—A picture of Pietro holding what she presumed was a baby: She was getting good at this. She was glad he had new clothes since the sketches. Her aunt must have taught him how to dress at last! Back to – what must be a baby – because of the expression of adoration the pair wore as they gazed at the small bundle. There was a dog next to Iris, looking up at the swaddle of blankets. She had never seen a man, a lady and a dog look so happy. The cursive said simply: “My boys. 1948.”
Oh, no! It was the last item in the box—besides the newspaper with the bad man in jail she didn’t even want to touch again. She sighed, disappointed her birthday was nearly over. Then she brightened. Perhaps she’d start again, there was so much to...
She felt suddenly guilty.
She looked up and saw him. She swore h
