Olivia realized that after she and Camilla had pored over Great-aunt Edna’s priceless artifacts last night, her mom must have moved them all up there so that they wouldn’t get damaged.
Without another cheerleader in the room to give her a boost, Olivia had to drag her chair over to reach the top shelf.
Leaving the ostrich fan where it was, she carefully carried the wooden box back to the kitchen and set it before her on the breakfast table. She still couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. The box was made of gleaming cherrywood, delicately carved in a pattern of flowers and birds.
Olivia opened the lid and gazed at Great-aunt Edna’s precious necklace, which lay glittering on the deep-blue satin lining of the compartment. For some reason, that made her think of Garrick Stephens in his luxury Interna 3, but she wiped the thought from her mind.
Olivia carefully lifted out the sparkling necklace and set it aside. Then she pressed ever so gently on the bottom of the compartment, just as her mother had shown her. There was a soft click, and the false bottom sprung open to reveal a stack of yellowed letters beneath.
A half hour later, Olivia was still sitting there, reading. The letters were so romantic. She folded one and unfolded another. It read,
My Dear Duke,
You know that it cannot be.We are of different worlds. Oh, how I wish we could be together, but I dare not allow myself to imagine a future in your arms. How wonderful it would be to live together in a home of love and peace, to have a precious child—a babe with your handsome eyes . . . But I must not write of such dreams. How my head battles against my heart!
Please do not look at me when I bring this afternoon’s tea. I do not think I could bear it!
With love and sadness, Edna As she finished the letter, Olivia felt a tear roll down her cheek.
“I made you some toast,” her mother interrupted. Olivia hadn’t even noticed her come into the kitchen.
Olivia quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured.
Her mom sat down opposite her and slid the plate of toast across to Olivia. She studied Olivia’s face. “So ...how are the movie plans coming along?” she asked.
“Good,” Olivia replied quietly.
Her mother nodded. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked gently.
Olivia felt a lump in her throat. “Nothing,” she said, looking down at the plate. Her mom reached over and took her hand.
Olivia fought the urge to cry. “I guess”—she gulped—“the family connection with Great-aunt Edna has made me think, you know, about my own biological parents.”
Her mom sighed and nodded. “It’s healthy to want to know about your birth parents, sweetheart,” she replied softly. “I only wish I had more to tell you about them.”
“I know,” Olivia said.
“I’d be happy to get the adoption file out again for you to look at,” her mom offered.
Olivia took a tissue from the box on the corner of the table and blew her nose. “There’s not much to look at,” she quavered, looking up at the ceiling tearily. “It just says that someone dropped me off at the adoption agency anonymously.”
“With the note that had your name and date of birth on it,” her mom added. Then she smiled and squeezed Olivia’s hand. “You know I’ve always loved your name.”
“Don’t forget the ring,” Olivia said, wiggling her finger and forcing a smile.
“And the ring,” her mom agreed, standing up and coming around the table to give Olivia a big hug. Olivia buried her face in her mom’s shoulder.
“I love you so much, sweetie,” her mom whispered, and Olivia found herself feeling a tiny bit better. Then her mom glanced at the clock over the stove. “The Mom Express is departing for school in fifteen minutes sharp,” she teased. “And you still haven’t done your hair.”
Olivia grinned again in spite of her tears.
“Why don’t you go finish getting ready, while I put away Edna’s things?” Mrs. Abbott suggested.
“Thanks, Mom,” Olivia said and padded upstairs to do her hair.
Twenty minutes later, Olivia was staring out of the car window as her mom drove her to school. Her mind continued to buzz with questions about her real parents: Who were they? Why’d they give us up? Were they in love, like Edna and the duke?
Two blocks from school, Olivia noticed a blackclad person walking on the sidewalk up ahead. Even from the back, she could tell it was Ivy.
“I’ll get out here,” Olivia blurted. She really wanted to talk to her sister, but there was no way she could risk her mom seeing Ivy up close in case she noticed the resemblance.
“Why?” her mom asked.
Olivia hesitated. “For the fresh air . . .” she tried.
Much to her relief, her mom pulled over without asking any more questions. Olivia hugged her good-bye and got out of the car. She waited for her mom to drive away and then shouted, “Ivy! Wait up!”
Ivy turned, her face set in a scowl, and kicked some dirt off her boot as she waited for Olivia to catch up.
“You don’t look too happy,” Olivia observed.
“I’m not,” Ivy replied flatly.
“What’s wrong?”
“I still don’t have a quote for Serena Star,” Ivy explained. “But don’t worry about me. What’s the matter with you?” Olivia looked at her quizzically, and Ivy said, “Just because you always look sunny doesn’t mean I can’t tell when you’re feeling cloudy.”
Olivia smiled, and she and her sister started walking together slowly.