I searched the names at the bottom of the team photo again. Joe’s name was not listed anywhere. Instead, in the spot where he stood, it said Daniel Gibson. What the hell? I looked back and forth several times. I was certain this was my father-in-law in the golf team photo. Daniel Gibson? I suddenly flashed on the old legal boxes I’d found in Joe’s storage unit belonging to Bruce Gibson and Daniel Gibson, Attorneys-at-Law. Then I thought about the letter from Greta I’d discovered in the back of one of those boxes. The envelope had been addressed to Joe, but the letter was actually written to Daniel. My eyes went back to the golf photo and narrowed on my father-in-law.
Could Joe and Daniel be one and the same?
My thoughts were interrupted by Sheila, who stood at the door to the study. “Ethan was an All-American golfer at SMU.”
I quickly put the golf-team photo back on the shelf. “I apologize, Mrs. Tucker. I just drifted in here while I was waiting.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do you happen to know someone named Daniel Gibson?”
“No, I don’t recognize that name, either.”
I motioned toward the framed photo. “He was on the golf team with your husband. I think he might have also been connected with Joe, my father-in-law.”
I didn’t reveal anything further. Sheila had more than enough to deal with right now without being pulled deeper into this mystery. At least, not yet.
“Ethan and I didn’t meet until well after college. I don’t think he kept up with too many people from those days. I’m sorry I’m not much help to you.”
“No need to be sorry. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
I again offered Sheila my heartfelt sympathies. Before leaving, I took out a business card from my wallet. “Mrs. Tucker, if you happen to come across anything related to Joe Dobson, would you mind giving me a call? I would really appreciate it.”
“Certainly.”
I hustled up the street, jumped into my Tahoe, and immediately began searching Google on my phone for the name Daniel Gibson. There were a lot of mentions of that name online. Musicians, athletes, random other characters. I searched through several online pages with results that took me all over the place. Unfortunately, none of them looked even remotely related to my father-in-law. I did another search: Bruce Gibson and Daniel Gibson, Attorneys-At-Law. Nothing at all came up online about the lawyers. I was not surprised. The boxes of legal files in the storage unit were from thirty-five years ago. A third Google search: Daniel Gibson, SMU. I squinted at my phone screen. I got a few hits with this one, just old college golf tournament results and golf stats on a couple of obscure sports websites. No photos or write-ups about Daniel Gibson. That wasn’t much help other than confirming that someone named Daniel Gibson did indeed play golf at SMU a long time ago. I did a final search: Joe Dobson, Daniel Gibson. Nothing grouping the two names together pulled up.
Sighing, I leaned back in my car seat. The only thing I had to go on right now was the SMU golf-team photo. Using my Maps app, I located SMU’s campus nearby. Perhaps I could find something more about Daniel Gibson in the university’s library archives. It was worth a shot. I still had time before I needed to get back on the road to Austin.
I started my vehicle but then sat there a moment. I again thought about the old letter from Greta to Daniel I’d found in the storage unit. Was that really written to Joe? I will always consider you my husband. Could Joe have been married before? I searched for the name Greta Gibson online and found a few random listings. But none of the women were the age where they looked connected to my father-in-law. The letter had used the phrase c’est la vie （such is life）。 I swallowed, recalling now how Joe had used the same French phrase with me once before, during the reception after my wedding. Was he talking about Greta?
“Have I told you how beautiful you look?” I’d whispered to Taylor.
She grinned. “About a dozen times already.”
“Only a dozen? I have some serious catching up to do.”
“I won’t stop you.”
We both smiled. My face actually hurt from smiling so much tonight. Taylor had her arms around my shoulders while we slow danced in the middle of the banquet room, surrounded by two hundred of our closest family and friends. Everyone had been laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking to their hearts’ delight as the live band Taylor had handpicked belted out all our favorite songs. I’d never seen Taylor look so happy. She truly glowed in her beautiful white wedding gown.