Darcy hadn’t meant it to come out as a question but with so many dead ends resulting in nothing up to this point she was sure this would be another one.Sarah put her hands down on the edge of the booth’s counter. Henrietta swallowed but didn’t look away. “It’s you. It’s you,” Sarah kept repeating.“Uh, Darcy, what’s going on?” Grace asked her.Darcy shook her head. “Henrietta. You know what she’s asking, right?”“I...I…” the woman stuttered, swallowed again. “I can’t…”“Darcy, it’s her,” Sarah insisted. “Look at her eyes.”Darcy did. At first she didn’t see it, but then she called up an image of the photo Sarah had shown her of her mother. The eyes. The eyes were the same.When she’d brought Sarah to see Elizabeth in the deli, so sure that she’d found Angelica, Sarah had said she would always know her mother by the eyes. That her mother could have had plastic surgery, even, and she would still know her by the eyes. Sarah had been right.
