Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
One Year Later . . .
Saturday
Before her eyes are even open, Grace smells it.
The warm, comforting scent of vanilla and yellow batter, strong and enticing enough to tug her from her dream.
She blinks herself fully awake, stretches, and pulls her body upright in the bed.
The plush comforter still wrapped around her limbs, she straightens, presses her back against the upholstered headboard, and looks through the window.
Outside, the sun shines with all the strength of August. A pod of children creates chalk drawings on the sidewalk.
A woman walks a dog. A pleasantly predictable morning in their sleepy Pennsylvania neighborhood.
There’s a quiet knock on the bedroom door, then a pause before it creaks open.
“Breakfast is ready.” Jenny pops her face around the doorframe. “I should warn you, Charlie dumped half a container of rainbow sprinkles into the batter.” She laughs. “I guess it’s his version of a cake, since we won’t see you on your actual birthday in a few days.”
Grace rubs her face, smiles. “I’m sure they’re delicious.”
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Jenny steps into the room, dressed in a pair of running shorts and sneakers, like she’s already lived a whole life this morning. “You slept in,” she says, not in a judgmental way, but just as a fact. “Late night?”
“A little.” Grace leans over to look inside the bassinet that sits comfortably beside the bed.
“He was a bit fussy,” she says, just as the baby starts to stir.
“I probably should have set an alarm and gotten on the road by now.” She smiles down at her son as he opens his eyes.
“I’ll pay for it, sitting in bridge traffic this afternoon. ”
“It’ll be worth it.” Jenny peers lovingly at the baby, gently touches his wisps of soft blond hair. “You both need your rest.”
Downstairs, the sounds of children playing, shouting, and laughing fill the house with a happy mayhem that Grace has been grateful to be part of these last six months.
“Eric plans to put the crib together while you’re away.” Jenny moves back toward the hallway. “When you get back, he’ll put the bassinet back up in the attic after you’re done using it this week.”
“Thank you,” Grace says, her heart so full of appreciation for her friend. For this life. For everything.
“Speaking of which, is Adam still planning to come again next Sunday?”
Grace nods. “That’s the plan,” she says. “He doesn’t like to go more than two weeks without seeing the little guy. Plus, he mentioned that he picked up a bunch of fall clothes—a little jacket and stuff—that he wants to make sure to give me before the seasons turn.”
“Great,” Jenny says and smiles, pleased by this news.
For a moment, they’re quiet, a whole story passing between them. Nearby, the baby softly coos.
“Oh, one other thing before I forget,” Jenny states.
“Those town houses, the new ones up the street. I saw on my run earlier that they’re finally done with construction on the development.
They had a sign posted that they’re going to start renting them out later this fall.
” She leans against the wood trim. “Would you like me to call and make an appointment so we can go see them together after Labor Day?”
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“Sure.” Grace lifts her son and places him on her shoulder, his head warm and perfect against her neck. “That’d be great.”
“No rush, though,” Jenny insists, just as a clatter breaks out below them. She smiles, her expression warm and bright and comforting. “You two are more than welcome to stay here with us for as long as you both need.”