Vivienne Crane-Hartley has spent her entire life building a version of herself that the world will believe. Born Doris Mae Pruitt in a cinder-block house in Decatur, Illinois, she clawed her way out through careful calculation, strategic marriages, and a smile she practiced in a cracked mirror until it was perfect. Now she has everything she worked for—a Gold Coast apartment, a wealthy widower husband, and a social media presence that makes her look like the devoted stepmother she will never be.
The only thing standing between Vivienne and the life she actually wants is Florence—six years old, cerebrally palsied, stubborn, and disturbingly perceptive. Florence doesn't warm to her. Florence doesn't perform gratitude. Florence simply watches, quietly, with her dead mother's eyes, and waits.
Vivienne has a plan for Florence. She has a plan for everything. But on a sweltering Tuesday morning, a loose sandal strap and a moving blue car have a plan of their own.
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