“Because blue is a peaceful color, and I want our house to be peaceful.”
I pressed the drawing against my blanket, momentarily speechless.
Lily noticed a photograph of our staircase among Jonathan’s documents and asked why police had photographed our home.
I carefully explained that they were trying to understand the incident, without suggesting an answer or making her feel responsible.
She glanced at Dad before mentioning that Preston had been angry that morning and her grandmother had instructed her to stay upstairs.
Then another memory surfaced.
“Grandma told Daddy to get the papers from the blue room.”
The blue room was Eleanor Whitcomb’s private sitting room beside her husband’s office at the family estate. Locked cabinets held business documents and personal correspondence.
I remembered entering that room the previous Christmas while searching for drawing paper for Lily.
A large blue record book with a brass-colored clasp had been lying on the desk.
