Chapter 47
Seattle-Tacoma International Airport
Seattle, Washington
Allie stood in the arrivals area at Sea-Tac, watching passengers stream through the automatic doors in an uneven current of rolling luggage and tired faces.
A family of four came through first, the father hauling an overstuffed duffel while the mother corralled two small children still buzzing with the restless energy of a long flight.
Behind them, a businessman in a rumpled suit walked with his phone already pressed to his ear, his expression suggesting the call had started before the plane touched down.
She checked the time on her phone. The flight from Denver had landed twelve minutes ago, and Grams was never one to dawdle at baggage claim.
Nervous anticipation had been buzzing through her all day, and she allowed herself to feel the ache that came from missing her grandmother.
Then she spotted her.
Grams came through the doors pulling her small rolling suitcase, the same hardcase she packed weeks ago while Allie hovered nearby, pretending not to worry.
She looked thinner, her cardigan hanging a little looser across her shoulders, but her posture was straight and her steps were steady.
She scanned the crowd and immediately perked up when she spotted her granddaughter.
Allie hurried over and pulled her into a hug, careful not to squeeze too hard. Grams felt smaller against her, lighter somehow, and Allie held on for an extra beat before letting go.
Grams squeezed her back, then stepped away and looked up at her with those sharp eyes through her pink-rimmed glasses. “It's good to be home, sweetheart.”
“It's good to have you home.” Allie took the suitcase handle from her and started walking toward the parking garage. “How was the flight?”
“Long. The man next to me snored the entire way from Denver. I considered poking him with my knitting needle, but I thought that might cause a scene.”
Allie smiled. “Probably a wise call.”
They made their way through the garage and found the car. Allie loaded the suitcase into the trunk while Grams settled into the passenger seat with a sigh that sounded like it had been building for weeks.
The drive south on I-5 was slow with afternoon traffic, brake lights stretching ahead of them in a red chain that pulsed and stopped.
Grams watched the passing landscape, her eyes moving from the strip malls to the evergreens and back again.
Allie kept her hands on the wheel and let the silence rest easy between them.
After a few miles, Grams turned to her. “I've been watching the news, you know. That case you've been working on. It's been all over the national coverage.”
Allie glanced at her. “What have you seen?”
“Enough to know it's been a terrible business. A U.S. Attorney, a judge, another attorney. People being killed over some trial from years ago.” Grams shook her head.
Allie gave her the broad strokes without going into the darkest details.
She told her about the Torrino RICO case and what the investigation had uncovered, about prosecutors and a marshal who’d decided that winning mattered more than the truth.
She left out the brandings, the crime scene photographs, and the image of Sarah Park's body at Commencement Bay. Grams didn’t need to carry those pictures.
When she finished, Grams was quiet for a long moment. “It's hard to believe,” she said. “People who were sworn to uphold justice doing something like that. They were supposed to be the ones protecting it.”
“I know.” Allie changed lanes to let a merging truck pass.
“Marze said something that stuck with me.
He said power without integrity corrupts everything it touches.
I think that's exactly what happened here. They had the power to put a dangerous man away, and they decided the ends justified the means. Once they crossed that line, there was no coming back.”
Grams considered this. “And people died because of it.”
“Yes.”
“I always knew he was a wise man, that boss of yours.”
“He has his moments,” Allie said, and she felt the corner of her mouth lift.
They drove on, the traffic gradually thinning as they moved past the sprawl into Pierce County.
Grams asked about the weather while she was gone, about whether the garden had survived, about Connie and her chickens.
They were normal questions, and Allie answered each one, grateful for how much she’d missed this particular rhythm of conversation.
They took the exit for Puyallup, and Allie turned down a residential street lined with mature maples, their branches mostly bare now, with only a few stubborn leaves clinging in shades of rust and copper.
She slowed as they approached a charming two-story house with slate blue siding and a covered front porch.
A swing hung at one end of the porch, swaying gently in the November breeze.
The yard was bigger than anything Jason and Victoria could have afforded in Tacoma, with enough room for a child to run.
“This is it?” Grams leaned forward, taking in the house.
“This is it.”
“Oh, it's lovely.”
Allie parked along the curb and helped Grams out of the car. They walked up the front path together, and Allie knocked twice before the door swung open.
Victoria stood in the doorway holding Joey on her hip. The baby's round face turned toward the visitors with wide, curious eyes. Victoria looked rested and happy, her dark hair pulled back and a dish towel slung over her free shoulder.
“Get in here, both of you,” Victoria said, stepping back to let them through. “I've been waiting all day.”
The inside of the house still had the look of a move in progress.
Boxes were stacked in corners and along the hallway wall, some labeled in Jason's blocky handwriting, others in Victoria's neater script.
