Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I kept my voice steady. “Thank you for saying that, Colin. It takes courage to admit when you’ve lost your way.”
“Can… can I come visit you this weekend?” he asked, sounding like the little boy who used to bring me bruised dandelions from the yard. “Just me and the kids?”
“The porch is always open,” I told him.
FINAL PART
Spring arrived in Austin with a sudden explosion of bluebonnets and warm, golden sunshine. My yellow house was fully settled—the kitchen smelled of cinnamon and fresh coffee, and Arthur’s old oak desk sat proudly in the sunroom overlooking the garden.
On Saturday afternoon, Colin’s car pulled into the driveway. Lucas and my granddaughter, Chloe, burst out of the doors and ran across the lawn, throwing their arms around my waist.
“Grandma! Your house is awesome!” Lucas shouted, running inside to check out his favorite guest room. “And it smells like cookies!”
