As he maneuvered the car into place, Faith studied his profile, trying to picture the boy he had been. Young and earnest, determined to do good in the world. Swept up in the excitement of Paris. Falling in love for the first time. And discovering a new, hidden facet of his father. He must have sensed a disturbance deep in the heart of the family he thought he knew. For a kid, the sensing but not-quite-knowing was a terrible feeling. She felt an impulse to reach out to that boy. To give him a hug. To tell him everything was going to be all right. But she couldn’t say that, could she? Because he hadn’t told her everything yet. And she had a feeling he was leading up to the moment everything had gone terribly wrong. “That’s some summer you had,” she said. “So did the seaside cottage belong to Celeste, or...?” “Yes. Her family, I think, although I didn’t figure that out until much later.”
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