He thought about something Chi-Chi once said. “People who have made a difference in the world were not politicians.” That comment spurred a lively debate one evening when Gaines was in town and the four of them went to dinner. She emphasized her point by mentioning Jonas Salk, Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Marie Curie. Gaines was stumped unless he went back to the Founding Fathers. Even now, some of their motives could be considered suspect.

Cullen smiled to himself. The four of them seemed to fit well together. He heaved a sigh and began to clear the debris that began as his lunch. Good thing Luna had brought him enough napkins.

* * *

Luna was pacing her shop. She was feeling restless about the trunk. It had been a quiet day at the art center. She had some time on her hands. She quickly ran back to Cullen’s showroom, where he was talking to a couple about one of the brass light fixtures he had recently refurbished. He gave her a quizzical look.

She nodded in the direction of the workshop and continued toward the back. Cullen excused himself and came up behind her. “Everything all right?”

“May I have one of the slats from the crate the trunk came in? And another look at the letter?” She was almost out of breath.

“I thought we were going to . . . never mind.” Cullen knew that when Luna got a bee in her bonnet, there was no stopping the buzzing. He walked toward a wall where he kept packing materials and handed her a slat from the crate that had encased the trunk. “Letter is on the workbench. Now scram.” He gave her a gentle, brotherly shove.

As Luna strode past the couple, she smiled. “Sorry. Sibling stuff.” They smiled back at her.