Page 83 of The Guilty Trial

Allie parked along the curb and helped Grams out of the car. They walked up the front path together, and Allie knocked twice before the door swung open.

Victoria stood in the doorway holding Joey on her hip. The baby's round face turned toward the visitors with wide, curious eyes. Victoria looked rested and happy, her dark hair pulled back and a dish towel slung over her free shoulder.

“Get in here, both of you,” Victoria said, stepping back to let them through. “I've been waiting all day.”

The inside of the house still had the look of a move in progress. Boxes were stacked in corners and along the hallway wall, some labeled in Jason's blocky handwriting, others in Victoria's neater script. But the living room furniture was in place, a few framed photos already hung, and the whole space had the warm, lived-in feel of a house that was slowly becoming a home.

“It's beautiful, Victoria,” Grams said, looking around the living room with an approving eye. “You can tell a family lives here.”

Victoria beamed. “We're getting there. Slowly. Come sit down.”

Jason appeared at the top of the stairs and came down to greet them, his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a smear of something that looked like joint compound on his forearm. “Mrs. Bishop,” he said, crossing the room to give Etta a gentle embrace. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Jason. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Grams?”

“At least once more.” He grinned.

They gathered in the living room, and Grams reached for Joey almost immediately. Victoria transferred the baby into her arms with practiced ease, and Joey studied the new face with solemn concentration before grabbing a fistful of Grams's cardigan. Grams smiled down at her, rocking gently, and Allie watched the two of them together until she had to look away.

Victoria disappeared into the kitchen and returned with mugs of coffee on a tray. She handed one to each of them and sat down across from Grams.

“So how are you feeling?” Jason asked, perching on the arm of the couch beside Victoria. “Really.”

“Much better,” Grams said, her attention still partially on Joey, who was now exploring the buttons on her cardigan with intense focus. “I'm ready to get back to my routines. I miss my garden, my kitchen, and especially my own bed. I love Colorado, but it isn't home.”

“We'd love to have both of you over for dinner once we're a little more settled,” Victoria said. “I've been dying to cook in that kitchen properly, but half my pots are still in boxes.”

“I would like that very much.” Grams looked up from Joey. “As long as you let me bring dessert.”

“Deal,” Victoria said.

They talked for a while about the house and Joey's latest developments. Jason described the home office he was putting together and the yard he planned to fence in the spring. Victoria pointed out the room she wanted to use for piano lessons once they were fully unpacked. Grams listened to all of it, nodding at the right moments, asking about the yard's drainage and whether the piano room had good acoustics.

After about half an hour, Allie set her mug on the side table. “We should get going. Someone needs her rest.”

“I'm fine,” Grams protested, though her eyelids had grown heavy in the comfort of the living room.

“You just flew across three states. You're allowed to be tired.”

Grams conceded with a small nod and handed Joey back to Victoria, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead before letting go. They said their goodbyes in the front hallway, and Jason held the door while Victoria promised to call about dinner.

“Take care of yourself,” Jason told Grams.

“I always do,” Grams said. She patted his arm. “You've done well, Jason. This is a fine home for your family.”

“Thank you,” he said, and Allie caught his expression softening at the word family.

The drive from Puyallup to Gig Harbor took them across the Narrows Bridge as the late afternoon light turned the water below a deep, cold gray. Grams gazed out the window, watching the familiar landscape unfold.

“I missed this place,” she said quietly.

“It missed you too.”

They pulled into the driveway. The house looked the same as it always had, solid on its patch of land overlooking the water. The apple trees in the side yard had gone dormant for the year.

Allie carried the suitcase inside and helped Grams unpack, hanging cardigans in the closet and setting shoes along the floor of the wardrobe. Grams moved through her bedroom touching things, running her fingers along the edge of the dresser, straightening a picture frame on the nightstand. Small acts of reclamation, reminding herself that she was here and this was hers.

When they finished, they went to the kitchen. Allie put the kettle on for tea, then rummaged through the refrigerator to find something quick for dinner while the water heated.