door of the building. It’s the same woman Laura just glimpsed in the hallway. She’s dressed in some kind of long white dress and wears her jet black hair in a bun.

After descending from the stoop to the sidewalk she pauses and looks directly up at Laura’s window.

Her face is exotically beautiful and completely unfamiliar. But there’s something so warm and reassuring in the smile she beams at Laura that Laura can’t help but return it.

She quickly opens the window and sticks her head out, calling, “Excuse me!”

But somehow, the woman is gone.

She couldn’t have stepped into a cab—there aren’t any in sight. Laura cranes her neck to look up and down the street, but she’s nowhere to be seen. How on earth could she have walked away so quickly?

“Hi, Laura!”Liz Jessee, holding her broom, steps into view on the stoop.

“Liz! Did you see where she went?”

“Who?”

“The delivery woman.”

“What delivery woman?”

“From the florist. She just left me flowers.”And a plane ticket.

Which isn’t the only odd thing that’s happened lately.

“When did she leave them?”

“Just now.”

“Now?”Liz echoes. “But . . . it’s so early.”

“I know . Did you see which way she went when she came out of the building?”she asks again, trying not to sound impatient.

“I didn’t see anyone come out of the building,”Liz tells her. “I’ve been here for the last ten minutes, sweeping the front vestibule.”

“But . . .”

“Laura, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m just . . . feeling under the weather,”she says slowly. “I think I’ll go lie down.”

“Oh . . . the exterminator is coming at nine o’clock sharp. I hope that’s not a problem.”

“Exterminator?”

“For the roaches. Last night. Remember?”

Oh. Right. The roaches.

Which don’t exist.

Just like the man at the foot of her bed, who didn’t exist.

And now the floral delivery woman, who also doesn’t exist.

Laura tells Liz that’ll be fine, closes the window, and turns around, wondering what she’ll find.

Who knows? Maybe she imagined the flowers and the ticket home, too.

Of course she did.

Everyone knows florists don’t deliver airline vouchers.

Except . . . this one does.

Because the voucher— and the vase filled with beautiful white lilies— calla lilies—is definitely real.





TWENTY-THREE

Lily Dale

Friday, October 12

7:25 a.m.

“Lisa! Thank goodness you didn’t leave for school yet!”

“Calla?”On the other end of the telephone line, her friend sounds bewildered. “What are you doing calling so early? Is everything okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, no. What happened?”

Where to begin?

She sinks into a chair at her grandmother’s kitchen table.

Maybe it was a mistake to call Lisa right now. She did it impulsively, as she was getting ready to head out the door to school. Odelia is still asleep upstairs—Calla checked several times as she was taking a shower and getting dressed and using makeup in an attempt to mask the evidence of her rough, sleepless night.

Knowing Evangeline left for school early today, she found herself feeling desperate to talk to someone.

I guess I just have to say it out loud, Calla decides. To make sure it’s really true.

Which really makes no sense.

She knows it’s true.

She was up all night, reading and rereading her mother’s computer files.

“The thing is, Lis’ . . . last night, I found out that I have a sister.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. I know . Crazy, right?”She gives a shaky, humorless laugh.

“What are you talking about? How can you have a sister?”

“It’s a half sister, really. My mother had a baby with her old boyfriend.”

“You have a baby sister and she didn’t tell you? But how—”

“No! No, this was years ago. Before she even met my dad. It’s not a baby sister, it’s a grown-up sister. Half sister.”

“I can’t believe this,”Lisa drawls.

“I can’t, either.”Calla toys with the strap of her duffel bag, packed for the weekend and draped over the back of the chair, ready for her grandmother to deliver to Dad later . . . along with the bombshell discovery.

“Did you meet her?”

“No! I didn’t even know she existed until a few hours ago.”Calla draws a deep breath. “She was actually adopted by Sharon Logan.”

“Who’s that?”

“The woman who—”

“I just remembered! That horrid woman?”

“Yes.”

“This is unbelievable, Calla. I can’t . . . I just don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to call you.”