Page 17 of Hibiscus Heights

“I loved doing that.” Grant recalled lazy afternoons that stretched into nights studded with thousands of stars. Time moved at a different pace there.

“Your father always thought we’d return when you had children of your own.” Kitty’s voice cracked a little. “He looked forward to teaching his grandchildren to sail.”

Grant shook his head, remembering how illness overcame his father, robbing them of many good years. “We all thought we’d have more time with him.”

The silence stretched between them. He resumed packing, needing the distraction of physical activity to help him cope.

In the corner of the room, he spotted his father’s prized collection of vintage albums and 78 rpm records. Collectors would love those.

“What about Dad’s music collection?”

Kitty looked over. “Take whatever you want. He’d love to know you appreciated those old recordings. We haunted antique shops for years in search of those. He loved the chase.”

“I know how he felt. That’s like finding just the right vantage point and light.” Grant would chase the sun if he had to.

He ran his fingers along the album covers from bygone eras, recognizing the careful organization his father had maintained. Big band, swing, jazz, some classical. He pulled out a Glenn Miller record, the cover worn from years of handling.

“We loved that one,” Kitty said, standing to join him. “He played it constantly when we were first married. We’d dance in front of the fireplace for hours.”

On impulse, Grant changed his mind about getting rid of the old records. “Would you mind if I took this entire collection?”

“He would love knowing that. Jock always said music should be played, not just preserved. I haven’t listened to those in years.”

“Then let’s change that.”

Grant placed the record on the old turntable that still occupied a place of honor in a polished wooden cabinet. He turned it on, lifted the arm, and placed it on the grooves. The scratchy notes of “In the Mood” filled the room.

Suddenly, his mother was smiling again, and she extended her hands to him. “Your father never let a Glenn Miller song play without dancing. Come dance with me like you did when you were little.”

He chuckled at that memory. “I hope I’m a little better now.”

They swayed around the living room, Grant spinning his mother the way he’d watched his father do countless times. Kitty’s infectious laughter bubbled up until they were both laughing and crying together.

When the song ended, Grant held his mother close. “I’m sorry he’s gone, Mom.”

After hugging him, she pulled back and drew her hand along his cheek. “I wish you didn’t know how I feel.”

“Me, too. How about some tea?”

“I’ll make it,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

As she went to make tea, Grant pulled out another record. “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday.

He would listen to that one later when he was alone.

A few minutes later, the kettle whistled in the kitchen. Grant made his way there and carried the tea tray to the breakfast room.

They sat down, and he poured tea for his mother.

As he did, Kitty gazed at the high ceilings and expansive windows overlooking the bay. “Would you like to keep this house for your family?”

“You’ve asked me that before, Mom. It’s more house than I want to care for. The boys will be off to university in ten years, and I’ll be in your situation.”

“Not if you find another partner.”

He let the question hang in the air. With his work, Grant could be anywhere. Geography wasn’t a constraint as long as the boys liked their school. However, they’d had trouble adjusting these last few years. On top of their grief, they had been bullied. He’d been called to the school often to deal with the situation.

“Will you at least consider it?” she asked again.

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