And I recognized the thin brown dog sitting faithfully beside him.
“Barry?” I asked.
I kept the security chain fastened.
“What are you doing here?”
Behind me, small footsteps padded across the hallway.
My ten-year-old daughter, Emma, appeared in her pajamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Mom? Who is it?”
Barry looked past me and saw her.
His fingers tightened around the brim of his hat.
“I only learned the full truth recently,” he said. “But Frank’s daughter has been deliberately hidden from his family for ten years.”
My heart stopped.
I immediately pulled Emma behind me.
“How do you know my husband’s name?”
Barry lowered his gaze.
“I didn’t know Frank as well as I should have. But I knew his family.”
One of the car doors opened.
An elderly woman stepped onto the sidewalk.
She had silver hair, a straight posture, and eyes so familiar that I felt the air leave my lungs.
