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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.