The key Dad gave me worked, at least. I let the pair into his office (ours, I guess) and down to the end of the long, narrow space, inviting them to sit while I carefully perched on the edge of my father's chair feeling like a little girl invading a grownup's private lair but not sure what else to do. A call to him ended in voicemail, so I left him a quick message while the impatient Wanda and Chris watched me with narrowed eyes and the kind of insistence that told me I wasn't ...