“Naturally, it’s finished,” Kern said curtly. “You stayed with mother for a time after you left?”

Unconsciously she reached to smooth back a tendril of hair that brushed her cheek. “Yes,” she admitted a little ruefully. “I certainly didn’t intend to. When Uncle Nate moved from Grosse Pointe to California, he left a few boxes of my things with Julia, because she was closer-”

“And it was a lot less trouble than having to mail them here,” Kern interrupted dryly. “God forbid he should ever have had to go out of his way for you.”

Trisha gave a little shrug, surprised he had remembered her uncle at all. “It wasn’t his fault he had an orphan thrust on him when my parents died. I hadn’t planned to go back to live with him nor your mother. It was just a question of going to her house to pick up my things. But the day I went it was raining and I had a halfhearted case of flu. The next thing I knew-”

“Mother had taken you over.”

“With appalling speed.” Trisha shook her head. “Well, I was ill, and then later it was a question of getting on my feet with a job. Talking to Julia about my leaving was like arguing with a brick wall. But whether or not you believe me, Kern, I grew to care for her very much and still do. Once I got past that formidable exterior…” She stopped, rather appalled that she was telling him so much so easily.

Kern leaned forward. “Go on,” he said, encouraging her.

“Well…I invited her to dinner after I was set up in the apartment. She was so shocked-as if she thought I’d just forget her once I left. Apart from my being an indifferent cook at best in those days, I don’t think anyone had had the nerve to serve Julia spaghetti in years. Much less invite her to a place decorated in early attic,” Trisha said dryly. “I remembered that she was fussy about salad dressings so I made a Jell-O molded salad. No one can mess up one of those. Only…”