What business?”
Another glance passed between them.
I almost laughed.
“How many secrets are there?”
“Not secrets,” Mom said softly. “Things we hoped would work themselves out.”
“Mom, that is the family definition of a secret.”
Dad almost smiled.
Then he grew serious.
“Derek has been restoring furniture.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“He started after he lost his job.”
“In your workshop?”
Dad nodded.
“He’s good.”
Of all the things I expected to hear, that was nowhere on the list.
Derek had hated woodworking as a teenager.
He had complained about
