Then one baby turned his face toward the truck. Everett's stomach tightened. The brow. The chin. The eyes. Something about those features looked disturbingly familiar.
Paige gave a small laugh. "Well," she said, lowering the window. "I guess life finally caught up with her."
Naomi turned toward the truck. Their eyes met. Everett expected anger. Instead, Naomi looked at him with something harder to understand. Pity.
Paige dug through her purse. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. She crumpled it and tossed it onto the gravel. "For formula," she called. "Or whatever you need it for." "Paige, enough."
Naomi didn't touch the money. She simply shifted the babies. She lifted her sack and started walking down the shoulder.
Everett reached for the door handle. Paige grabbed his arm. "Don't make a scene." "Those babies could belong to anyone."
Everett froze.
Almost a year earlier, he had believed something terrible about Naomi. He believed she'd stolen a hundred sixty-five thousand dollars. Money missing from his construction firm. Then photographs surfaced. They showed her leaving a motel with another man. Finally, his late mother's sapphire brooch vanished from the safe. It turned up wrapped inside a scarf in Naomi's dresser.
