Blitz (Blast Brothers #3) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,21

be all gloss and no substance than let anyone probe deeper. And that included Mina Lipinski.

In my office, she turned and stalked toward the conference table. She picked up her leather portfolio. As she turned to face me, she did something unexpected.

She smiled.

And whereas her other smiles had made me want to cover my privates, this smile had me thinking the polar opposite.

Her smile was sweet with a hint of sass, like she knew something I didn't. From behind my desk, I watched with far too much interest as she marched forward and stopped directly between my two guest chairs.

She held out the portfolio and asked, "Would you like me to leaf through it? Or would you prefer to do it yourself?"

I reached out and took the portfolio from her hands. Without opening it, I asked, "So what's this?"

"Proof."

"Of what?"

She straightened. "That I'm no liar."

I had to give her credit. She wasn't beating around the bush. And she sure as hell wasn't kissing my ass. But had she delivered?

That remained to be seen.

She pointed to the portfolio and said, "Go ahead. Open it."

So I did. Taking maybe five seconds, I rifled through its pages to see what I was dealing with.

It wasn't a standard portfolio. I might have called it a photo album, except it wasn't limited to photos. Along with various snapshots, it also contained a few news clippings.

There was one item per page, tucked in clear plastic sleeves. Each sleeve also contained a black sheet of paper, serving as a frame for each item of interest. The items appeared to be organized in chronological order.

After my quick inspection, I returned to the beginning and gave the first item a good, long look. It was an old newspaper clipping. The headline read, "Tomato Festival Draws Record Crowds."

The newspaper's name was the Hazelton Bee. I knew this because the story had a byline. The story wasn't long, maybe ten paragraphs of festival highlights.

But it wasn't the story itself that interested me. It was the corresponding image.

In it, a pretty blonde with a strong resemblance to Mina held a baby in her arms as she gazed out over a small carousel – only six horses total – populated by laughing toddlers.

According to the caption, one of those kids was named Timmy Lipinski, and he was the son of the pretty blonde – a woman named Libby Lipinski of Lipinski Farms.

If the caption was to be believed, the baby was none other than Mina herself.

As I zoomed in on Baby Mina, I didn't know whether to smile or groan. She was dressed like a tomato, as if Halloween had come early.

Her blob of a dress was bright red with small black dots resembling tomato seeds. Her tights were green to match the leafy collar near her neck. On her head, she wore a bright red hat, topped with a bunch of green, leaf-shaped fabric.

The baby tomato was smiling at the camera, as if she liked being dressed that way.

Talk about messed up.

And yet, I still wanted to smile.

Or groan.

As I studied the picture, the adult Mina had remained standing at the edge of my desk. Now I could feel her eyes watching me, waiting for my reaction.

I gave her none.

Without looking up, I told her, "Have a seat."

As she claimed one of my guest chairs, I turned to the next page. This one contained a family photo taken in a carnival midway. A sign near the photo's edge said, "Tomato Giveaway, 3 p.m."

In this photo, Mina was now a toddler, sitting in a stroller being pushed by the same blonde as before. Next to the blonde stood a sturdy looking guy in jeans and a plaid shirt. The guy was big and bulky, like he lifted tractors for a living.

Mina's dad. Obviously.

His hair was light brown, and he was smiling like he meant it, as if there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

Both parents appeared to be in their mid-twenties, younger than I was now. As far as having kids, they'd obviously started early.

I turned a couple more pages and saw more of the same, with the addition of another baby – another little tomato, wearing the same costume that Mina had been wearing earlier. A younger sister.

I kept going and saw proof for every year of Mina's life. I had to give her credit. She'd delivered and then some.

I was surprised – not only by the fact she'd gone above and beyond, but also by the fact she'd been telling