There was no sign of Azalea or Lily when I entered the kitchen, and I assumed they were upstairs somewhere. I still needed to talk to Azalea, but that would now have to wait until I was done at the library.

I found Diesel and Laura in the den watching television. I explained to Laura that I was in a hurry, and she gave us each a quick kiss good-bye.

My four hours at the library passed quickly enough. Fridays were generally busy, and today was no exception, despite the approaching Christmas holiday. Diesel was in his element, spending time with his friends Bronwyn Forster and Lizzie Hayes, going between the reference and circulation desks. I spent a couple of hours cataloging before finishing up with a stint at the reference desk.

I tried to keep focused on the tasks at hand, but I did find my mind wandering occasionally to the tragic—at least, that’s how it seemed to me—story of Essie Mae McMullen. It wasn’t that I didn’t have sympathy for Cecilia Ducote, because her husband’s determination to carry on his family bloodline at all costs had put her in a nearly untenable position. But she had wealth, social position, and two daughters everyone believed were hers.

Essie Mae had none of those things. She did have another daughter, Vera, and a son, but I couldn’t believe she could completely get over the loss of those two children. I wondered if she ever violated that agreement and spoke to the girls. I could imagine the temptation. She must have been a strong woman to survive such loss.

From the angle of the Ducote sisters and their motives for doing away with Vera, I came to the conclusion that they didn’t have one strong enough. Vera had no claim on their parents’ estate, and with no compelling monetary motive, I didn’t think they would resort to murder. There was no proof that Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce knew the truth about their birth mother, nor that Vera did. She might have suspected something, but I doubted she would have been foolish enough to make claims she couldn’t back up.

It was rather odd, though, that I had found the journal at all. How did it wind up in that box? I should check to see if it was listed as part of the contents of any of the unopened boxes. Perhaps it was simply misplaced.

I would have thought, however, that Cecilia would be careful not to let it be read by anyone else. Why didn’t she destroy it? Had she meant to but simply forgot?

What about Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce? Should I tell them of the journal’s existence? If I showed it to them, I might be able to discover whether they already knew about it.

Then again, if they didn’t know about it, I didn’t think it was my place to give them the means to discover their true parentage. This bore further thought, but like Scarlett O’Hara, I decided to think about it tomorrow.