“Don’t you believe me?”

“Let’s just say I’d like some proof.”

She regarded him sullenly, then disappeared into the kitchen. He’d been certain she was lying, and he was surprised when she returned a few moments later with a small piece of stationery imprinted with the seal of Laurents College, in Willow Grove, Iowa. He gazed down at the neat script.

I just got your letter, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Am flying home to Iowa July 15 or 16, depending on airlines. Will call as soon as I get in and make arrangements for you girls. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.

Love, Granny Joanne

He frowned. Today was Tuesday the eleventh. Why hadn’t Granny Joanne packed up her notebooks right then and caught the first plane back?

He reminded himself this wasn’t his problem. All he cared about was getting those blood tests without having to jump through hoops for some bureaucratic busybody. “Tell you what. Go get your sister. I’ll buy you both some ice cream after we stop at a lab.”

A pair of streetwise brown eyes stared back at him. “What lab?”

He made it real casual. “We’re all having some blood drawn. No big deal.”

“With needles?”

“I don’t know how they do it,” he lied. “Go get the kid.”

“Fuck that. I’m not letting anybody stick a needle in me.”

“Watch your mouth.”

She gave him a look that managed to be both condescending and contemptuous, as if he were the stupidest man on earth for objecting to her language. “You’re not my boss.”

“Get the baby.”

“Forget it.”

Some battles weren’t worth fighting, so he headed down a hallway with a worn gray carpet and a bedroom opening off each side. One had obviously been Sandy’s. The other had an unmade twin bed and a crib. A whimper came from behind the bumper pads.

Although the crib was old, it was clean. The carpet around it was vacuumed, and some toys were tossed in a blue laundry basket. A rickety changing table held a small stack of neatly folded clothes, along with an open box of disposable diapers.

The whimpering turned into a full-fledged yowl. He moved closer and saw a pink-clad bottom wiggling in the air. Then a head covered with a few inches of straight blond hair popped up. He took in a furious, rosy-cheeked face and a wet, down-turned mouth that was open and yowling. It was his childhood all over again.

“Quiet down, kid.”

The baby’s cries stopped, and a set of gumball-blue eyes regarded him suspiciously. At the same time he grew aware of an unpleasant smell and realized his day had taken one more turn for the worse.