“He looks like Jack.”
She glanced at Ethan but said nothing.
“He does, doesn’t he?”
“I suppose a little.”
A little? This was his son.
I was so sure of it that I stopped considering any other explanation.
“Ethan,” Denise said gently, “this is Claire.”
His face brightened.
“I know.”
“You know me?”
“Jack showed me your picture.”
“He did?”
“And Lucy’s.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That she likes dinosaurs.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“She does.”
“And you make pancakes on Sundays.”
My smile disappeared.
Jack had talked about us here.
“How often did he come?”
Denise hesitated.
“Quite a few times.”
“Alone?”
“Not always.”
“Who came with him?”
“An older woman. Mrs. Bennett.”
The name hit me immediately.
“What did she tell you about Ethan?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Claire, this is a family home. We have several children here. We’re given the information we need to care for them, not every detail of their families.”
