Nils is sitting at the kitchen bar in a hoodie and flannels with a severe case of bedhead when I come downstairs on Friday morning. He's reading a battered paperback.

"I found it!" He jumps off the barstool when he sees me, brandishing a tiny manilla envelope.

"The key book?" I look at the envelope in his hand in confusion, still a little dreamy from what Rune and I have been up to for the past hour or so.

"Yes, and I found the key," Nils says patiently, opening the envelope carefully, then shaking a tiny metal key into my hand. He holds up the battered paper book, "There were a couple of stacks of old thrillers in the closet upstairs when I snooped around late last night."

"I completely forgot about those," I tell him, taking in the book's title, The Key to Rebecca, "You're so clever!" I squeeze his shoulder affectionately, "Let's go find out if it works."

I tell Nils to do the honors; I'm too nervous. The key sticks for a second but finally clicks, and the drawer slides open easily. Right on top, like in my dream, is a much larger, manilla envelope. Nils pulls it out carefully. Also like my dream, it's addressed to Rune in Theo's scrawling hand.

"Wow, this is it," I say, hoping something in here will explain Mom's behavior and help us stop Franklin, "thank you."

"That's not the only thing I figured out," Nils says, giving me a pointed glance and sitting in one of the other office chairs, making it very clear he wants to talk.

"Oh?" I say, trying to sound casual as I sit in the other one and swivel it to face him, "You didn't search online, did you?"

"No, I was tempted to, but I promised Mom," he draws his knees up and wraps his long arms around them, "I don't look like any of Bill's family," Nils tells me, his solemn young face such a mix of his parents, his eyes are his mother's, but the lighter blue is total Gunnar's, "I think maybe Bill guessed a while ago. He's been cooler to me since we moved to Ventura. At first, I thought it was because I wasn't interested in bike racing anymore, but I overheard Grandma, well, his mom, say something over the holidays that made me wonder."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," I tell him, reaching over to squeeze his knee, wishing he was still small enough to pull onto my lap. He used to be so fun to cuddle with.

"It hasn't been fun," he admits, "Being stalked by that photographer was crazy," he looks out the window, gathering his thoughts. "When we came in yesterday, I thought it was Rune. You know, because of our mouths and noses. But Mom was so normal around him, and he was always with you in Mom's photos."

"What photos?"

"I found a shoe box of them when we were packing," he looks a little sheepish, "I've got it upstairs. They're a mix of when you two were growing up, mostly trips up here, and some candid from Mom's modeling shoots. There are several of her and Gunnar over the years, including from that perfume ad they did together. It's obvious how much they liked each other."

"You know about that ad?" I ask, and then realize I shouldn't be shocked.

"Of course I've looked up Mom on the internet. You can find that ad on YouTube," he scoffs like it's a no brainer, "It's not easy having a hot mom; I wanted to be prepared for any surprises since she's so tight-lipped about modeling."

"Is she?" I had no idea.

"Yeah, especially around Bill," he scrubs his hands over his face and then combs his fingers through his unruly curls, "but I guess that makes sense now."

"I'm sure he'll still be your friend," I say, but Nils shakes his head.

"I doubt it," he tells me, "Is Gunnar okay with all this? Did he know already or…?"

"He didn't," I tell him, and he winces, "but he knows now, and he's absolutely okay with it," I assure him, "He wouldn't have asked you to spend the morning with him and Lorelei if he wasn't."

"That's what I was hoping," he admits. "He's so cool, Shells. He's such an amazing builder."

"You looked him up?" I ask, hoping he didn't accidentally find out more.

"Of course, I only promised not to look up gossip sites."

**

"This is it," Rune says, his hair still wet from the shower as we sit facing each other crossed-legged on the bed, staring at the envelope before us.

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"Open it," I encourage him.

"Shouldn't you do the honors since you're the one who dreamed about it, and it's about your mother?" He's eyeing the envelope like a venomous snake might jump out of it.

"Theo said it's for you, and you have the better reading voice," I tell him.

He tsks at me but picks up the envelope and carefully unseals it, "I just have more practice," he says, sliding a small dark green leather journal out of the envelope.

I recognize the journal as one of a series my parents gave Theo as a gift every Christmas. They're made in Como. The journal has a letter folded up marking a particular page. Rune unfolds it carefully. It's typed and dated with Theo's signature at the bottom.

Dear Rune,

If you're reading this, chances are that I, too, have passed. What a dreadful time it's been for you with the loss of your dear darling mother. Gunnar told me that Franklin Haus has made things even worse, doing his best to ruin your career.

