Chapter 1 - The Boy in the Foyer
Nora lit the two silver candles on the dining table.
The room smelled of roasted garlic and rosemary.
Tonight was her thirtieth wedding anniversary.
She smoothed the front of her dark blue silk dress.
She adjusted a crystal wine glass by a fraction of an inch.
Everything had to be perfect.
Her husband, Greg, expected nothing less than perfection.
The heavy front door unlocked with a loud click.
Nora smiled and walked into the grand foyer.
Greg was standing on the expensive Persian rug.
He was not holding a bouquet of anniversary roses.
He was tightly gripping the shoulder of a small boy.
The child looked about ten years old.
He wore faded jeans and dirty canvas sneakers.
He stared nervously at the polished hardwood floor.
Nora stopped at the edge of the hallway.
Her smile slowly faded.
“Greg?”
Her husband removed his expensive cashmere coat.
He draped it carefully over a chair.
He did not look at her.
“Nora, this is Toby.”
Nora looked closely at the boy.
The child had dark, thick hair.
He had a distinct, small cleft in his chin.
He looked exactly like Greg.
A cold, heavy weight dropped into Nora’s stomach.
She took a slow step backward.
“Who is this child?”
Greg finally met her eyes.
His expression was completely blank.
“He is my son.”
The foyer became completely silent.
The grandfather clock ticked against the wall.
Nora felt her chest tighten.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Your son?”
Greg nodded slowly.
“I am sorry you have to find out this way.”
Nora stared at him in horror.
Thirty years of marriage flashed through her mind.
They had built a life together.
They had raised a daughter together.
They had built a massive real estate empire together.
“How is this possible?”
Greg placed his hands in his pockets.
“I made a mistake eleven years ago.”
Nora felt tears stinging her eyes.
“A mistake.”
“It was a brief relationship.”
Nora looked at the terrified boy.
The child was trembling.
“You hid a child from me for ten years?”
Greg sighed with obvious annoyance.
“I provided for him financially.”
Nora could not believe what she was hearing.
Her husband was speaking like a lawyer in a boardroom.
“Where is his mother?”
Greg looked away for a second.
“She passed away yesterday.”
Nora brought a hand to her mouth.
“Oh my god.”
“The hospital contacted me this morning.”
Greg pointed toward the wooden stairs.
“He is going to live in the guest room.”
Nora felt a sudden surge of intense anger.
“You cannot just bring him here without asking me.”
Greg stepped closer to her.
His eyes were cold and unyielding.
“This is my house.”
The words struck her like a physical blow.
He was reminding her of his power.
He controlled the bank accounts.
He controlled the properties.
Nora wiped a tear from her cheek.
She stood up completely straight.
“Then I will not stay in it.”
Greg crossed his arms.
“You are being overly dramatic.”
Nora turned her back to him.
She walked quickly up the curved staircase.
She went into their master bedroom.
She pulled a leather suitcase from the closet.
Her hands were shaking uncontrollably.
She threw dresses and sweaters into the bag.
She left her expensive jewelry in its velvet box.
She left the diamond anniversary necklace on the dresser.
She zipped the suitcase shut.
Thirty years of loyalty had meant nothing.
She grabbed the handle and walked back into the hallway.
She carried the bag down the stairs.
Greg was no longer in the foyer.
He had gone into his private study.
The heavy oak door was firmly shut.
But Toby was still in the hallway.
The boy was sitting on the bottom step.
He was clutching a faded blue backpack against his chest.
He looked up at Nora with wide, frightened eyes.
Nora stopped.
Her anger was meant for Greg, not this innocent child.
She set her suitcase down.
She crouched in front of the boy.
“I am sorry about your mother, Toby.”
The boy looked down at his sneakers.
“She wasn't my real mother.”
Nora frowned in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
Toby hugged his backpack tighter.
“Diane was my foster mom.”
Nora felt a strange chill run through her.
“Greg told me she was your mother.”
Toby shook his head.
“He paid her to keep me.”
Nora stared at the child.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Why would Greg lie about an affair?
Why would he pay a foster mother?
Toby’s hands trembled against the bag.
The zipper on the backpack was broken.
The bag suddenly slipped from his small fingers.
It fell onto the hardwood floor.
A rusted metal biscuit tin spilled out.
The lid popped off.
Several items scattered across the rug.
There was a plastic toy car.
There was a stack of coloring book pages.
And there was a folded baby blanket.
Nora stopped breathing.
She stared at the fabric.
It was a pale yellow knitted blanket.
It had a border of hand-stitched white daisies.
Nora reached out with a trembling hand.
She picked up the soft yellow fabric.
Her fingers traced the imperfect stitching on the corner.
She had made that exact mistake with the needle.
She had knitted this blanket ten years ago.
She had made it for her daughter Elise.
Elise had been eighteen and pregnant.
Greg had told Nora the baby died during delivery.
Nora looked up at the boy’s dark hair and cleft chin.
He did not look like Greg.
He looked like Elise’s high school boyfriend.
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Toby was not her husband’s illegitimate son.
Toby was her grandson.
