The back door opens and Grandma Donna enters, her eyes brightening when she sees all of us in the kitchen.
“I was hoping I’d run into you again today,” she says, coming over to squeeze my arm. “Who was that beautiful girl in the garden?”
Everything in me goes still.
The dogs look between us, ears perked.
Dad raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Who’s that?”
Grandma Nancy turns instantly, energized all over again. “What girl?”
I rub the back of my neck. “That was Lola.”
Both grandmothers freeze. Dad blinks.
“LolaLola?” Grandma Donna repeats.
“The girl you went out with in college?” Grandma Nancy asks.
“Yeah…Lola Donavan.”
The room absorbs this.
Dad leans against the counter slowly, and Grandma Donna sits down carefully.
“She isbeautiful,” she declares.
Dad squints at me. “So…you just ran into her?”
I nod. “She’s staying at Windhaven. And we ran into each other in the garden.”
“That’s fate,” Grandma Donna says.
“You’re neglecting to mention the man she was with…Patrick Martin.”
Kevin’s tail thumps. Grandma Nancy folds her arms and studies me with unnerving intensity.
“Was there a ring on her finger?” she asks.
“No.” It was one of the first things I checked.
“Then is this a sign that you need to be with her?” Grandma Nancy’s eyes go wide.
Silence fills the kitchen. Kevin’s head tilts, and Bill blinks slowly. Dad watches me like he’s waiting for the final play of a tied Wimbledon game. I open my mouth, then close it again.
I’m not sure I have an answer for them.
The back door opens before I can say anything, bringing in a burst of summer air. Noah steps in first, tall and solid. My oldest brother is quiet and contained, but brilliant. He’s my hero. He’s gone through more than any one man should have to go through, and I’ve never once heard him complain.
Grayson barrels in behind him. He spots me and freezes, then his face lights up like someone’s flipped a switch.
“Uncle Tulls!” he yells.
Before I can brace myself, he launches across the roomand slams into my legs. I laugh and scoop him up, flipping him once before he can demand it.
“There he is,” I say. “The fastest kid in Minnesota.”
“I got faster,” he informs me seriously. “I been ninja training.”
