“Welcome, Sophia!” Marie said as she stood, placing the tablet she’d been reading on the nearby table.

Sophia leaned toward her friend and accepted her welcoming hug. “Marie, your house is amazing.”

Marie shrugged. “I know it seems that way, but after so many years—it’s just home.”

Looking through the windows, Sophia saw a sun room. Beyond, there was a large yard where blades of grass showed their heads through the thin layer of snow while more flakes swirled in the frosty air. Trees lined the yard creating a private haven. Refocusing on the room, Sophia concentrated on the heat radiating from the fire. “That fireplace is huge! On a day like today, it feels fantastic.”

Marie smiled. “It does feel good. Can I get you some coffee?” Before Sophia could answer, Marie corrected, “No, it’s tea you like, isn’t it? Would you like some warm Earl Gray?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Within seconds, a woman was in the sitting room taking instructions from Marie. Sophia was sitting on the sofa talking with Marie when the woman returned with Sophia’s tea. Apparently, lunch would be ready momentarily. A few minutes later, a young girl rushed into the room with a piece of paper in her hand. Her voice cracked with each word, “Ms. London, I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Cindy? Is there a problem?”

The young lady shook her head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I know you’re busy; however, perhaps later, I could speak with you...”

Marie turned her gaze toward Sophia.

Sophia didn’t know what to say. It was obvious there was an issue. “Marie, I’m in no hurry. If there’s something the two of you need to discuss, then I’ll gladly enjoy the fire.”

“Thank you, Sophia.” Marie turned toward Cindy. “Come with me to my office.”

As the two of them walked away, Sophia heard Cindy mention something about a letter, the FBI, and her parents. Before she could truly glean any meaning from the conversation, Marie and Cindy had disappeared down a long corridor. Sophia sighed. This was a strange and different world from anything she’d known. The owner of this house was missing, yet no one seemed concerned as they carried on their daily lives, and the young maid received letters from the FBI...Sophia leaned back against the plush sofa and looked into the flames. The crackle and snap of the wood added to the allure. In Provincetown, she and Derek’s home had a real fireplace. Everywhere they’ve lived since then had gas logs. Supposedly, the two were the same. Inhaling the distinct wood aroma, Sophia knew, they weren’t.

“Are you ready for lunch?” Marie asked, pulling Sophia from the hypnotism of the flames.

“Yes, is everything all right?” Sophia saw Marie brush her palms against her thighs. It was the same technique Sophia used when she tried to hide her uneasiness.

“Yes, let me show you to the dining room.”

As they walked, Marie mentioned that Cindy had worked for this estate for quite a few years. She was only eighteen when her parents died in a tragic accident. Now, it seemed the FBI was interested in their death and wanted to exhume their bodies.”

Sophia gasped. “Oh my! How terrible! I’d never let anyone do that to my parents.”

Marie’s hands again brushed her thighs as they sat. “Perhaps you’d be better to speak to Cindy than I? I knew her mother—we were friends. I recommended that she deny the FBI access. There’s no good to come from digging up the past.”

Sophia sat back against the high backed chair and gazed around the lovely dining room. The built-in cabinetry at one end of the table held exquisite china. When her gaze moved upward, Sophia saw the ornate ceiling with reflective gold flecks. “I agree. It’s better to move on.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent back in front of the fire, discussing art and upcoming events in the Quad Cities. Before Sophia was about to leave, she asked, “Marie, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Not at all. I can’t promise I’ll answer, but ask away.”

“I really don’t have many people to talk to—not here anyway. The thing is”—Sophia hesitated—“before we left California, I received a call from my birth mother.”

Marie stared and slowly asked, “You received a call from the woman who recently died?”

Sophia shook her head, the absurdity of Marie’s statement made her grin. “No, the people who raised me were wonderful. I loved them and will love them forever; however, I was adopted. My parents were honest about it. I never felt deprived or less loved because my mother didn’t give birth to me. Honestly, I never really gave a damn about the woman who gave birth to me, or my biological father, until I got that call.”

Marie’s hands were again experiencing the sensory input of her slacks. “What happened after you got the call?”

“I started wondering about her and about him.”

Marie’s head tilted as her brow rose. “Him? You started wondering about your father?”

Sophia’s breathe expelled. “Well, yes! I mean, the woman who gave birth to me called, but what about my biological father? Are they still together? Did they love one another or do they still? Do they regret giving me up?”

“Oh, I see. Did you ask any of those questions?”

“No, I have a telephone number, but sometimes I think not knowing is better. I mean, I can make up my own answers.”

Marie smiled. “So, what’s your question, dear?”

Sophia readjusted her legs, curling one under herself as she leaned back into the plushness of the large chair. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded far away. “I guess I just need to talk about it. Derek listens, but he’s protective. He doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

“Do you think you will?”

Sophia’s lips pressed together and she feigned a smile. “I’ve thought about the possibilities from all directions. If I learn I have this great set of biological parents who have a great life, then I’ll wonder why they didn’t want me to be a part of it. If I learn they didn’t stay together or they’re not good people, then I’ll wonder if dealing with me was part of the cause.”

Marie leaned forward and put her hand on Sophia’s knee. “That’s quite a decision. I’ve known many people who have done things they regret. Perhaps that’s why the woman called, or perhaps she regrets what she did thirty-three years ago; however, I don’t believe you should feel responsible for anything other than who you’ve become.” Marie’s gray eyes shimmered in the firelight. “Sophia, you’re an accomplished, lovely woman. The woman you spoke to should be proud.”

The scene melted as Sophia fought stoically not to cry. “I miss my mom and pop.” With the back of her hand, she brushed a renegade tear away. “Thank you Marie. I suppose the holidays left me feeling lonely.” She reached out and held Marie’s hand. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.”

“You know, we don’t seem that different in age, yet look, Cindy came to you when she had a problem, and now, so did I.” Sophia chuckled. “You’re probably sick of listening to everyone else’s troubles.”

“Not at all. I’m honored you feel comfortable enough to talk.”

“I do, and I think you’re right before—no good comes from digging up the past. I don’t want to know that woman. I’ve been blessed with great parents, a fantastic husband, and good friends. Why push my luck?”

After a delightful afternoon, Marie walked Sophia to the door. Once Marie watched Sophia’s car pull away and the barrier to the outside was closed, Catherine murmured, “Eighteen years; that’s our age difference, and you do not want to learn about the man who donated his DNA to make you—I refuse to consider him any kind of father. He doesn’t deserve any credit for the beautiful woman you are today! The way things are now is much better than bringing memories of that monster into the equation.”