“You’ve also corrected my bookkeeping.”
“Only because it was horrifying,” I quickly pointed out.
Lady Ferdinand shook her head. “What you call horrifying, I call creative.”
“It was fraud.”
She smirked. “Creative fraud.”
Winnie pressed her lips together.
I shook my head. “Well, since you’re already here, you should stay for dinner.”
Lady Ferdinand’s eyes warmed. “I would love nothing more.”
A year ago, dinner had often felt like another task and responsibility, just another thing to survive. Now, the kitchen felt like the center of something deeply important instead of just another room in the house.
The kids were setting the table in their own way. Billie was carrying the silverware in a way that made me mildly anxious she might accidentally stab someone. CJ was writing SUMMER BUCKET LIST across the top of a notebook in permanent marker. Bianca lectured him on his formatting as she arranged the placemats.
All of it felt exactly right. I leaned against the counter, thinking about how far we’d all come.
CJ continued to work on the draft of his first novel and carried it around everywhere like it was his prized possession. Bianca hadn’t had a nightmare in weeks and seemed lighter these days, more willing to laugh. Billie had recently begun doing chores without being asked. Granted, she’d also somehow managed to vacuum one room while accidentally trapping the vacuum cord outside a window. But the effort counted.
The kids had definitely been shaken by what happened. Watching a five-hundred-year-old vampire turn to dust in our dining room wasn’t exactly a standard childhood experience. They’d had nightmares for a while, and a lot of questions, but children had a remarkable ability to adapt to things that would’ve sent most adults straight into therapy. More importantly, they hadn’t come away from it feeling helpless. They’d helped stop Bogdan. They’d stood their ground when it mattered. Somewhere in the weeks that followed, I’d noticed a change in all three of them. They carried themselves differently. A little braver. A little more confident. Surviving something terrifying together had convinced them they were stronger than they’d ever realized.
The kids were growing. Healing. Becoming themselves again. Life had finally started moving forward without dragging us behind it.
Winnie slipped her arm around my waist. “Long day?” she asked.
“The longest.”
She kissed my cheek. “You’re home now.”
I looked around the kitchen. At the children. At Lady Ferdinand. At the garden visible through the window. At the woman standing beside me.
“Yeah,” I said. I squeezed her hand. “I’m home.”
Summer was waiting.
Dinner was waiting.
Most importantly, my family was waiting.
EPILOGUE
WINNIE
The first annual Gory Goods Bake Sale was considerably less stressful when nobody was trying to convince the superintendent to kick me out. A useful benchmark for personal growth, if I do say so myself.
The school gym filled with conversation as parents, teachers, and children moved between rows of decorated tables. Construction paper bats hung from the ceiling. Plastic skeletons dangled from basketball hoops. Somewhere behind me, someone had committed several crimes against a karaoke machine.
I was having a wonderful time.
“Your eyeball cupcakes are winning again.”
I turned toward Millie, who was wrapped in enough toilet paper to qualify as a mummy.
“Winning implies there is competition,” I said.
