I’ve always loved the scent, but hated the taste, a fact I try to fix by dumping powdered creamer into my mug until my coffee is the color of melted vanilla ice cream.

“I didn’t get any sleep.” I take a sip and grimace at the taste. Still bitter. “And Mom dragged me to the gynecologist at seven this morning.”

“Okay, I don’t need to know that.”

“Yes, you do.” I grab the sugar bowl and scoop several spoonfuls into my coffee. “Because now that Mom knows for sure that I’m not Lullaby Doe’s mother … she’s pretty sure Dad is—was—her father. The baby’s, I mean.”

I shake my head and try my coffee again. Not bad.

“Sorry. I’m too tired to make much sense. Did you follow any of that?”

“Not a word.” Penn pushes the iPad back and snags a chocolate-covered pretzel from the gingerbread house fence. “In your sleep-deprived delirium, you almost made it sound like Dad was Lullaby Doe’s father.”

I take my mug and sit next to him. “That’s how it’s starting to look.”

Penn blinks at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I take another sip, and this stuff really isn’t too bad now. Maybe a half-and-half mix with hot chocolate …“Did you ever hear anything bad about Dad? Like, at school?”

He sets his own mug down and swivels on his stool to face me. There’s a weary kind of dread playing over his features. “Beckett, none of that matters anymore. Can’t we just let him rest in peace? Can’t we just remember him the way he was before?”

“That’s not … I’m not talking about the pills, Penn. I’m talking about an affair.”

The word tastes bitter. It sounds ridiculous. Yet this is where we are now.

“Did you ever hear anything like that? Right before he died, maybe?”

“No. No, Beckett, there was never anything like that, that I know of. There’s no way he’s that baby’s father.”

“How do you know?”

“With all the crap people were saying about him by the end, I definitely would have heard something about an affair. About a baby.”

“Maybe not, if it was too new. He would have died before the pregnancy was far enough along for anyone to know about it.”

“Then why are you asking what I heard?”

Good point. I shrug. “I thought that if he cheated, this might not have been the first time.”

“No, I never heard anything like that.” Penn drains his mug, then he gets up to pour himself another cup of coffee.

“What did you hear?”

“Beck—”

“Please. Tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you why Mom thinks Lullaby Doe was our sister.”