His grandfather had been behind that; even went so far as to teach the boy to write E-D-D-I-E in capital letters, hyphens and all, in the dirt when the boy was five years old. Her son’s name was Edmund—Edmund, Edmund, Edmund! And besides, Edmund knew better, too. He’d been writing his name the right way since he was three years old, and Annie vowed that she would twist little Edmund’s nipple until the boy learned to obey her and only her. True, Annie Lambert had given her son the name Edmund primarily as a dig at the old man. A private joke with herself, really, and she never thought in a million years that her father would find out Edmund was a character in Shakespeare—let alone a bastard one at that. But Claude Lambert did find out. How? Well, Annie never worked up the courage to ask him. As with everything else, however, Claude Lambert didn’t get mad or act any different toward his daughter than he had all her life. Quiet, cold, uninterested. No, the old man only got even.
