I laugh.
“My dad’s just inside making coffee, let me introduce you two.”
I follow her through, glancing over all the pictures on the wall but then stop at one, unable to take my eyes off it. Sadie is standing between two men; River is on her left while I assume it’s his brother on the right. River looks just like him. They’re beaming at the camera; Sadie has a small but obvious bump and behind them is River’s neon green Plymouth and a black Shelby Mustang.
“That’s Logan,” Sadie whispers, the pain is so clear in her voice it physically hurts my heart, “It was a few months before he died, they’d just opened the track.”
“They look so alike,” I say.
“Mm,” Sadie agrees, “They were inseparable. Logan practically raised River, he changed when he died.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Marly,” River’s voice cuts off whatever Sadie was going to say, and I look over her shoulder to see him frowning in our direction, eyes flicking between me and the photo on the wall. Logan Junior stirs in his arms, so he starts to bounce him to settle and jerks his chin for me to go to him. I give Sadie a smileand head in that direction, stepping past him and into a warm kitchen. The walls are a pale-yellow color, the cabinets a rustic wood vibe with retro appliances, a cute little round table and a window that looks out into a small yard.
“Marly, this is Calvin, Sadie’s father,” A man, in his early seventies turns to face me. He has a kind face, lined with age and silver hair, his skin a couple shades darker than Sadie’s.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I reach out a hand to shake his.
“Marly?” He queries as his much larger hand engulfs mine, “Marly Winchester?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
He blinks at me, “You look just like her,” He whispers.
My brows draw low, “Who?”
“Winchester?” Sadie gasps, “You’re the Mayor’s daughter?”
My head bounces between Sadie and Sadie’s father, stuck on who I need to speak with first. River gets to Sadie before I can reply, and ushers her out of the room.
“Your grandmother,” Calvin answers in the silence that follows.
“You knew my grandmother?” I feel my eyes fill, I’ve never met any of my grandmother’s friends, I didn’t know she had any outside of the book club she liked to attend.
“Quite well,” He smiles softly, “Known her most of my life actually.”
My grandmother wasn’t too much older than him I don’t think, late seventies when she passed so less than ten years.
I soften, “She was a wonderful woman,” I say, “The best I knew at least.”
He nods in agreement, “She spoke highly of you, Marly, she was so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I blink back the wetness in my eyes, “That means a lot. Do you have stories?”
“Many,” He chuckles, “But they’re for another time.”
My shoulders slump.
“I didn’t think we would ever meet,” He continues, “She always said we would one day, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.”
“Why?”
He frowns, “Wrong side of the tracks, I know your family is very strict on where you go. It’s why your grandmother didn’t tell anyone of the friendships she had here. She worried what people would do if they found out but it hurt her. There’s a whole group of us that miss her terribly, we put on our own ceremony when she passed, I hope she saw it wherever she is now.”
My eyes burn with hot tears, “Thank you,” I swallow, “I’m grateful she had you.”
“She made me promise,” He continues, his head turning toward the window to look into the yard beyond, “If you did ever stumble over here. She made me promise.”
