The question floated around my head all through the day. Through dinner, through the washing up, through my favourite show (Mr What, of course, the shapeshifting alien from Sixam!), I couldn't really concentrate on anything but that.
Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. "Mom, I'm going to my room," I announced, and she stared at me, but smiled after a minute.
"Talking to someone?" she asked, winking, and I blushed hotly.
"No! Oh my Plumbobs, Mom, no!" I stomped away, glad to have an excuse to go. Mom was always checking in little ways like that if I had a boyfriend yet. She was the prettiest girl in school at her age, and had a host of boys with crushes on her when she was still in pigtails.
Me? Not so much.
I slammed my door, and locked it for good measure, before picking up the pillow and reaching for the photo album.
The next photo was a picture of Annabeth with the same man, heavily pregnant this time, and again doing the soppy romantic staring. There was a pumpkin behind them, so I guessed it was October, sometime.
The photos on the opposite side were both around the same time - one of Annabeth carving a pumpkin, and one of two pumpkins either side of the door. They seemed a bit angled, actually, and I guessed the man must have snapped them.
The next pages were sweet. A nursery, empty, obviously waiting for a child, and then the other photos were all of a baby girl.
Annabeth certainly seemed to lead a charmed life. A baby to love, and a husband who loved her. What I couldn't figure out was what the photos were doing in our house, seeing as I had no idea who she was.













