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or years," he said.
"Is the day after tomorrow too soon for you to look again?" I asked. Tomorrow was Daddy's funeral.
He looked up sharply. "Are you returning to college immediately?"
"I expect to, yes," I said.
"Good. Perhaps we should go back inside," he suggested, rising.
I stood up, and he held out his arm. We started toward the house.
"Well?" I asked before we stepped back inside.
He nodded. "I'll look at her file the day after tomorrow," "I'll stop by the clinic then," I said.
He shook his head and looked at me with a small smile playing on his lips. "There's no doubt in my mind you are the daughter of Claude De Beers. You have his grit and determination, that's for sure." he said.
"I think deep in my heart I knew. All these years. I knew, He told me in the way he gazed at me from time to time, the way he watched me at work and at play. I think he was afraid to tell me while my adoptive mother was alive, and afterward. I think he was afraid for exactly the reasons I'm asking you to look into my mother's files. He was afraid that once I found out what her problems were. I would live my whole life waiting for the second shoe to drop, expecting something similar to be wrong with myself and, perhaps because of that, never having a real relationship with anyone.'
"Then maybe you are better off leaving well enough alone, Willow." he said.
"It's not well enough, Doctor," I said.
He nodded and then smiled. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
.
It was another exhausting day for me. Margaret Selby, on the other hand, seemed energized. According to her, everyone was excited about her upcoming wedding and grateful they had been invited. It was all she could talk about after everyone had left, Even Aunt Agnes looked embarrassed and finally told her to go to bed.
"Tomorrow will be a terrible day for us all. Margaret Selby. It will take strength."
"Yes." she said, and then brightened with the thought of calling Ashley and telling him about all the relatives who would attend their wedding.
I excused myself and headed back toward Daddy's office. Aunt Agnes followed.
"Just a minute. Willow," she called after me. I turned and waited for her to approach.
"Yes. Aunt Agnes?"
"I had a brief conversation with Mr. Bassinger and, of course, a long conversation with Mr. McRae. Your father set up some intricate financial programs, trusts and corporate pensions and insurance policies. It's all very complicated. I want you to know I'll remain here for a few days and review it all with you," she said.
"I'm not remaining here for a few days. Aunt Ames."
"What?"
The morning after the funeral. I'm seeing Mr. Bassinger for a few hours, and then I'm heading back to college," I said, avoiding any mention of visiting the clinic.
"That's absolutely out of the question," she declared, "There is simply too much left to do."
"Miles will look after the house, and all the paperwork that is required will be completed. I have full faith in Mr. Bassinger to have it all laid out for me. There is no need for you to bother. Whatever my father left to you, you'll get," I said dryly.
She pulled her shoulders back sharply. "I am certainly not in any way dependent upon anything he might have left me, nor am I some parasitic relative hovering over the bones. I can assure you that I am well off on my own. However, there are a number of things that were dear to my father and mother. and I would like to lay claim to some of that, if you don't object. They belong with me now. They should go with the relative who is truly tied to them," she added, which was her way of reminding me that I was adopted.
"Feel free to shop," I said, waving at the walls. "Just don't touch anything that was my father's."
I heard her suck in her breath as I turned and left her standing like a statue of ice in the hallway. Right after I entered Daddy's office. I locked the door again. I then proceeded to make a thorough search of his files and papers, hoping to find more references to Grace Montgomery.
Sifting through fat files filled with charts, evaluations of psychological studies. notes Daddy used for his own papers, and piles of articles and clippings he had hoarded over the years took hours. but I had the hope that there would be something well hidden, something sandwiched between documents.
