“I’ve unpacked your rooms. I’ve also gone through your things. This weekend, I’d like you to go through the piles I’ve made of stuff you might no longer be able to use or want. If you can’t use it or don’t want it, it can be put to good use elsewhere. But if you want it, I want you to have it. So just sort that for me, putting away what you want to keep, putting what you don’t in one of the extra rooms, and I’ll deal with it for you. And Pippa,” I called. Her eyes came to me and I smiled at my baby girl. “I have a surprise for you in your room. I hope you like it.”

She said nothing.

I had nothing more to say.

My children and I stood, fifteen feet between us, thousands of miles separating us, and we did this silently.

Finally, Auden spoke, “Are you done?”

His words and tone cut deep and I felt the bleed.

“Yes,” I replied. “Except to say, I made cinnamon oatmeal cookies. They’re in the tin on the counter. You can help yourself.”

Auden ignored that, even though those were particular favorites of his, and instead told me, “We both got plans.”

I licked my lips and pressed them together as I nodded.

“So, if you’re done with this, can we do that?” he asked nastily.

“As I said, honey, you can. But I want you home for dinner tomorrow night,” I told him.

“Whatever,” he muttered, starting to turn, Pippa moving with him.

“Not whatever,” I called and did it firmly, getting their attention again. “I mean that, kids. I want you home tomorrow night for dinner.”

“We gotta, we’ll be here,” Auden snapped.

It wasn’t much, but I’d take it.

I looked to Pippa.

“Sweets?” I asked.

“Gotta do it, I’ll do it,” she mumbled.

That was the same, I’d still take it.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Pippa looked to her brother and rolled her eyes.

Auden looked to his sister and shook his head.

They both then delayed no further and disappeared down the hall.

Not long after, they reappeared.

But only so they could leave.

* * * * *

The next night, I made dinner, one of their favorites, prime roast of beef with my fresh-made horseradish sauce, scalloped potatoes, haricots verts and homemade rolls. I topped all this with one of Olympia’s favorites, my decadently moist carrot cake with its thick cream cheese frosting.

I had plenty of time to do this considering both my children left very early for a teenage Saturday and didn’t reappear until they arrived, precisely timed, thus meticulously planned, so neither of them had to be with me alone, at six o’clock.

Since I hadn’t yet replaced the dining room table, we ate off my new dishes, sitting on the sectional.