"There he is," Tyler says quietly, nodding toward the café window.
Uncle Marcus sits at a corner table, coffee already in hand, watching the street with that particular alertness that comes from years of waiting for difficult conversations. He sees us and stands, something like relief crossing his face.
We enter the warm interior of the café. The smell of coffee and pastries does nothing to settle the churning in my stomach.
"Calder." Marcus pulls me into a brief, firm hug. Then he turns to my pack with genuine warmth. "Elowen. Tyler. Julian. Good to see you again."
"Uncle Marcus." Elowen shakes his hand, but he pulls her into a hug
"Someone had to attempt damage control." He gestures to the table. "Sit. Coffee?"
"Actually," Tyler says, exchanging glances with Julian and Elowen, "we were thinking of checking out the bookstore. Give you two some time to talk."
I’m about to protest, but Elowen squeezes my hand once before letting go. "We'll be at Fern & Quill," she says. "Take your time."
Julian nods once. "We'll text when we're heading back to campus."
They file out, and I watch through the window as they cross the street toward the bookshop. Tyler says something that makes Elowen almost-smile, and the tightness in my chest eases slightly.
"Good pack," Marcus observes, settling back into his seat. "They know when to give space."
"They're the best thing that's ever happened to me," I hear myself say.
"Then why do you look?—"
His phone rings, cutting him off mid-sentence. He glances at the screen and rolls his eyes.
"It's your mother. I should take this." He stands, already moving toward the door. "I'll just be a?—"
"Marcus, did you speak to him yet?" My mother's voice carries across the café from the phone, sharp, imperious, loud enough that heads turn. She doesn't care who hears. She never does when she's angry.
Marcus presses the phone closer to his ear, turning his back to me. "Yes, Marg?—"
"This was YOUR idea, Marcus..." Her voice fades as Uncle Marcus takes the conversation outside.
"Margaret, if you'd just—" I hear before the door closes behind him.
I watch him pacing the sidewalk, head tilted towards the sky. I can imagine what she’s saying to him. Probably demanding that he convince me to see sense and choose Victoria over my pack.
The call ends. Marcus stands there for several moments, phone still in his hand, shoulders tense. Then he turns and sees me watching and inhales deeply.
He comes back inside, walks back to the table, and sits down with a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry, Calder."
"Uncle Marcus." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Are you in trouble because of me?"
"Your mother and I have been having versions of this argument for twenty years." He sets his phone face-down on the table with deliberate care. "This isn't the first time I've disagreed with her choices. Won't be the last."
"But she's angry. At you. Because Elderwood was your idea."
"She's angry because she's scared." He meets my eyes.
I sink back into my chair. "I didn't mean to put you in the middle of this."
"You didn't put me anywhere. I chose to stand between you and your mother's expectations." His mouth quirks slightly. "It's a familiar position. I've been doing it since you were old enough to have opinions she disagreed with." He downs the rest of his coffee. “You made a choice. A brave one. And I'll be damned if I’ll undermine that because your mother is having trouble accepting it."
I keep quiet.
