“Been a while.” Ethan considered as Phillip began to struggle in earnest. “Maybe the last time was Junior Crawford at his bachelor party.”

“Well, that’s ten years ago, anyway.” Cam grunted as Phillip nearly succeeded in bucking him off. “Come on, he’s put on some muscle the last few months. And he’s feisty.”

“Maybe for old time’s sake.” Getting into the spirit, Ethan evaded a couple of well-aimed kicks and got a firm hold on the waistband of Phillip’s jeans.

“Excuse me,” was the best Sybill could manage when she walked in on air blue with curses and the sight of Phillip being held down on the beaten-wood floor while his brothers . . . well, she couldn’t quite tell what they were trying to do.

“Hey.” Cam avoided a fist to the jaw, barely, and grinned hugely at her. “Want to give us a hand? We’re just trying to get his pants off. He was bragging about his legs.”

“I . . . hmmm.”

“Let him up now, Cam. You’re embarrassing her.”

“Hell, Ethan, she’s seen his legs before.” But without Ethan lending his weight, it was either let go or get bloody. It seemed simpler, if less fun, to let go. “We’ll finish up later.”

“My brothers forgot they’re out of high school.” Phillip got to his feet, brushing off his jeans and his dignity. “They were feeling a little rambunctious because we turned the hull.”

“Oh.” She shifted her attention to the boat, and her eyes widened. “You’ve made so much progress.”

“It’s got a ways to go yet.” Ethan studied it himself, visualizing it complete. “Deck, cabin, bridge, belowdecks. Man wants a damn hotel suite in there.”

“As long as he’s paying for it.” Phillip crossed to Sybill, ran a hand down her hair. “Sorry I got in too late to see you last night.”

“That’s all right. I know you’ve been busy with work and the lawyer.” She shifted her purse from hand to hand. “Actually I have something that may help. With the lawyer, with both situations. Well . . .”

She reached into her purse and took out a manila envelope. “It’s a statement from my mother. Two copies, both notarized. I had her overnight them. I didn’t want to say anything until they’d arrived, and I’d read them to see . . . I think they’ll be useful.”

“What’s the deal?” Cam demanded as Phillip quickly skimmed the neatly typed two-page statement.

“It confirms that Gloria was Dad’s biological daughter. That he was unaware of it and that he attempted to contact Barbara Griffin several times during a period from last December to this March. There’s a letter from Dad written to her in January, telling her about Seth, his agreement with Gloria to take custody.”

“I read your father’s letter,” Sybill told him. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I did. If he was angry with my mother, it didn’t show in the words. He just wanted her to tell him if it was true. He was going to help Seth anyway, but he wanted to be able to give him his birthright. A man who worried that much about a child would hardly have taken his own life. He had too much to give, and was too ready to give it. I’m so sorry.”