In short, Mr. Smith looked utterly unconvinced.

"She is, in fact, my wife."

Timothy repeated the words, his gaze steady and earnest.

Mr. Smith had known Timothy for a decade. He was well aware that Timothy wasn't the type to joke about such things.

So, despite his surprise, he had no choice but to believe that the beautiful young woman really was Timothy's wife.

"Tim, you're a lucky man to have such a beautiful wife. Congratulations."

A faint smile tugged at Timothy's lips.

Before anyone could say more, their attention was drawn by a commotion from

Larkin's group.

"It's wrapped up so tightly-it almost looks like a painting."

has to be a

for

rolled her eyes. Jessica, bring a

way to Larkin's birthday party, making such a

pang of disappointment tugged at Sheila's

gift, just bring it—no need for all this mystery. Let's hope

on,

hints to his grandfather about wanting one of her pieces. He had a hunch:

"Jessica, go ahead.

meanwhile, barely glanced at the gift. He didn't really care about presents —he just recognized the handiwork of her late grandmother and wanted to meet Jessica

the frame. Beneath it was a

art paper, so to the untrained eye, it looked almost

banquet hall fell into an

moved, stood and walked toward the piece. Adjusting his reading glasses, he bent closer, eyes

are we sure this isn't machine-made? It looks almost

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