Dear boy, this is the fifth version of this letter I've drafted over the months. Now that Shelby is here taking excellent care of me, I hope to find the courage to tell her to send it to you on my behalf. If the specifics of the content can't help you, then at least maybe you and Shelby can become friends again.

I met Franklin when he was a handsome, brash senior in High School. He and Eva (Shelby's mother) became fast friends when she came to live with me as a sophomore. They shared a passion for drama class, vintage clothes, and rockabilly music. They were inseparable.

Yes, I knew Franklin was gay, but he was also Catholic. As fun as the late' 70s/early 80's were, many people were still closeted, especially those from conservative backgrounds. The AIDs crisis made it worse.

No, I didn't like that he was using my niece as his beard. I tried to convince her what was happening, but she was sure I was wrong. Ah, the arrogance of a pretty young girl who understands how to twist most boys around her little finger.

I hoped they would fade apart when Franklin went to college, but he chose to attend Long Beach State. He was just a junior when he made the music video "One More Midnight with You" for that local band. Of course, he chose Eva as his muse to star in it, along with a young man named Scott Treadman. He was a handsome classmate of Franklin's who was already having some success as a semi-regular on a soap.

By this time, I'd switched tactics. I was trying to convince Franklin to tell Eva the truth. I told him I'd never forgive him if he gave my niece AIDS. He promised he would finally break it off with her if I'd loan him the clothes for the video for free (which I was planning on doing anyway, but he always needed to feel he got the better end of a deal). Instead, not a week after the video debuted, they announced they were engaged.

Of course, it was a publicity stunt. Franklin, Eva, and Scott were feted in the media. The video was the absolute darling of MTV. The song went to number one. Franklin left film school to go to New York to make his next music video without graduating; Scott was cast in a musical, and Eva took a leave from fashion school to follow them and make a few commercials.

She came home six months later, pregnant. She told us she and Franklin would get married quietly in Long Beach and then have a big reception in New York. But Franklin didn't show. When Eva finally got him on the phone, he made all kinds of excuses and kept telling her they'd marry soon, but he had too much work and couldn't leave New York yet.

Eva went into hysterics, but Franklin kept stalling. When I finally calmed her down, an ugly truth came out. The baby wasn't Franklin's; it was Scott Treadman's. This was Franklin's revenge on Scott, who'd turned Franklin down and stayed faithful to his girlfriend back home in Wyoming. But Franklin knew Scott also had a crush on Eva. So, Franklin devised a scheme for Eva to take advantage of it by promising he'd marry her and take care of her in style for the rest of her life if she'd get pregnant by Scotts.

Eva succeeded. Franklin was thrilled and sent her home, supposedly to prep for their life together. I was appalled, but I also felt guilty for not realizing how much Eva was under Franklin's thumb. My sister and I convinced Eva to have an abortion before it was too late and to go back to school and have her own life. In my journal, I've written down the name of the clinic in Huntington Beach and the date. I drove her myself. I still believe this was the right thing to do.

Eva doesn't. She was so distraught she jumped in her car a day later and drove up here to stay with her grandmother without letting me know until she arrived. I helped support her while she stayed for two years, finishing her fashion degree and starting to work in event design.

When Franklin finally returned to L.A. to make his first movie a few years after that, he connected with Eva again, expecting to find her raising their child and living with me. When he found out she'd had an abortion, he gave her a terrible time about it and disowned her.

Not too long after that, Eva met Sandro and fell in love. I hoped she'd put Franklin behind her. But she hadn't. Your dad was great at getting your mom in the press, and finally, she was such a media darling as the woman who designed the best parties, and that dam video started being touted as a classic masterpiece, that Franklin just had to be in touch again.

Rune, I'm sorry I was in the backyard holding court the night you met Franklin. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with him, but I kept the peace for Eva's sake. I don't know if I could have made a difference. I like to think I would have tried if I'd seen the interest he was paying you.

I hope you can forgive an ashamed old man for not speaking up sooner.

Yours, Theo

**

"Wow," Rune blows out, too bad we can't share it with the Narcissus podcast," Rune says, rubbing his eyes and leaning back on the pillows against the headboard, "your mother will never speak to you again if we do."

I scoot over to sit next to him, "I think we should let my dad decide," I say quietly but firmly.

"You want to show this to him?" Rune asks in surprise, "Shouldn't it be your mother's choice? And aren't all Italians Catholic?"

"Yes, most, but he's completely pro-choice," I fold the letter up carefully and put it back into the journal Rune left lying face down on the bed. I know on one hand it really should be my mother's choice, but I'm really angry at her right now. Just like Sophie Hatter I'm tired of being afraid of things, "Rune, my mom has used the threat of not talking, and now disowning me, as to me as a way to control my behavior. I'm done with it."