“You sat in my Denver law office eight years ago,” Richard said, his voice dropping into the low register he used for formal depositions.

“You told your mother and me that the pregnancy had ended in the second month and that a signed liability release was in the vault.”

Ethan backed up until his shoulders touched the carved newel post of the grand staircase.

“Dad, let me explain the context of what happened back then.”

“Answer your father,” Margaret said, pushing herself up from her wingback chair.

Her linen napkin drifted down to the rug as her hand flew to her double strand of pearls at her collarbone.