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I was twenty-one, I found your old note.”
Rafael turned. “Sophie.”
She looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Dad. I was looking for tax documents in the cedar chest.”
He nodded, though the memory pained him.
“I read it,” Sophie said to Marisol. “And for a week I hated you more clearly than I had ever hated anyone. Then I hated myself for caring. Then continue reading …
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