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The decorations of Casper Road were starting to appear on most houses and Bram checked them out as they walked.
“Hey, Hem. I really, really like Zachary,” he confided.
She yipped in response and he took that as approval.
“What if he leaves?” Bram asked.
Hemlock looked up at him, responding to the tone of his voice. She licked his hand and placed her head under it so he could scratch her ears.
He took that to mean that she’d still be there for him even if Zachary left.
“Thanks, Hem.”
The leaves glowed like fire in the bright early morning sun, and there was woodsmoke on the air. It was one of Bram’s favorite smells and always reminded him of Olympia and the firepit in his family’s backyard. In the autumn his parents would put a pot of chili to simmer over the fire and send the kids outside to eat an early dinner around it as the sun set. At the time, it had been an adventure—so much fun to feel independent out of doors with his siblings. As an adult he realized it was so that his parents could have some peace and quiet inside while they ate together at the end of a busy day.
Smiling at the thought, he took a selfie with Casper Road laid out behind him and texted it to his parents with a note: Miss you!
He knew they wouldn’t be up yet, but he liked that they’d wake up to it.
When they neared the end of the street, Bram admired Mrs. Lundy’s yard of stone and stick piles, marveling as he always did at how haunting they were—even more so now with leaves caught, skeletal, in their crevices.
He thought of ringing the doorbell to say hello, but it was so early. He sent her a text too: Good morning. Just walking by and admiring your sculptures. See you on Tuesday!
Bram enjoyed their Tuesday-morning tea so much. He loved hearing stories about her life and the people she’d known. About the ways Garnet Run had changed—which were really about the way the world had changed. She seemed to enjoy hearing about his life too.
The text came immediately: Psh, son, I’m an old lady. I’m always up. Come on in if you like.
Bram grinned.
“Want to go chat with Mrs. Lundy for a minute, Hem?”
Hem cocked her head and Bram took that as a yes.
“Morning,” Bram called as he let himself in.
She was in the kitchen and held out a cup of tea as he came in.
“Sit,” she said.
He sat.
“Good. Now, what is going on with you and the Glass boy? I must have an update.”
Bram laughed.
“How do you know anything’s going on?” he couldn’t resist teasing.
She gave him a withering look over the top of her glasses.
“I’m old, not oblivious. Not yet, anyway.”
Bram sighed. In truth, he was desperate to wax poetic about Zachary, but he wasn’t sure Zachary would want him talking to the neighbor about him. He could be so private.
“Go on, go on, it’s obvious, and I am the soul of discretion.”
She winked, but Bram didn’t doubt it.
“I like him. So much. He’s just...delightful.”
Bram couldn’t think of a better word to describe the quirky, funny, brilliant man. Zachary delighted him.
“We haven’t seriously discussed it, but I could see a real future with him. I know we seem really different, but it just works?”
Mrs. Lundy cocked her head, looking so much like Hem for a moment that Bram almost laughed.
“You’re both passionate, deeply feeling people. You both value honesty and fairness. And you’re both clearly smitten. Ah, young love!” she opined dramatically with a sly wink.
“You can tell all that from meeting him once?” Bram asked.
“Sure. But it’s also in everything you’ve said about him. And believe me, I know more about Zachary Glass than he might think. You forget I’ve been here a long time.”
“So you’ve seen him around here, you mean?”
“Yes. But I remember when that girl went missing in Cheyenne and the Glasses moved to Garnet Run. Terrible thing. That poor family.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a public case,” Bram said, feeling instantly foolish for not thinking to google it.
“Oh, yes. One of the largest searches in Wyoming history. And the mother—well. We all grieve in different ways.”
“Yeah, she sounds like she’s made her whole life about what happened, from what Zachary’s told me.”
Mrs. Lundy nodded.
“She spoke to every journalist and newscaster she could. And there, in the background, was her son. He was always there but she never mentioned him. It was like she had one child, and that child was gone. I would see him at Peach’s sometimes, alone. Always alone. Drawing or just staring out the window. Never any friends, never with his parents. I thought he’d leave the second he finished school, like so many of the artistic ones do. But he stayed. I remember being surprised by that.”
