Page 13 of By His Play

But it’s not always easy. Money doesn’t buy happiness.

It doesn’t buy the kind of contentment and warmth that being inside Grams’ home always gave me.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Effie suddenly whispers, making me jump.

“I love it here,” I confess. "Feels like home.”

“It’s not the same without her.”

“No,” I muse.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sense the gaping hole when I walked into the house earlier.

Gram’s presence was always so warm and inviting. Sure, the house still feels like home, but something is missing.

Someone.

“Some days after I’ve visited her, I just sit here in my car. It shouldn’t be like this. She deserves better,” Effie says, her voice cracking.

My lips part to respond, but what is there to say to that?

“Come on. We should head in,” I eventually say reluctantly.

As much as it might hurt to be in there without her, we can’t spend the night in the car.

Effie sighs.

With my heart in my throat, I push my door open and climb out.

By the time I get around to her side of the car, she’s already on her feet.

“You good?” I ask, remembering all too well how wobbly she was when we left the restaurant.

Her eyes meet mine, and it’s all the answer I need.

She collides with my chest at the same time her sob rips through the air.

With my arms wrapped around her, I rest my chin on the top of her head and let her cry.

I have no idea how long we stand there with nothing but the cool evening air blowing around us, but eventually, Effie’s sobs subside, leaving us in silence.

Without saying a word, I lead her toward the front door and wait for her to dig the key out.

Together, we walk into Gram’s house with heavy hearts.

Although faint, the scent of cinnamon is still there, but much like the woman herself, it’s fading away.

“Go get ready for bed. I’ll make you a drink,” I say, turning toward the kitchen as Effie makes her way to her bedroom.

I work on autopilot as I warm the milk and reach into the cupboard for the hot chocolate powder. Everything is exactly where it’s always been.

With two fully loaded mugs, I take them to her bedroom and place one on her nightstand before lowering myself to the chair in front of her vanity.

Her room looks exactly as it did the first time I came here. It’s girly and full of memories of her childhood. There are photos of her and Grams showcasing almost every year of her life. There are pictures of the two of us on field trips, at my games, or just hanging out.

Each one of them brings a smile to my lips as the sound of running water comes from the bathroom next door.

By the time she emerges dressed in a pair of pink plaid shorts and a white tank, my hot chocolate is cool enough to drink.

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