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"Inferior?"

"Yes," she said, nodding.

I considered telling her everything, just spewing it all out like some undigested meal, letting her know what I really had to endure, letting her know about the pain and the trouble her actions years and years ago were still causing, but this wasn't the time. We had Grandmother Hudson's funeral to think about first.

"I guess you've told them everything, right?" I asked. She continued walking toward the lake, her head down, her arms folded.

"Well, not quite," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Grant knows it all, yes, but I haven't told the children the truth about you. Both Grant and I hoped that maybe we could spare them that in the middle of all this," she added quickly. "I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"No, I can't," I said angrily. "There comes a time when all the lies have to stop."

"It's not lying so much as it's not telling the whole story."

"What did you finally tell them about me then?"

"Well, not much more than before," she said. "I just added that your father was a good friend of mine in college and I was doing all this for you because of that old friendship."

"But when they find out about the will..."

"They won't be at the reading of the will and we'll wait until they're a little older for the rest," she said. "Okay?" She looked like she was holding her breath.

What had she done: promised her husband she could convince me to play along with their plan?

"I don't care what they know or don't know," I said.

"Good. For now it's better this way. Grant will appreciate that, too."

"What did he say when you told him?" I asked.

"He wasn't very happy about it, but he's understanding.

When he was younger, he sowed his wild oats, too," she said.

"I'm happy everyone's so understanding," I muttered bitterly. Then I paused and turned on her. "I should tell you that I met my real father in England."

"What?"

"Grandmother Hudson never told you?"

She shook her head.

"I found him with the help of a friend and I even visited him and his family."

"You found Larry Ward?"

"I prefer to call him my father."

She stared at me, astonished.

"It wasn't really all that difficult a thing to do. It was hard to get myself to have the courage to actually tell him who I was, but when I finally did . .

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"He turned out to be very, very nice, and later, when I met her, so did his wife."