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First Epilogue
♥?♥?♥
Bastian
“READY?” SHE SAID WITH FORCED BRIGHTNESS.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said.
They were outside the Raymond’s house, a century-old Craftsman with wide overhanging eaves and shingle siding painted a cheerful yellow. The highest gable had a row of dormers, and the chimney and stone accents gave it an aura of permanence. It was roomy enough for a large family, but built along cozy lines. Even the gray, wet Seattle weather couldn’t make it look depressing.
On the drive over, Paula had babbled at length about coming home to the house that held so many memories. Now that they were climbing up the steps to the porch, she hardly gave her growing-up home a glance.
Stopping Bastian from ringing the doorbell, she clutched at his lapel. “Remember. Mom’s one year away from seventy and has a bum knee but she still misses her garden. So don’t bring it up.”
“I know this.”
“If you show Dad a new gadget, he’ll start shopping for one right there.”
“Yes.”
“Calvin hates New Highland. He thinks it has a lame art scene.”
“I’m aware of this, and also of the fact that he’s wrong. Your brother’s an opinionated bastard.” He squeezed her arm reassuringly and rang the doorbell.
She hardly noticed. “That he is. But anyway, if Owen tries to talk about—”
“I met them last year, Paula. I remember all this.”
“Not Owen. You didn’t meet him, or Timmie. He and Timmie haven’t—”
“I remember about your brother and Timmie. I’ve talked to your father and Calvin, and your mother for that matter.”
“I know, but you only met them in person once. And not Owen.”
Bastian chuckled.
“What?”
He kissed the cold tip of her nose. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this nervous. It’s a new look on you.”
“I wasn’t like this last year?”
“At New Year's? No, you were too doped up from the flight, remember?”
“Oh, you're right. I forgot how much I forgot from that trip. Those pills did not work as prescribed. Thank heavens the pass was clear this year.”
The door swung open to reveal a woman in bifocals. Lori Raymond was shorter and significantly rounder than Paula, but the resemblance was unmistakable in her smile. “Baby!”
“Mom!” Paula’s face lit up as she wrapped her arms around her mother in a giant hug. “You remember Bastian.”
“Of course I do. It’s good to see you again, Bastian. Come in, tell me everything that’s been going on. Here, hand me your coat.”
“I’ll get it, Mrs. Raymond,” Bastian said, deftly switching the heavy wool garment to the arm farthest from the petite woman with the knee brace. He was well aware by now that she could be even more stubborn than her daughter.
“I told you, it’s Lori or Mom. You look cold,” she exclaimed. “Let me get you a throw.”
Paula and Bastian tripped over themselves to reassure her they were both warm enough.
