Page 93 of Finding Forever

Mom smiled. “I bet he calls before he leaves the airport in Denver.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, either.” I watched the truck until it disappeared from view. It sounded silly, but I missed Eric already.

“He’ll be okay. His family will look after him.”

“I know. It’s just…” I tried to put into words how I felt. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream. I never thought I’d love someone as much as I love Eric.”

Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “Your daddy made me feel the same way. It was a shame it didn’t last.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes. We were happy for so long that it came as a shock when it was over. But we’ve both moved on and are happy.”

I patted Sherlock. “Do you ever think you’ll remarry?”

“I don’t know.” A mischievous smile lit her face. “You don’t know any sixty-year-old millionaires who like spending money on their girlfriend, do you?”

“Not at the moment.” I laughed. “But if I meet anyone who looks promising, I’ll let you know.”

“You do that.” Mom wrapped her hand around my elbow and helped me up the stairs. “Do you still want to visit the cemetery after lunch?”

I sat on the sofa. “I’d like that. I wonder what Grandma and Granddad would think of everything that’s happened.”

She handed me a cup of wildberry tea. “They’d say it’s all part of the history of the lake. Did Granddad ever tell you the story about Mad Mitch?”

I shook my head.

“Well, have I got a story for you.” Mom sat on the sofa and sipped her tea. “It all started one dark and stormy night…”

I smiled as her voice rose and fell in a theatrical whisper. There was nothing like a good ghost story to banish the real demons, especially when they kept reappearing in my dreams.

sixty-six

RILEY

I was glad I didn’t come to the cemetery alone. Mom had a way of making the impossible seem possible, and right then, visiting my grandparents’ grave for the first time felt almost unbearable.

Their white granite headstone glistened in the afternoon sun. “The headstone’s lovely. It looks better than in the photos,” I said, my voice cracking a bit.

Mom held my arm gently. “I thought so too, but I couldn’t get a better picture when I took it.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I read the inscription: Forever in our hearts. It felt like just yesterday we were sitting around their dining table, talking about my first exhibition. Grandma wanted to know who would be there, while Granddad wanted to know how I felt about showing my paintings to a crowd of strangers. They were the perfect couple—Grandma, the practical, no-nonsense schoolteacher, and Granddad, the dreamer who saw what could be instead of what was.

I blew my nose, trying to keep it together. “They were wonderful grandparents.”

“The best,” Mom said softly. “They were so proud of you. Even when you were in your twenties, Granddad called you his little bundle of joy. They loved spending time with you.”

I smiled through my tears. “I have so many happy memories of living with them. After I moved to Europe, I wondered if I’d done the right thing. After a while, I got so caught up in the glamour of living in Italy that I forgot what was important.”

“How do you feel about it now?” she asked gently.

“For the first two or three years, it was the right decision. After that, it became more of a habit than a choice. When Granddad and Grandma died, I felt so guilty for not coming home.” I wiped my eyes, hesitating before I continued. “I’ve made a decision about whether I want to sell the cottage.”

Mom frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to think about it for longer? There’s a lot to consider.”

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want, but I can’t sell the cottage to the developers.”

She sighed and kissed my cheek. “I didn’t think you’d want to sell.”

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