act of selecting which surname he was legally supposed to be using.For more than five decades, he’d thought of himself as Sean Cavelli, a man whose relatives on both sides of the family had their roots in Italy. Never mind that he didn’t resemble either of his parents or any of his three siblings.Currently, he could truthfully admit that he wasn’t quite comfortable with either last name.Still, as Thomas, his oldest son, had pointed out to him the first time they’d discussed this unexpected twist in their lives, he was still the same person he’d been before the discovery had been unceremoniously dropped on all of them. He still had the same abilities and insights, still had the background and training for the profession he both loved and did so well. Just because the letters of his last name had changed—and not even his initials, he thought, amused—that didn’t diminish his previous accomplishments or minimize anything he would do from here on in.He was still the same person, and whether that person was Italian or Scottish or some other ethnic nationality would not ultimately change anything.Sean carefully separated the fragments of a shredded garment he’d been given to work with this morning in the hopes that he would be able to extract some DNA from the fibers.
