A stranger knew exactly what my mother had been told. My mother was gone, and there I was, standing in my hallway at 11 p.m., finally about to hear the truth about what had really happened to all of us. I walked into the kitchen and sat down in the dark. I didn’t bother with the light. It just felt more honest that way.
“Tell me your name first,” I said.
“Margaret. Margaret Osei.” Her voice was gentle but tired, like she’d been carrying this for a long time. “Your mother and I were close when you were little. We lost touch after she moved, but we still spoke every now and then, right up until near the end.” She paused. “She talked about you a lot.”
I stayed quiet, my hand resting on the kitchen table.
“The night before the wedding,” she went on, “Victor Hale went to see your mother. No
