“When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. “So Lucy, I hear that you are quite the violin player. And then you go—and half throttle me. “You’re so cute. “But your hair,” he gasped. She would stare if she knew the full sum of Melusine’s activities. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. . " Mrs.
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