Ben's head dropped into his hands.  "Not again," he muttered.

"Anna, you're supposed to be watching those kids!" Ray yelled back through the open window to his sixteen-year-old niece, currently sunbathing on the back porch. 

"I am!" came the reply, followed by the sound of a fashion magazine hitting the ground and a voice coaxing the two-year-old nudist.

Ray glared balefully at his partner.  "She must get it from your side of the family."

"Ray, my side of the family lives above or near the Arctic Circle.  In that part of the world, one is rarely naked except for bathing and ceremonial purposes."

"Maybe she thinks its ceremonial.  I know I never took MY clothes off in public."

Listening quietly in the kitchen, Sofia Vecchio just smiled.

An hour later, as everyone sat down to dinner, Ben noticed something sticking out from under his plate.  He'd helped to set the table, and he knew it hadn't been there a few minutes before, when hed gone to wash his hands.  Glancing around the table, his mother-in-law met his eyes with a knowing smile.  He slipped the item unobtrusively into his lap and waited until everyone was intent on their food and one another before looking down.

It was a photograph.  The black and white had mostly faded to grey, and it was slightly grainy, but the image was clear.  A young boy, barely older than Abby, sat in the middle of a flowerbed holding out an uprooted petunia to whomever had been holding the camera.  A liberal coating of earth was his only concession to modesty.  Something about the wide grin was very familiar, and Ben knew before he turned the photo over what he would find.

Sure enough, "Little Ray, May 1963" was there in Sofia's elegant script.  He tried not to laugh as he looked up at her.  She winked, and he slipped the photo into his pocket.  It would come in handy later.