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Mr. Walker had long since retired, while Mrs. Walker had always been a stay-at-home mom. When you had three young boys home, it made sense to have somebody there all day, every day. It probably saved a lot on daycare costs too. All the children had grown up though. I imagined it had to be a little lonely to be in such a large place with so few warm bodies running around inside.
I often wondered about the Walker boys, my best friends and Chris' too. The last I'd seen of them was at the funeral, and that really hadn't been there to play catch up with old friends. We were all grieving over the sudden loss of someone we loved very much and a trip down nostalgia lane was the last thing anybody really wanted or needed.
Once upon a time, however, it wasn't just Chris and me. It was him, me, and the Walker boys. We were all close and had formed our own little social circle. I missed my best friends. Marrying Chris had caused some tension within our little group – tension we were never really able to get over. After that, our tight-knit social circle sort of splintered and fell apart, everybody going their own separate ways. It hurt me more than I cared to admit, to be honest.
Maybe now though, things would be different. God, I hoped so. I really did miss m
y friends.
I picked my son up off the ground, carrying him up the steps to the front door. This was still my home, technically, but I knocked just the same. My mother was expecting me, and as soon as my knuckles hit the door, it swung open with a startling quickness and when I saw my mom's smiling face, I laughed.
“Hadley! Grayson!” she screeched, loud enough that I swear the entire town could have heard the echoes. “Finally! You didn't have to knock, dear. This is your home too.”
“I know, just didn't want to scare you by barging in unannounced,” I laughed.
As soon as I stepped inside, I was buffeted by warm, comforting waves, and I instantly felt at peace. A fire was going in the fireplace, and the house smelled of cinnamon. It wasn't that cold outside, but it was still a little bit chilly, so the warmth felt nice on my skin. The mouth-watering aromas coming from the kitchen beckoned me, and I side-eyed mom.
“I told you not to go to too much trouble,” I said.
“What?” she countered, taking our jackets and hanging them up. “Cooking dinner and baking my daughter's favorite dessert isn't too much trouble.”
“Carrot Cake?” I asked, a slow smile stretching across my face.
My mouth watered at the mere mention of it. My mom's carrot cake was literally the best food, ever, in existence. It was legendary. She made from it scratch, and it wasn't one of those recipes I could easily recreate, no matter how hard I tried. “Of course,” she said, chuckling. “I did say your favorite, right?”
Mom took Grayson from me, even though my little boy was almost too big to be held these days. He was four now, which I still sometimes found hard to believe. He stared at his grandmother, but then looked back at me with father's brown eyes , tugging at my heart.
He looked just like Chris – from his eyes to the chestnut color of his hair. They both had the same boyish look to them, no matter how old they were. Chris always looked younger than he was – even at twenty-seven, when he’d died.
A knot formed in my throat, as if often did when I looked at our son and saw Chris staring back at me. He'd have been so proud of his little boy, and he’d have such a good father. If only there'd been more time, I often thought. Forever wouldn't have been nearly enough time, but still, a few decades more together would have been nice.
Grayson needed a haircut, his silky brown hair hung over his eyes, which I gently pushed back from his forehead. He knew my mother fairly well since they'd spent some time together, but he was still young and his memory of most of those encounters might not be fresh. He was a little stiff in her arms, a look of uncertainty upon his face.
“Do you remember Grandma Shirley?” I asked him.
He nodded, then turned his face to look at my mom. My mother smiled wide at him, that smile reaching her blue eyes and making them sparkle. I took after my mother in many ways, including the large blue eyes. Her rounder face made her look younger than she was, almost making it hard to believe she was a grandmother. With dimples and a soft, friendly smile, she looked like an older version of me. Sometimes, to my dismay, people thought she was my sister instead of my mother. Which, of course, always made her feel good – and hey, at least I knew when I got to be her age, I was going to pass for somebody much younger.
Her hair had more gray in it these days, though she no longer cared to hide it and it made her even more striking in my opinion. We both had light hair naturally – hers was a darker blonde than mine, while I had hints of red from my father. Like Grayson, I'd lost my dad early in life, but I still had memories of him. I was ten when my dad passed away, Grayson was only two, and it killed me that he wasn't going to have very many memories of the man at all.
“Of course he remembers me,” my mother said. “I'm the one who gives him cookies whenever he wants.”
I chuckled and shook my head. My mom loved spoiling her grandson, but since we were going to be staying for a while, I'd have to keep an eye out on the sweets. Once in a while, eating cookies for dinner was allowed – especially when grandma visited. It was a special treat.
“Alright,” mom said, passing Grayson back to me. “Why don't you two go get settled in. Your rooms are ready. Dinner will be served in about fifteen minutes, so get yourselves all washed up.”
I put him down on his own feet, and he took my hand in his. He stared at the house around him, not saying a word. My little guy was shy in new situations, that wasn't abnormal for him. I figured it was going to take him a little while to settle in and feel comfortable there.
“I told you we could share a room.”
“Nonsense,” my mom said. “If you're going to be staying for any amount of time at all, you need your own space. A woman needs her privacy, after all.”
“Thanks Mom,” I said, feeling grateful.
“Plenty of people in town have been asking about you.” She gave me a knowing grin and winked. I felt my cheeks flush slightly and a small grin tug at the corners of my mouth. People were asking about me? I could only assume she meant men, given that little gleam in her eyes. Leave it to my mom to give me a place to stay, ply me with my favorite dessert ever, and find me a new romantic interest within five minutes of setting foot inside the house.
Once upon a time, I had been a pretty popular girl in town – cheerleader, prom queen, all of that nonsense. That seemed like another lifetime ago though and didn't that would still be the case ten years later.
“Oh, in fact, I invited the Walkers over for dinner tonight,” she said as she moseyed her way through the living room into the kitchen, which I could see from where I was standing thanks to the open floor plan. “They should be here any minute.”
