I admitted that I had nearly hired a private investigator without checking the person’s credentials.
Naomi helped us create a budget and prioritize requests likely to produce useful records.
We canceled two subscriptions that promised access to information already available through public archives.
The change made our search slower in appearance but more focused in practice.
It also reduced the strain on our families.
I realized that fear had cost us money as well as sleep.
Being right about wrongdoing did not protect us from making poor decisions in response.
We needed discipline precisely because the stakes were personal.
Chapter 24AK: A Better Question
During a follow-up meeting, Ortiz asked what outcome would help us feel that the investigation had served its purpose.
I started to say I wanted Adrian punished.
Then I stopped and considered what we actually knew.
I said I wanted the unlawful work at my property explained and any responsible parties held accountable under the law.
I wanted the old charity records examined fairly.
Most of all, I wanted to know whether Ruth had lived after she left and what became of her.
Ortiz wrote the answer down.
She said the first two goals involved official processes with defined standards.
The third might remain a family search even if the others ended.
Her words helped me separate what an investigator could do from what grief demanded.
I left the office disappointed that there was no simple path to every answer.
I also felt less confused about what came next.
Chapter 24AL: The Visitor at the Exhibition
A woman approached Hazel after the spring arts exhibition and asked about her doorway sculpture.
She introduced herself as a former Hope House student who had heard about our family through the community center.
She said Ruth once helped her apply for a scholarship that allowed her to attend nursing school.
The woman carried a small photograph of a classroom with Ruth standing near the blackboard.
She offered us a copy, explaining that the image belonged to her family.
Hazel thanked her and asked whether Ruth had been a strict teacher.
The woman laughed.
“She was strict about getting our names right,” she answered.
“She wasn’t strict about making mistakes while learning.”
The answer echoed something Marsha had told us months earlier.
I felt a surprising sense of continuity between people who had known Ruth at different times.
They remembered similar habits even when their lives were otherwise unconnected.
That consistency gave me confidence in the ordinary portrait of my mother emerging from the stories.
