The kitten, Mr. Dashwood, streaks out of the room. Oliver waits. Waits. Then he darts after him in happy pursuit.
The cardboard boxes littering every room of our Blackwater, Pennsylvania farmhouse apparently make for a great game of hide-and-seek.
Bronwyn taps a fingernail against the bottom of a copper saucepan. “These are gorgeous.”
“They’re Henry’s. He’s very particular about his pots.” I hesitate. “You don’t think having a pot rack is too old-fashioned? The designer looked ready to pop an artery when I said I wanted one, but the contractor said he liked them.”
Standing near the cutlery drawer, Henry’s grandma points a wooden spoon at me. Her short gray curls practically vibrate with the same energy Bronwyn inherited. “You gotta do things your own way. If you like it, that’s what matters.”
Bronwyn runs a hand over the soapstone island. “I love everything here. It’s so homey.”
Freezing mid counter stroke, Bronwyn gives me a startled look then squeals, as if realization just hit her. “This is literally yourdream from when we were fourteen, Franki. You married your best friend’s brother, and we now live within hollering distance of each other’s houses.”
“Uh-huh,” Henry says doubtfully. “An astrophysicist is every woman’s dream man.”
I wrap my arms around his middle. “You were always mine.”
He kisses my temple so sweetly, then slides his hand down where his PA, his sister, and his grandma can’t see and squeezes.
“You realize I’ll be hanging out with your wife every day now?” Bronwyn asks.
Henry fakes a groan.
She shoots me a sidelong glance then smirks back at him and drags her words out for emphasis. “Every day. For hours.”
“You’re a menace. I feel certain your husband doesn’t remind you of that nearly enough,” Henry says blandly.
Bronwyn huffs. “For your information, Dean thinks I’m an angel.”
That is both believable and wildly generous.
Noah fills a vase with water at the copper sink. “Speaking of menaces, I should warn you my brother is coming to stay with Dante and me next month.”
I smile. “Oh, that’s lovely.”
Noah nods. “He’s quite delighted to hear you’ve both taken positions at the university. He’s considering studying a semester abroad at BSU.”
According to Henry, Elliot has made some major changes and is adjusting well. “That will be—” I search for the right word. “Interesting.”
“He really admires the two of you,” Noah says.
“It’s because I’m so pleasant,” Henry says, his tone entirely emotionless.
Even Noah laughs.
Bronwyn removes a blue insulated case from the tote at her feet and passes it to Noah. “It’s lasagna. Grandma Miller’s recipe.”
“You improved on it, Bronwyn. It’s better than mine,” Grandma says.
Bronwyn’s cheeks warm, and she smiles. “The directions are on the note. So you don’t have to cook tonight or order take-out,” she says. “Noah, I already gave Dante yours. So, you’ll have dinner at your place tonight too.”
“We appreciate it deeply.” He bows his head briefly before removing the case and placing the lasagna in the refrigerator.
Bronwyn claps her hands once, then rubs them together. “Okay, that’s that. Time to go.”
Grandma shakes her head. “There’s a box of glassware I’d like to wash and put away first.”
Five foot one to Grandma’s five foot zero, Bronwyn wraps her arms around the older woman in an exuberant hug and whispers something in her ear.
