“Must be pretty serious, whatever it is.” Miss Dickce frowned. “Can’t you just tell us?”

“I could,” I said, “but I think you need to read the whole thing so that you can see it all through Cecilia’s eyes. It’s her story to tell, not mine.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” Miss An’gel handed the journal to her sister as she rose from the sofa. “We will read it, and naturally both Dickce and I have every confidence in you. No matter what is in Mother’s journal, we trust you to do the right thing.”

“Bless you both.” I stood and took Miss An’gel’s hand. To my consternation she leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Miss Dickce didn’t move from the sofa. Her hands caressed the book in a constant motion. “Come along, Diesel.” I bent to take the paper away from him, and he glared at me. “Come on, I said, it’s time for us to go.” I placed the paper on a table, and he reluctantly followed me as Miss An’gel walked with us through the parlor and to the front door.

Neither Miss An’gel nor I spoke again, and even Diesel was subdued. He sensed the gravity of the situation, ever sensitive to mood.

On the drive home I thought about the contents of Cecilia’s journal and the stunning revelations it held for Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. Both had an impressive mental toughness, but the truth of their parentage would rock them to the core. I hoped and prayed they would be okay.

THIRTY-FIVE

A week later, on Christmas Day, I woke early with Diesel curled against my side. I savored the warmth and lay there for a while, recalling other Christmases.

When Sean and Laura were small, they would burst into our bedroom, faces aglow with excitement, eager to tell us what Santa Claus had brought them. Jackie and I would exchange secret smiles over their heads as they climbed into the bed with us, each clutching a precious new toy.

The first Christmas after Jackie’s death had been tough for all of us, but we made it through the holidays. I felt her presence near me every day during that time. I often felt it here, too, along with that of Aunt Dottie. I liked to think that those we loved best never completely left us. I knew they would always be in my heart, but somehow I believed it was more than that.

There were no excited childish voices to savor—until there were grandchildren, and I looked forward to that. I would be a doting grandfather, I knew, and I would have to try hard not to spoil my grandchildren terribly.

Diesel sat up and stretched, so I threw aside the covers and went over to the window. Dawn had arrived, and with it, the snow. I smiled. We hadn’t had a white Christmas in several years, and seeing the dusting of snow on everything added a lovely touch of magic to the day.

This would be a happy day, with my children and friends here to celebrate with me. Helen Louise would be here, as would Stewart. Justin had gone to spend the holidays with his family, and though I would miss him, I was pleased to know that he would be with his father. Alexandra Pendergrast and Frank Salisbury were coming as well. Alexandra’s father was off somewhere on a hunting trip with his cronies, and Frank couldn’t bear to be apart from Laura.