Sophie’s body froze. Her mouth fell ajar and her eyes were wide as she turned to face her mother. Tank and Ginger dragged her toward this new person for enthusiastic greetings, and that gave Sophie a moment to recover her composure.

Pim Wat was hidden under bulky layers: a conical straw sun hat, a long khaki parka, loose, wide-legged pants. Her shoes were orthopedic, and though her face was still beautiful and unlined, a sense of age was conveyed by hunched posture and the way her gloved hands gripped the knob of a bamboo cane.

“Mother. What are you doing here?”

“You are the only one with a right to call me that.” Pim Wat gave a brisk nod. Her voice was commanding. “Deal with those unmannerly animals, Malee, and come sit with me.”

She must be dreaming this. She’d wake up in the morning and shake her head over the whole ridiculous scenario she’d imagined—but no, it was too complete, right down to the details like the fact that only her mother called Sophie by her Thai middle name.

Sophie tied the dog’s leashes around a nearby metal pole. She took out the collapsible watering bowl from her jacket and opened it, pouring water from her canteen into the bowl. She left the dogs lapping thirstily and went to sit beside her mother, near the edge of the bench.

Pim Wat had set aside her cane. She kept her gaze on the newspaper she held. “We cannot appear to be conversing.”

“Why not?” The shock of disbelief was giving way to anger as Sophie leaned over the bench, beside her mother, stretching her calves. “What the hell is going on? Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?” Sophie’s Thai was rusty, and emotion made her trip over the words, her tongue tangling on the smooth vowels she hadn’t had occasion to speak in so long.

“You must not let your feelings rule you.”

“You are one to talk, Mother. Your feelings ruled you all of my life.”

“That is what I let you believe.”

A deep shiver passed over Sophie. She pressed her hand over her chest, feeling her heart lurch. “I do not know what you mean.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

Sophie pressed harder against her heart, because it was galloping now. She couldn’t look at the petite figure beside her on the bench. What was her mother trying to tell her? She focused on the only thing that made any sense. “Why now, Mother?”

“Because this is the first time I could find you and get you alone. Everything that I planned with Assan Ang went so badly wrong.”

“You planned my suffering?” Sophie wrapped her hands around her waist as she turned on the bench. “You gave me to him. You, Mother.”

“I know. I am sorry for how it turned out. But there was nothing to be done. I couldn’t get to you, once he had you. Then you fled and joined the FBI, and during that time I was . . . unavailable.”

Sophie focused on breathing, willing her logical mind to take over and sort through the confusion of jumbled emotions. “Perhaps it would be best if you just told me what you came to tell me.”

“That’s my Sophie. You were always such a good girl.”

Sophie tightened her arms around herself. Yes. Good girl. That’s what she had always tried to be for her mother, so she didn’t cause more distress, so she didn’t send her mother into a downward spiral.

So her mother didn’t kill herself because of something Sophie had done.

The dark, unspoken threat of suicide had hung there, a guillotine over Frank and Sophie’s heads. She’d been relieved to be sent to boarding school.

Sophie waited. Pim Wat would tell her what she wanted in her own good time. Her mother was not someone who could be rushed.

“I married your father for political reasons. It wasn’t my choice.”

Sophie wasn’t surprised. In the way of children, she had always known her mother didn’t love her father. But her father had tried hard to make both the cross-cultural differences and her mother’s illness work. “But Dad loved you. He really wanted us to be together.”

“Yes. Frank was very idealistic.” The word rolled off Pim Wat’s tongue like it tasted bad. “I had other priorities, the good of our family chief among them.”

Pim Wat referred to Sophie’s wealthy, royalty-related Thai relatives. Other than her aunt, Pim Wat’s younger sister, Sophie wasn’t close to any of the host of powerful uncles and scheming cousins she had left behind in Thailand.

She went on. “I was supposed to stay married to your father. Travel with him. Gather information for our government.”

Her mother had been a spy?

Sophie was reeling, but she focused on what she most needed answers for. “But I don’t remember that happening. You were always home. Separate from Dad and his job functions, except for those big social events.”

“I was not up to the task physically or emotionally. Alas.”

“So, your depression was real.”

“It was, particularly after you were born. I was not suited to be a mother.” The cold precision of Pim Wat’s words made Sophie’s heart lurch, again. “So we had to adopt a new plan. My brothers sanctioned our divorce. We allowed your father to think you were his, that he controlled what happened to you, by sending you to that boarding school in Geneva to be westernized. But I found a use for you, eventually. We needed an alliance with Hong Kong. Assan Ang was the key to increased commerce between Hong Kong and Thailand.” Pim Wat set aside the newspaper. She sighed, fiddling with her cane. Sophie sneaked a glance. Her mother’s face was smooth, her skin a glowing honey color. Her hands, holding the cane, were gloved in silk. Those hands had never worked a day of manual labor in their life. “I thought Assan would be good for you. An older man, suave and experienced. He would protect you, and show you the world. Take care of you. I did not know what he was.” For the first time, real regret colored her mother’s voice.

“Maybe I didn’t need or want to be taken care of, Mother. Maybe I wanted to grow into who I was and be loved for who I was.” Sophie’s voice sounded husky, filled with sorrow. She cleared her throat. “I have fought hard for that.”

“You have been in America too long. All of these ideas about self this and self that . . . So much pop psychology. What matters is family. Security. Belonging.”

“And you have provided none of those things for me, Mother.”

Sophie turned completely away from Pim Wat, and now faced the dogs. A long moment passed. The newspaper rustled behind Sophie as she stared blindly at the animals.

Tank and Ginger lay close, their legs entwined, licking each other’s faces.

She flashed to the men in her life, each of them so different, each of them nurturing some part of her. Alika, with his total acceptance and unconditional support, always challenging her to be her best. Jake with his intensity, energy and passion, spurring her into danger and risk, but caring for and protecting her too. And Connor. Connor, who was the most like her, as she was coming to know herself: dedicated, perfectionistic, a man whose disciplined body expressed his aesthetic, a brilliant loner who lived by his own rules and had chosen her alone to trust.

Would she ever be able to choose one of them, and settle into a quiet, contented life?

Pim Wat spoke again. “I thought to presume upon the duty of a daughter to her mother. But I see that the years have stolen our connection. So, I speak to you now on behalf of your government. You are needed by your country to help defend against criminals who are attacking us from within the cyber world.”

“I do not know what you are even talking about, Mother.” Sophie frowned. “Are you offering me a job?”

“I’m asking you to join the Yām Khûmkạn, an ancient organization that protects the royal family of Thailand. We have been in place for millennia, and we need your skills.”