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September? Christmas? On a tiny burst of hope, she asked, “Does that mean you don’t think Dad will be in prison by then?”

“It takes a long time to bring someone to trial these days.” He hesitated. “I’m not making you any promises. There’s the possibility your father stumbled on this drawing. Surely even he would have been enraged. In any marriage, this would be a fire starter.”

“He’d have been upset, sure. Enraged…isn’t him.” Oh, Dad, I hope you never saw this. Never have to see it.

Tony bent his head, as if acknowledging her point without necessarily agreeing. But he continued, “I will say I’m ready to pursue the possibility of an unknown man who had a relationship with your mother. Someone with money and some training as an artist.”

Snide was tempting. It’s about time. Or, Really? You actually opened your mind enough to see that I’m right? But she refrained, of course. Partly because nice was so ingrained, she had to struggle to express anger or any other negative emotion, and partly because she didn’t want to give him reason to shut her out.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding meek.

He shot her an odd look, opened his mouth…and changed his mind. “Let’s get on with this.”

More junk. Christmas decorations showing their age—she pushed that box aside to go through more carefully, to be sure she didn’t throw away a beloved nativity scene or some such thing. Clothes that had to have been her father’s, maybe when he’d been a student. Looking at them dubiously, Beth saw how high-waisted the pants were by today’s standards. If they were in better shape, she’d call them vintage. As they were? Toss.

Women’s clothing, very 1980s at a guess. Stirrup pants, waistlines again high on all the pants she lifted out. Dresses in bold prints that, even on a woman as petite as her mother, must have been really short. Blouses had big shoulder pads. There was a lot of tan and brown and orange. Except for the pink leg warmers and a pink and purple velour sweat suit. Oh, and glittery jellies. Beth had had a pair when she was a kid, although they’d already been a larger size than these. Mom wore a five, and frequently complained that her foot was sliding around in them. She’d been known to buy kids’ shoes to get a better fit.

As far as this box went, Mom had only saved things in good condition, which meant they could go to at least a thrift store if not consignment. All too well, Beth could see her mother in a pink leotard, tights and leg warmers, with her blonde hair teased into some kind of cute side ponytail. She almost shuddered. She should count her blessings that fashion had moved on by the time she cared what she looked like. This stuff would have been fine for someone who was slim and cute. Not so much for tall and too well-rounded.

“You get this expression sometimes,” Tony growled. “You hunch your shoulders. I don’t like it.”

“What?” she said in surprise, although she squared her shoulders because—he was right. “I was thinking how cute Mom would have been in some of these outfits.” She had a belated thought. “Or Emily would.” She really should let her go through this box. It wasn’t as if seeing Emily in any of these clothes would bother her or Matt.

“Sure you were,” he said, sounding almost mad. “What you were really thinking was that they wouldn’t have been cute on you.”

“How did you—” She stopped, but not in time. Heat in her cheeks told her that.

“You must have had boyfriends.”

“Of course I have!” Some. A few. Just…never one who hadn’t either disappointed her or drifted away, less than passionately committed.

He glowered at her. “Then you can’t tell me no man has told you how sexy you are!”

The excessive heat drained from her face, leaving it…cold. “I…don’t think anyone has ever put it that way.”

“How did they put it?” His jaw muscles appeared to be knotted as tight as fists.

Of course, she couldn’t bring to mind a single compliment any man had ever paid her. There had been some, just… It took her a minute to come up with an answer. I didn’t believe them. Why would she, when she’d always felt like a moose? Plain, overweight. Feet too big. Hazel eyes instead of sparkling blue. Hair that was mostly brown. Freckles across a nose that, okay, wasn’t too big but also wasn’t slender, tipped up, classic or cute.

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