Chapter 3 - THE GIRL NAMED AMELIA
Julian placed a photograph on the conference table.
Maya did not touch it.
A young woman stood beside a greenhouse filled with orchids.
She had dark wavy hair.
Maya’s nose.
Maya’s eyes.
Around her neck hung the same ring.
“Her name was Caroline Waverly,” Julian said.
Maya stared.
The Waverly name was familiar to almost anyone in New York.
Hotels.
Commercial real estate.
Private investment funds.
The Waverly Foundation.
Old money multiplied by newer money.
Business magazines estimated the extended family fortune in the billions.
Maya almost laughed.
“This is absurd.”
Julian nodded.
“That is a reasonable reaction.”
“Why do you have this?”
“My firm represents the Waverly family trust.”
“You’re telling me my mother was a billionaire?”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
“Caroline was the daughter of Theodore Waverly. The family assets were largely held through trusts and companies. She had substantial beneficial interests. That is different from personally having billions of dollars.”
Maya appreciated the precision.
It made the impossible sound slightly less like a scam.
Julian slid another photograph across.
A little girl.
Four or five.
Dark hair.
Standing beside Caroline.
On the back someone had written:
Caroline and Amelia — June 1998.
Maya’s stomach turned.
“My middle name is Amelia.”
Julian waited.
“Ruth gave it to me.”
“Did Ruth Calder ever tell you where she worked before you lived with her?”
“Domestic work. Hotels sometimes.”
Julian opened a folder.
“Ruth worked for the Waverly family for eleven years.”
Maya pushed back from the table.
“No.”
“She was assigned primarily to Caroline.”
“No.”
“Maya—”
“My mother was dead when Ruth took me.”
“Caroline Waverly disappeared with her four-year-old daughter, Amelia, in September 1998.”
Maya looked at the child in the photograph.
“What happened?”
“The public account was that Caroline removed Amelia during a family custody dispute. Her car was later found abandoned near Montauk. Neither was located.”
“And you think I’m the child.”
“I think the ring makes the possibility serious.”
“Because of an orchid?”
“Because only four versions of that ring were commissioned.”
Julian showed her old jeweler documentation.
Each ring contained a tiny serial mark inside the band.
Maya had never noticed hers.
Under magnification, it was there.
Number three.
Assigned to Caroline Waverly.
Maya felt suddenly cold.
“Where’s Caroline?”
Julian’s expression changed.
“We don’t know yet whether your history connects to hers the way it appears to.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
He folded his hands.
“Caroline was never officially found.”
Maya stared at him.
Then remembered Ruth’s funeral.
The small cardboard box of documents.
A birth certificate naming Maya Ellison.
Mother:
Caroline Ellison.
No father listed.
Maya had assumed Ruth knew her mother through church.
“What would proving this require?”
“Records. Probably DNA with consenting relatives. A review of your childhood documentation. Potentially court proceedings.”
“So you can’t tell me I’m anyone.”
“Correct.”
Maya finally trusted him a little.
Then Julian said:
“There is another reason we need to proceed carefully.”
May you like
“What?”
“If you are Amelia Waverly, someone has been receiving distributions that were reserved partly for you.”
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