The woman on that screen had my late husband’s dark eyes and his crooked smile. Her name was Claire, and she was Daniel’s younger sister. She had vanished the week after his funeral, and in seventeen years nobody in our family had heard a single word from her. I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

Nora’s voice shook. “She wrote online that she left twins at an airport, Mom. She says she wants to meet us, and she is flying in tonight.” Tessa swallowed hard and whispered, “She might already be outside.” Before I could breathe, headlights swept across the bedroom wall, and someone knocked three times at the front door. Through the glass stood a thin woman holding a faded blue baby blanket, the exact match of the one that had covered the girls in the carrier.