Chapters (37)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Also by Barbara Delinsky
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“Aiello?” I repeat, scouring my memory until I feel a warm suspicion. “Danny?” I ask with a smile, because if the memory is correct, it is pleasing. Danny wasn’t a close friend, certainly not close enough for me to be invited to his home. But we shared a love of American literature and coffee chip ice cream at Gendy’s, so we got along well.
Lina’s eyes move over my face. It’s like she’s looking for something, though, for the life of me, I don’t know what.
“How is Danny?” I ask.
“He’s fine.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Teaching English.”
I clap in delight. “Perfect. He was made for that. Will you give him my best?” I might have liked a nod, but she is still searching my face. I wait for her to speak. When she doesn’t, I raise my brows again. This time, my smile is forced. “Is … something wrong?”
Very quietly, she says, “You look like your mother, is all.”
“My daughter even more so. You’ll see her, I’m sure. It’s like seeing a ghost.” Truth be told, now that I say the words, Lina Aiello is the pale one, clearly unsettled by me.
Time to leave. I start to turn, then stop. It strikes me that if this woman is here every day, she could be a help. “I haven’t seen my father in a while. How’s he been?”
“Fine,” she replies.
“Does he talk to you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Anything of substance?”
“No.”
I take a different tack. “Do you clean his room?” When she nods, I tip my head and, like I’ve just thought of it, ask, “Have you ever seen a gun there?”
Gentle as I’ve kept my tone, her eyes are alarmed. “A gun? No.”
“Not on a bookshelf or in a drawer?”
“I’d never open a drawer. That’s not my business. I dust, is all.”
Her alarm could be guilt, if she’s protecting Dad, but my gut says that’s not it. Her response to this feels more spontaneous than the guarded one she’s shown up to now.
“Okay,” I say easily. “I just wondered. He’s confused sometimes, so a gun is the last thing he should have. If you see one, will you tell Anne?” She nods but says nothing, and that’s my cue. “Nice to meet you,” I say and add a genuine, “Thank you for helping around here, Lina. It’s much appreciated.”