18 MUCH LATER, AS THEY STILL stretched naked in front of the fire, Dom rolled to look again at the painting of her mother. “Tell me about her. Tell me about the rest of your family. It’s your turn to open up.” “What do you want to know?” “Everything. And I promise not to file a report about it.” “Low blow. That’s my job.” But she said it with a smile, and he took it with a smile. He stroked her cheek. “My dad and my brother live together near Glastonbury, on about four acres. My dad’s depressed and my brother can’t keep a job. I try to whip them into shape when I go for Sunday dinners over there. Dad should be on antidepressants and Gilbey…” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Gilbey builds strange things out in the barn. I don’t know what they are, but they’re really cool. Beautiful. He says they’re sculptures. Anyway, every couple of months one of my loser cousins shacks up with them, too, and mooches until I come kick him out. I’m not too popular with the cousins, but they’re a bunch of potheads and I don’t care.
