“Why’d you come back, then?” “Shit happened.” He picks up the picture of Diana and me. “Your sister?” I’m momentarily distracted. “Best friend. I’m an only child.” Though there was about five minutes last summer when I had convinced myself that my father had a secret daughter—Mabel. “What about you? Any sisters or brothers?” “One brother. Deacon.” I recall that framed hunting photo on the wall in the Ale House. “Older? Younger?” “Younger. By two years.” “Does he help run the resort, too?” If he does, I haven’t seen him around. “He used to,” Toby says, setting the picture back. “Before he
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