Page 147 of Curveball

I shake his hand and smile. “I’m Ripley. It’s nice to meet you.”

I turn to Colette and hold out my hand. She has darker hair and eyes. She’s much shorter than the rest of us. We don’t look alike at all.

She gives me a small smile. Also in heavily French-accented English, she says, “Nice to meet you. May we come inside? It’s very hot here.”

“I’m sorry, of course. This is a little crazy for me. Please come in.” I motion for them to do so.

Colette looks around. “You have a beautiful home.”

“It belongs to a friend, but thank you.” I motion toward the living room. “Why don’t we go in there and get to know each other.”

We all walk toward the living room and sit as we exchange a few normal get-to-know-you questions before I ask, “How long have you two known about me?”

Colette answers, “Our mother passed last year. We were going through some of her belongings as well as those of our father. We barely remember him, but it appears as though my mother held onto many of his things.”

I feel Mom stiffen next to me and squeeze her hand.

Colette notices but continues, “It was only then, in some paperwork, that we found out our father had another child. Wewere brought up to revere him, so knowing he had an extramarital affair and a bastard child was devastating to us—”

Pierre warns, “Colette, we’ve discussed this. It’s not Ripley’s fault.”

Colette gives my mother a death stare, grits her teeth, and nods. “Yes, you are right. I apologize, Ripley.”

I’ll give her that one small outburst, but if she looks at my mother like that again, I’m going to ask them to leave. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy. Go on.”

“That’s when we learned of your existence.”

Just then, the front door opens. Quincy walks in and takes us all in. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Quincy Abbott. It’s nice to meet you both.”

They shake his hand and give their names before he sits down next to me.

Colette asks, “And what is your relationship to Ripley?”

“I’m her husband.”

“Ex-husband,” I correct.

Quincy mumbles, “For the time being.”

I add, “Quincy and I share a daughter.”

Pierre gives a genuine smile. “We have a niece? How lovely.”

I slowly nod as I just now realize that’s the case. “I suppose you do. She’s only three months old. She had a long day and is passed out upstairs.”

Quincy intertwines his fingers through mine and asks, “What did I miss?”

I answer, “Colette was telling me how they only recently learned of my existence after their mother passed. I’m sorry we got interrupted. Please continue, Colette.”

“Very well. It appears as though my father made some provision for you before he passed. I assume my mother had noidea or she would have seen to it that you received the money years ago.”

I feel my mother stiffen again. I’m guessing his wife knew but decided to keep the money from me. It doesn’t matter now. And it’s certainly not their fault.

Colette reaches into her purse. “We’d like to make sure you receive what you’re owed.” She pulls out some papers and then hands them to me. “I’ll need you to sign these, and a check will be issued.”

I look down at what appears to be a contract, but it’s in French. I do see a dollar figure and gasp. It’s about five times what I make in a year.

She continues, “We’d like to get this settled before we return home. Pierre has some business in Philadelphia. We will be here for three more days.”

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