Twenty-Eight
Bluster
Finan’s expression does the talking.
“A few months ago, before I got to the island, Rupert gave me a thumb drive with photos and correspondence from my mother’s life. I finally felt brave enough this past weekend to go through the letters and the pictures beyond her wildlife work.”
“The canvases at town hall—those are from this thumb drive?”
I nod. “But there are others, including shots from Cordelia’s life before me. I suppose some were after me too … she was gone more than she was home. There’s a folder on there with just photos of me, from my childhood. Some are from after her death, so I think Rupert must’ve put them together. Last Sunday I printed a bunch of the photos—I want to make a proper album. I don’t know a lot about Cordelia Clarke, so I figured havin
