Free A Family Affair: Winter: Truth in Lies, Book 1 by Mary Campisi Page A

shut out that little voice that’s sayin’ somethin’ ain’t quite right.”
    “Well, there’s no reason not to tell me who the owner is. If I want to find out, all I have to do is look up the company in Dunn & Bradstreet and all of the officers are listed.”
    She waited for him to say something but he just sat there watching her, fist balled under his chin, elbows on his knees.
    “Are you going to tell me?”
    “Guess I’m gonna have to now, ain’t I?” He let out a sigh. “You gave your word you ain’t gonna cause no trouble, Christine. You said you’d honor Charlie’s agreement.”
    “Of course, I will.” She just wanted a name. As long as she received a monthly check, she didn’t care where it came from and if the old man wanted to keep ND Manufacturing’s benefactor a secret, fine.
    “The boss’s old man and I went way back. I been with this company forty-three years.”
    Oh, God, he was starting again with the stories.  “Just give me the name Jack, okay? That’s all I want, so I know, and I promise it’ll stay between us. I give my word.”
    “It’s Nate. Nate Desantro.”

Chapter 8
     
    It was snowing, gobs of white sticking everywhere: trees, animals, cars. But Nate and Lily were tucked away inside his log cabin two miles outside of Magdalena, a world away from the storm outside. The stone fireplace crackled, filling the room with what Lily called “tree heat.”
    They sat next to each other on the old piano bench that had once belonged to their mother. The piano, too, had been hers, but she’d given it up years ago in favor of a paintbrush and router. And Nate had gladly accepted it into his home, found solace in the sound his fingers extricated from the keys.
    He reached over and grasped Lily’s hands, gently placing her index fingers on the keys. “Now, when I point to you, I want you to tap the keys three times in a row, got it?”
    Lily giggled. “Got it.”
    “Okay. I put a red mark on the ones I want you to hit. Here we go.” He played the first few chords of   Jingle Bells , watched her face split into a smile as she waited for her part. Then he pointed to her.
    Lily giggled again, raised her fingers high, aiming for the marked keys. She hit the edges of them. Once, twice, three times.
    “How was that?”
    “That was good, Lily. Very good.”
    She threw her arms around his waist, hugged him tight. “I love you, Nate.”
    He brushed his beard over the top of her head. “I love you, too.”
    “Play   Santa Claus is Coming to Town .”
    “Why?” He paused, his fingers resting lightly on the keys. “Santa Claus already came to town, and he brought a whole sack of goodies for Lily Desantro.”
    She laughed. “A lot of stuff,” she said, nuzzling against his flannel shirt.
    “Too much. You’re going to have to move to a bigger house just to find a place for all your junk.”
    “It’s not junk, Nate.”
    “Okay, then, toys. Bicycle. Dollhouse. CD-player. CDs.”
    She squeezed her hands tighter around his middle. “Santa didn’t bring me the bike. Daddy did.”
    He stroked her hair. “You’re right. He did.”
    She sniffed into his shirt and whispered, “I miss him.”
    “I know you do.”
    “I don’t want him to be in Heaven.”
    “I know.”
    “Why did God have to take him?” She eased her hands from around his waist, looked up at him, her blue eyes shiny behind thick glasses. “Why, Nate?”
    He was not the most God-fearing person in the world. Hell, he wondered sometimes if he even believed in God despite his twelve years at St. Gertrude’s and his altar boy duty. Maybe God was just a form to curse for the pain and suffering in the world, kind of like shooting practice with a billboard target.
    Nate’s life sucked. Here he was, alone at thirty-five, divorced, no children, not even a relationship with a woman that brought him gratification past a one-night stand. The only ones who brought slivers of light into his life were Lily and his mother.
    The