The first time Emilia Grant heard her daughters call a stranger “Daddy,” she believed the word had come from somewhere else.
From the orchestra warming up in the ballroom.
From one of the waiters speaking into a headset.
From the crowd gathering beneath the crystal chandeliers of Grant House.
It could not have come from her children.
Their father had been dead for seven years.
Yet when Emilia turned toward the entrance, she saw both girls standing completely still at the top of the marble staircase.
Nora and Elsie were seven-year-old twins, identical in appearance but different in every other way. Nora usually questioned everything. Elsie trusted her feelings before she trusted facts.
At that moment, neither girl looked uncertain.
They were staring at the tall man beside the front doors.
He wore the dark gray uniform of a temporary chauffeur. Rain glistened on his shoulders, and one hand remained wrapped around the handle of a black umbrella. A thin scar crossed his left temple and disappeared beneath his hair.
The man seemed uncomfortable inside the magnificent house, as though he had entered a place from a dream he could no longer remember.
Elsie dropped the silver ribbon she had been holding.
“Daddy?”
The musicians stopped playing one by one.
The chauffeur looked up.
His face lost all color.
Nora seized her sister’s hand and pulled her down the staircase. Their polished shoes struck the marble steps so quickly that Emilia was certain one of them would fall.
“Girls, stop!” she called.
They did not listen.
They ran across the entrance hall, past the guests, past the flower arrangements, and directly into the stranger’s arms.
The umbrella hit the floor.
The man staggered backward as the twins embraced him.
For several seconds he did nothing. His hands remained suspended above their shoulders, his fingers trembling.
Then Elsie began to cry.
“We knew you would come back.”
The chauffeur closed his eyes.
When he finally placed his arms around the girls, the sound that escaped him was not quite a sob and not quite a word.
Emilia felt the room tilt beneath her.
Her husband, Victor Hale, appeared beside her. He was elegant as always, dressed in a midnight-blue dinner jacket, his silver cuff links catching the light.
“What is happening?” he demanded.
Emilia could not answer.
Victor crossed the hall and pulled Nora away from the chauffeur.
“That is enough.”
Nora fought against him.
“Let go! He’s our daddy!”
“He is an employee,” Victor said. “You have never met him before.”
“Yes, we have,” Elsie insisted. “He used to carry us to the window when it rained.”
The stranger stared at her.
Victor’s expression tightened.
“You were infants when your father died. You cannot remember anything.”
Nora pointed at the man’s left hand.
“He has the star.”
Everyone looked down.
A pale birthmark, shaped almost like a five-pointed star, rested near the base of the chauffeur’s thumb.
Emilia stopped breathing.
Gabriel had possessed the same mark.
She remembered tracing it with her finger on their wedding night. She remembered kissing it in the hospital after the twins were born. She remembered holding that hand beneath the table whenever Gabriel became impatient during business dinners.
The stranger quickly closed his fingers.
Victor stepped in front of Emilia.
“This is an ugly coincidence.”
The chauffeur bent to retrieve the umbrella.
“I should leave.”
His voice struck Emilia more forcefully than the birthmark had.
Time had made it rougher. Pain had buried its warmth. But beneath the years and damage, something remained.
A rhythm.
A familiar pause between words.
Emilia moved closer.
“What is your name?”
The stranger hesitated.
“Daniel Cross.”
“How long have you worked for the agency?”
“Three weeks.”
“Where did you work before that?”
“I don’t remember.”
A murmur passed through the guests.
Victor gave a sharp laugh.
“How convenient.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“I was told to drive Mrs. Grant to the foundation dinner. There must have been a mistake in the schedule.”
“There was no mistake,” Emilia said. “I requested a driver.”
“But not this one,” Victor replied.
Elsie slipped from his grasp and returned to Daniel.
“Ask him about the fox.”
Victor’s eyes flashed toward her.
“What fox?”
“Our bedtime fox,” Nora said. “The one who was afraid of the moon.”
Daniel’s lips parted.
The room became so quiet that Emilia could hear rain tapping against the tall windows.
Elsie looked up at him.
“Why was the fox afraid?”
Daniel stared at the child for a long moment.
Then he answered in a whisper.
“Because he thought the moon was following him.”
Nora’s eyes filled with tears.
“And what did the owl tell him?”
Daniel’s face twisted as if the memory physically hurt.