“I put down the spatula, zipped across the room and peered through the window. It was Viveca, cradling a small mountain of padded envelopes and photo albums. “Come in, come in,” I said, opening the door. “What’s all that?” “Research,” she said. “After I talked to you last night, I decided to dig around in the attic. My brother stashed a bunch of boxes there a few months before my uncle died. Tim was moving around a lot, so he figured Uncle Chester’s attic would be a safe place to keep some of hi...s old scrapbooks and pictures. I thought it might be helpful if you want to look through these and get an idea of who my brother really is.” I cleared a spot on the counter so she could deposit the collection of her brother’s keepsakes. Then I offered to pour her a cup of coffee. “I’m okay for now,” she replied. “Too much caffeine tends to make me jittery.” “That happens to me if I have too much of anything,” I said, smiling with the hope that it might calm her nerves.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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