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"Hardly anything," I said. "Geraldine never

talked about him and there isn't even a picture of

him--that I know of, that is. I know where he is

buried and I know he was killed in an automobile

accident and he was supposedly drunk. That's what

she means by a family tragedy."

I paused and shook my head.

"I don't even know what he looked like." "Wow. Well, we've got to search high and low

tomorrow for pictures, okay?" Misty said.

"What? Oh, yes."

"Maybe there were some in one of the cartons

up in the crawl space," she suggested.

"Yes, there were old pictures in a cigar box." "I'll go back up and get everything down. We'll

have a good time exploring," Misty said. She thought

a moment. "That was strange, that part about

Geraldine. Your mother made it sound as if Geraldine

was in love with Alden too, but Alden was her uncle.

Surely, she didn't expect to marry her uncle. I guess

she was just terribly disappointed in him for having an

affair with her mother. Men can let you down in so

many ways," she concluded.

I nodded, folded the letter carefully, and put it

back with the others.

"You're not going to read another one?" "I'm tired," I said.

"Me too. It's been a great day though, lots of

fun, right?"

"Yes," I said.

I reached over to turn off the light.

"You know, you closed your bedroom door even though we're the only ones in the house," she

said.