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"Ask it," Laura replied over her cup of cocoa.
The needlework dropped to Astrid's lap. "For the love of God, girl, what were you thinking today?"
Laura wiped at the cocoa that had splashed on her nightshirt. "What do you mean?"
"The funeral: that's what I mean! What did you have to say to Mister Wilks that was more important than your father?"
"It was about my father," Laura replied as she stood up to return to the kitchen.
"Well?" Astrid prompted from her stationary position at the far end of the couch.
Laura waited to reply until she had retrieved a napkin and was on her way back to the couch. "I asked him what he was afraid of."
"What could an undertaker possibly be afraid of?"
"Exactly." Laura was curled up on her end of the couch once more. "Aunt Astrid."
"Yes?" A long needle pierced wool.
"You didn't tell me that father killed himself."
Wool rubbed against wool after the needle passed through. "I know it's not fashionable in this day and age, but some things are best left untold."