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“You didn’t like them?” Clio asked.
“I didn’t know them. Their guilt over giving up four babies meant they couldn’t stand my presence. Better to pretend no children existed than to allow shame to slap them in the face daily,” I replied.
“Sorry to hear that,” Clio said.
“Don’t be. I didn’t miss out on much. Grandmother and Papa were all I needed; you’ll like Grandmother although she’s in my bad books,” I said, smiling.
“Why?”
“Because Grandmother knew and kept quiet,” I replied, and Clio nodded. I reached into the backpack and pulled out a frame.
“Grandmother gave me the original, but I had it copied earlier today,” I said and handed over the picture. Five babies stared out of cots crowded together. One blue hat bobbed amongst four pink bonnets.
“Oh my word, that’s us?” Clio exclaimed and looked over my shoulder. A shadow covered me for a split second, and Chance passed me and stood behind Clio’s chair. Chance’s lips twitched, and I sensed a softening in him as he placed a hand on Clio’s shoulder.
“Tati look,” Clio murmured.
“I’m looking, honey,” the woman replied.
“Guess we got lucky with just one baby,” Chance muttered, and Clio glanced up, smiling.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Clio teased. She turned back to me. I held out another picture, and Clio took it, and her hand wobbled.
“That’s the parents, one of the few pictures I have. Their names are Rupert and Mary,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. Clio shot me a knowing look before studying the picture.
“No offence, but they look stuck up,” Clio said, and I giggled.
“Yes, they believed they were better than everyone else. It sounds horrible, but I couldn’t mourn their passing; they were strangers,” I said and frowned. Chance frowned, too.
“Only love you had was your grandmother?” Chance asked.
“Yes, Grandmother and Papa. Our paternal grandparents didn’t want to know me. They blamed us for Mother and Father not having further children. Still, I thought it was divine retribution,” I said.
“Explains a lot,” Chance muttered, and I wondered what he was talking about. Ignoring the comment, I reached into the bag and pulled an expensive bottle of whiskey out.
“Inglorious says you drink whiskey?” I said and handed Chance the bottle. His eyes lit with appreciation, and Chance rumbled happily.
“Yeah, I do, but don’t think you’re bribing me,” Chance warned. I laughed, as did Clio, and we swapped gazes.
“Our laughs are the same,” I said, and Clio nodded mutely. The blond woman reached out and held Clio’s shoulder.
“I’m okay, Tati,” Clio said.
“This is Grandmother,” I said and held out another picture. Clio took time studying it and turned to Chance.
“She looks kind?” Clio asked.
“Yeah, baby,” Chance murmured. I pulled out a package and handed it to Chance, who took it. He unwrapped the gift, and Chance’s mouth twitched as he turned to glare at Inglorious.
“This your idea fucker?” Chance rumbled as Inglorious grinned. I frowned, puzzled. Inglorious had assured me, Chance would like these. I’d picked out six bandanas for Chance and had them wrapped.
“Did I do wrong?” I asked, worried, as Chance glared at Inglorious.
“No girl, it’s a long-standing joke,” Chance explained.
“Shit, I picked the wrong ones, didn’t I?” I muttered.
“No, these are fine, girl, don’t worry,” Chance murmured with another glare at Inglorious.