But the living room furniture was in place, a few framed photos already hung, and the whole space had the warm, lived-in feel of a house that was slowly becoming a home.
“It's beautiful, Victoria,” Grams said, looking around the living room with an approving eye. “You can tell a family lives here.”
Victoria beamed. “We're getting there. Slowly. Come sit down.”
Jason appeared at the top of the stairs and came down to greet them, his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a smear of something that looked like joint compound on his forearm. “Mrs. Bishop,” he said, crossing the room to give Etta a gentle embrace. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, Jason. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Grams?”
“At least once more.” He grinned.
They gathered in the living room, and Grams reached for Joey almost immediately.
Victoria transferred the baby into her arms with practiced ease, and Joey studied the new face with solemn concentration before grabbing a fistful of Grams's cardigan.
Grams smiled down at her, rocking gently, and Allie watched the two of them together until she had to look away.
Victoria disappeared into the kitchen and returned with mugs of coffee on a tray. She handed one to each of them and sat down across from Grams.
“So how are you feeling?” Jason asked, perching on the arm of the couch beside Victoria. “Really.”
“Much better,” Grams said, her attention still partially on Joey, who was now exploring the buttons on her cardigan with intense focus. “I'm ready to get back to my routines. I miss my garden, my kitchen, and especially my own bed. I love Colorado, but it isn't home.”
“We'd love to have both of you over for dinner once we're a little more settled,” Victoria said. “I've been dying to cook in that kitchen properly, but half my pots are still in boxes.”
“I would like that very much.” Grams looked up from Joey. “As long as you let me bring dessert.”
“Deal,” Victoria said.
They talked for a while about the house and Joey's latest developments.
Jason described the home office he was putting together and the yard he planned to fence in the spring.
Victoria pointed out the room she wanted to use for piano lessons once they were fully unpacked.
Grams listened to all of it, nodding at the right moments, asking about the yard's drainage and whether the piano room had good acoustics.
After about half an hour, Allie set her mug on the side table. “We should get going. Someone needs her rest.”
“I'm fine,” Grams protested, though her eyelids had grown heavy in the comfort of the living room.
“You just flew across three states. You're allowed to be tired.”
Grams conceded with a small nod and handed Joey back to Victoria, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead before letting go. They said their goodbyes in the front hallway, and Jason held the door while Victoria promised to call about dinner.
“Take care of yourself,” Jason told Grams.
“I always do,” Grams said. She patted his arm. “You've done well, Jason. This is a fine home for your family.”
“Thank you,” he said, and Allie caught his expression softening at the word family.
The drive from Puyallup to Gig Harbor took them across the Narrows Bridge as the late afternoon light turned the water below a deep, cold gray. Grams gazed out the window, watching the familiar landscape unfold.
“I missed this place,” she said quietly.
“It missed you too.”
They pulled into the driveway. The house looked the same as it always had, solid on its patch of land overlooking the water. The apple trees in the side yard had gone dormant for the year.
Allie carried the suitcase inside and helped Grams unpack, hanging cardigans in the closet and setting shoes along the floor of the wardrobe.
Grams moved through her bedroom touching things, running her fingers along the edge of the dresser, straightening a picture frame on the nightstand.
Small acts of reclamation, reminding herself that she was here and this was hers.
When they finished, they went to the kitchen. Allie put the kettle on for tea, then rummaged through the refrigerator to find something quick for dinner while the water heated.
Grams joined her, moving slowly. “Let me do that.”
“Sit, Grams. You’ve had a long day.”
“Yes, but you know I love feeding you.”
“Grams,” Allie said with a small warning. “Let me take care of you.”
When she finally sat down, Allie switched to the freezer and pulled out a container of chili. While they waited for it to heat, they sat together at the kitchen table. The last of the evening light came through the windows, casting long amber shapes across the worn wood surface.
Allie's phone buzzed on the table. She picked it up and read the text.
Dinner this weekend? I'll cook. Duke misses you.
She smiled before she could help it and typed back: I'd love to.
When she set the phone down, Grams was watching her over the rim of her teacup with an expression that suggested she already knew exactly who had sent that message.
“And how is Ethan?” she asked.
“He’s great.”
“Good.” Grams took a sip of her tea and set the cup down with a satisfied nod. “I like him.”
Allie wrapped her hands around her own mug and let the warmth seep into her fingers. Grams was home. The case was behind her, at least for now. And somewhere in Pickens, Ethan was planning dinner for the weekend.
She looked across the table at her grandmother, who had turned her attention to the stack of mail Allie had collected while she was away, sorting it into piles with her usual efficiency. The ordinariness of it, the sheer beautiful normalcy, made Allie's throat tighten with gratitude.
Grams was back, and the world felt right again.
THE END