Top Highlights

• look a lot like her—same straight nose, heart-shaped face, and dark chocolate hair—but I must’ve gotten my green eyes from my dad.
• She grabs my hand and presses a worn poker chip into my palm, then folds my fingers around it. “For good luck.”
• My suspicion turns out to be correct. A few miles later, Mom veers right onto a wide, gated driveway. After a short wait, the gate slides open, and I follow her through. Tall trees and a perfectly manicured lawn spread on either side of us, and the long driveway curves slightly before looping in a tight circle in front of a sweeping, two story hous...
• “Penelope Thomas. And this is my daughter, Harlow.”
• grand, high-ceilinged foyer. Arched doorways on all sides lead to other parts of the house, and a curved staircase on the right side of the room connects to the upper level. A balcony overlooks the entryway from the second floor, and it’s while I’m staring up at it that a body collides with mine.