Page 92 of How Lulu Lost Her Mind

“Hard to say.”

He laughs. “A cemetery full.”

“Great.” I turn my body toward him and rest my cup on my bare knee. “Speaking of Jed, did you know him?” If there is any living person on the planet who might know something about his relationship with my grandfather, it would probably be Simon.

“Barely. He was friends with my family and ’em, but he died before I started coming around and working with my parrain.”

Damn. “Did Jasper talk about him?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Did he mention if Jed had a… lover?”

“Mais, no. Jasper was old-school and didn’t talk about his personal business.” He shakes his head. “Why are you asking about that?”

Instead of answering, I go to the library and grab my grandmother and grandfather’s letters. When I come back into the parlor, I say, “I found these bundled together like this.” I move across the room to the table and lay them out. “Come look.” Once he stands beside me, I say, “These were written by my grandparents during the Korean War.”

“What do you think?” I ask after he’s had a chance to skim a few.

“I think your grandmere sounds like mine, and your grandpere was uptight and wrote boring letters.”

“Exactly! Now read this.” I give him the last one. “All the other letters are in envelopes except this one.”

Simon lifts a brow as he reads. “I guess he wasn’t a stiff all the time.”

“I don’t believe he sent that last letter to Grandmother.”

Simon looks at me, then returns his attention to the letter. “You think he had a side piece?”

“Yes! Jed Sutton.”

“Is that your first bottle of wine this afternoon?”

I lean closer to him and point to the different penmanship. “This is Grandfather’s handwriting. This is Grandmother’s.” I slide the empty envelope toward him like I’m a lawyer laying out a case. “The love letter belongs in this envelope addressed to Jed.”

“So Jed could give it to another woman.”

“No!”

“Mais, wait.” He looks at all the evidence on the table before him. “So you think your grandpere wrote this letter”—he holds it up—“to someone other than your grandmere?”

“Yes.”

“And you think whoever scribbled this note”—he pauses to point at the article—“wasn’t your grandmere.”

“Yes! You got it.”

“I’m confused.” He shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs.

I wave at the evidence. “Grandfather was in love with Jed but married my grandmother.”

He rubs his forehead.

“Growing up, all I was ever told about him was that he was a war hero and got a Purple Heart.” I take a breath and continue. “I think Grandmother found out, and that’s why she would never talk about him again.”

“Tee Lou, stop, stop.”