Laura nodded, bit into the soft, rich chocolate and pressed play again. She and her grandmother had often watched TV together, especially on weekends. They were special times. Her sisters were out or away, her parents visiting friends and, not being one to watch movies, Pa would go off to bed. That’s when Granny would bring out her lolly stash. There’d been a better selection on TV back then or if there wasn’t, they’d hire a video and then, when she turned thirteen the family got their first DVD player. The two of them had watched so many movies together through all those changes.

Laura glanced at Granny, who was intent on the screen. She knew they’d discuss the movie once it was finished and even again over breakfast. If it was a musical, Granny would hum the tunes for a week or so after, and she’d catch Laura’s eye and they’d laugh.

She reached out and squeezed Granny’s hand. “Thanks for the chocolate.”

Olive smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Six

Two days later Natalie pulled up outside her back gate. She paused for a moment to take in the house and let out a sigh. She was glad to be home. Not all the pieces of her life were back together. She and Milt had finally cleared up the Jack issue but there were others to be worked out. And some of the pieces had fitted back in different ways, like her renewed acquaintance with Veronica. She wouldn’t use the word friend just yet, but they’d made a start.

Bubbles looked up briefly from his chair as Natalie approached the back door.

“So glad to see you too,” she said as he nestled back into the cushion. She couldn’t blame him; it was a freezing cold day.

Her arms were loaded with bags and she cringed and held her breath as she shouldered the wooden door, but there was no bang. She hooked the door with her foot and it swung away from the wall to reveal a rubber stopper. She continued on up the passage, feeling the old house wrap around her in welcome. She placed her bags against the wall, making her first stop the bathroom.

When she came out she heard a thud from the kitchen. Someone was home. She opened the door. Milt was on his hands and knees by the desk with a tape measure stretched out beside him.

“Hello.”

He sat back abruptly, bumped his head on the desk. “Hell’s teeth!”

“What are you doing?” she asked as he lumbered to his feet, rubbing at his head.

“Measuring up for a new desk.”

“What’s wrong with the old one?”

“Not big enough, Bree says.” He held his arms out. “Welcome home, Nat.”