I Liked My Life(59)

“Where was Grandma born?”

“Virginia.”

“And she lived there her whole life?”

“Far as I know.” Which turns out isn’t much …

“What year did your parents marry?”

My jaw slackens. “Let’s see, Dad was twenty-eight, so that’d mean they were … married in … 1962.”

“That was kind of slow for a CFO,” she jokes.

“I’m not the one getting tutored in math.”

She crosses her arms. “You say it like I’m getting tutored ’cause I failed a class. I’m getting tutored to get a year ahead in one summer.”

“Touché,” I concede. “Now what, Detective?”

“Well, there’s a surprising number of Goldfarbs out there and we can’t assume they’re still in Virginia, but I found this site where you pay a fee to look up the U.S. Public Records Index. That’s all the information we would need. Should I do it?”

“How much does it cost?”

“Two hundred dollars.”

I whistle. “That’s steep.” Truthfully, I enjoy seeing her interested in something. As my running stamina improves, I have less and less time at the house, so we’ve barely spoken all week. “Do you think we should do it?”

“I do. I mean, Grandma was always so sad. I’d love to meet people who knew her differently.” It’s fascinating Eve remembers my mother as sad; Maddy and I always referred to her as cold. Kids are in a unique position to be perceptive—life hasn’t muddied their take yet.

Eve keeps on her sales pitch. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll connect with Marie and Paul. I mean, they’re not really family, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

I try not to be offended. “Who’s begging?”

“You know what I mean. Aside from Aunt Meg, Lucy, and Uncle Dan, it’s just us. I always used to daydream about having a big family.”

Her words punch me. “You did? Mom and I thought you’d hate sharing attention. It was one of the things that softened the blow of—” I hesitate to finish the sentence, but if I want a real relationship with Eve, I have to be real. She’s seventeen. “You know, I don’t think we ever told you this, but we couldn’t have more kids.”

The memory comes with a giant what if …

We wanted more. When Eve turned two, we started trying. When she was three, we went to a specialist—shot after shot, temperature-taking after testing after tears. It broke my heart each month when Maddy announced our failure, which she perceived as her failure. By the time we were ready to consider adoption, Eve was almost six and we were settled into our lifestyle. Maddy regretted that decision later. Shortsighted, she called it. I wonder how it would’ve changed things if we had an eleven-year-old right now. Would Maddy still be gone? Was there not enough keeping her here?

“Good thing it didn’t work out,” Eve says, answering my unspoken question. “Could you imagine if we were stuck raising a kid right now?” Talk about the devil’s advocate. Does that make Eve a pessimist or a realist?

“Let’s check into this thing, Dad. If nothing else, we’ll learn more about Grandma.”

“Okay.” She takes my credit card and I head to the shower.

When I return to the kitchen for dinner, Eve has a match. Not right away, but by searching under different variations, she found an Anna Marie Watson born January 3, 1952, at Providence Hospital in Washington, D.C., to Sandra Watson and Phillip Goldfarb. Eve called information, but there was no one by that name in the greater D.C. area.

I think of Bobby. His brother is in the FBI. Maybe he could dig something up. I can tell Eve is pleased with my resourcefulness, so I call him right then, with her by my side. I’m racking up brownie points on this one.

“I’ve been meaning to call you, Brady,” Bobby says after a quick hello. I can tell by the drag of his words that he’s a few beers in.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, Bobby, me too. Listen, I’m calling for a favor.”

“Anything, man. You’re my best friend. I never tell you that, but it’s true. And I’m sorry about Madel—”

I cut him off with the reason for my call. He’s confused why I care since we aren’t biologically related, but agrees to look into it and get back to me. It doesn’t sound promising, but Eve is happy, so I’m happy.

It hits me that she’s probably been lonely. I’ve been neglecting her again. Maybe I can forgive myself for holding back in relationships with my mother and wife if I can salvage the one with my daughter. It’s certainly better than going zero for three.





CHAPTER TWELVE

Madeline

It’s bizarre to watch Brady, Rory, and Eve seated at my dining-room table, the tableau of a happy family. I have to remind myself I wanted this.

Eve shows off by setting the table with linens and candlelight, serving baked salmon with a lemon caper sauce, and using random curse words in her stories. She’s playing the part of the hostess, treating Rory as a peer now that she doesn’t relate to her high-school friends. Both Brady and Rory allow the performance—Brady because there’s a guest in the house and Rory because she understands why Eve is doing it.