The Silent Sister by Diane Chamberlain Page B

thousand that would soon be in my own bank account.
    â€œI’m sorry, Jeannie,” I said. “How can I help? He left me more than I need right now, and—”
    She bent over and put her hand on mine. “Don’t even think about it, honey,” she said, her features softening. “I’m sorry to lose my composure like that, and I’m fine. Truly. I just wish I understood why Tom and Verniece rated so high in his opinion.”
    â€œDo you know Verniece well?” I asked.
    â€œNot all that well. They pretty much keep to themselves out there.”
    â€œShe told me I was adopted.”
    Jeannie’s blue eyes flew open even wider than usual. “What?” she said. “That’s crazy.”
    Had the color left her face or was I imagining it? “She says my mother told her I was.”
    â€œShe didn’t even know your mother,” Jeannie scoffed as she set the pipe back on its ledge again, fingers shivering. “Not really.”
    I hesitated before I spoke again. “Well, she admitted that,” I said, “but according to Verniece, she was upset over losing a baby and my mother suggested that she wasn’t too old to adopt. She said she and Daddy adopted me, and that’s what encouraged Verniece and Tom to adopt a little boy.”
    â€œLudicrous,” Jeannie said. “Just utterly ludicrous. Think about it,” she said. “Even if it were true, your mother wouldn’t tell a near stranger, for heaven’s sake. You know what a private person she was.”
    â€œActually, I don’t know that,” I said. “I only know what she was like with me, not what she was—”
    â€œListen to me, Riley. I was her dearest, oldest friend and she still wouldn’t tell me half the things that were going on with her. So the idea of her telling a woman she barely knew something that intimate is just plain silly.”
    â€œI guess.” I felt only slightly relieved, especially with Jeannie admitting that my mother didn’t tell her everything. Maybe my mother’d had a weak moment, touched by Verniece’s pain, knowing she could say something to relieve it. Verniece was so sweet. I could understand how she might have inspired my mother to confide in her.
    â€œEnough of that nonsense,” Jeannie said. She picked up a notepad from the piano bench where she’d set it when she first arrived at the house. “I’m going to walk through the house and make a list of what needs to be done, starting with the collections upstairs. I can’t wait for you to meet Christine,” she added. “You’re going to love her and vice versa. She really knows the value of things and ways to publicize a successful estate sale.”
    â€œI found Daddy’s keys for the upstairs cabinets, if you need them.” I thought of the key to his RV that I’d left with Verniece. “Do you happen to know if he let someone else use his RV?” I asked.
    â€œHeavens, no! He loved that old thing. He called it his man cave. Even I wasn’t allowed inside.”
    â€œIt’s strange,” I said. “He has a bunch of CDs in there, but they’re all bluegrass and country. When have you ever known my father to listen to bluegrass?”
    â€œI haven’t,” she admitted, “but he knew that wasn’t my thing, so he probably just didn’t play it around me. He had very varied tastes.” She looked at me. “And we’ve already established that you didn’t know much about him, haven’t we?” It wasn’t a question; it was a dig, and the sympathy I’d felt for her moments earlier melted away. I did not like this woman! I didn’t trust her. I just didn’t. “So,” she said, taking me by the arm and leading me over to the wall of cabinets. “You get started here going through your father’s papers, and I’ll work upstairs.”
    I felt