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“It’s uncanny,” Nora said. “The resemblance.”
Sloan had seen dozens of pictures of her biological mother over the last many days, and had also noted her haunting likeness to Annabelle Margolis from thirty years ago.
“And you have his eyes. You have Preston’s eyes.”
Nora teared up again and she wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“Oh, will you look at me?” Nora said. “I promised myself I’d hold it together, and here I am falling to pieces the moment I lay eyes on you.”
Sloan wiped her own tears. “It’s alright. I understand how shocking this must be.”
Nora Margolis, Sloan guessed, was in her late fifties—about the same age Annabelle Margolis was today. Assuming, Sloan considered, her birth mother was still alive.
“Not just to us,” Nora said. “For you as well.”
Sloan smiled. “It’s been an interesting couple of weeks. And I have to admit that I’m really nervous right now.”
“Don’t be. Not tonight, anyway. It’s just you and me this evening. You’ll meet everyone else tomorrow. Come in. Did you find the place alright?”
“Yes. You’ve got a beautiful home.”
“Oh.” Nora pulsed her eyebrows. “It’s a Margolis Victorian.”
Sloan followed Nora into the foyer.
“A Margolis Victorian?”
Nora plastered a fake smile onto her face. “We’re not allowed anything else. Since the house was purchased through my husband’s trust, it had to match all the other Margolis homes. All Victorians, all constructed by the same builder, and all designed by Tilly and Reid Margolis. My in-laws. God forbid we build our own home.” Nora rolled her eyes. “Oh, listen to me. I’m already dishing family gossip and you’ve just walked through the door. Anyway, thank you. Ellis and I decorated it ourselves and we’ve always loved it. Can I get you something to drink? Wine?”
“Sure. Thank you.”
Sloan followed Nora into the kitchen, where Nora poured two glasses of white wine.
“Judging by your body,” Nora said, handing Sloan a glass, “I’m guessing you’re a health junkie?”
“Oh.” Sloan smiled. “CrossFit.”
Nora raised her eyebrows in the way of a question.
“It’s a type of exercise—weight lifting and cardio. High intensity stuff. It’s a little sadistic, but it’s also addictive. I discovered it in medical school and am quasi obsessed. It helps clear my head when my mind gets cluttered, which is often.”
“Are you married?”
Sloan smiled. “No.”
“Dating?”
“Negative on all fronts having to do with men.”
“Are you gay?”
“No. Just not ready to hitch myself to anyone yet.”
“Well, I guess that’s the way these days. I married Ellis when I was young, but kids nowadays aren’t getting married until later. Sometimes not at all.”
“I don’t really have a timetable. I just haven’t met the right guy I guess.”
“There’re plenty of fish in the sea, and you’re quite a catch so it’ll happen when it happens. Plus, you’re a doctor, right?”
