The picture shows them gazing into a tank at Sea World, one of Ian’s and my favorite weekend destinations. He has gazed at the tank in just the same way, and while I know the odds are nearly nonexistent, I can’t help but wonder whether we’ve ever passed by his biological half siblings—and whether there are any other children going about their daily lives of school and sports and vacations who share his DNA. As much as Wendy Winder complained about her twins (who can’t be as bad as she made them sound), I keep thinking, At least they have each other. Ian just has me. And someday I’ll be gone. When I see Doug Hepplewhite’s name on my schedule Friday morning, I steel myself for an onslaught of uncomfortable emotions. Doug is Dorothy Hepplewhite’s son and trustee. For someone who deals with the grief-stricken on a regular basis, I still struggle to strike the proper tone. Some people want to spend the entire session talking about their loved one, which, considering my hourly rate, can put a small dent in their inheritance.
