She turned to see him, funny as ever, his glasses halfway down his nose. “Max! Max!!” she called out so happily. She touched his hair, partly to push the cold ice from it. This time, he didn’t flinch, he smiled as she tousled his hair.

“Tess! Tess . . .” he said to her. She’d recognize his voice anywhere, that voice that cracked sometimes as it was becoming deeper. “Where are we, Tess? What’s happened to us? I’m so cold. . . . And I appear to be riding on a horse,” said Max stating the obvious which was so like Max, Tess started laughing.

Mr. Cortland appeared, hopping down from the seat of his carriage which was still on the corner waiting for them, stationary, permanently in place, with no horse gently bridled in front of it to lead its way. He stroked Comet’s mane, then lifted Max down. It was Max. Tess knew that it was him. Just him. And then he lifted Tess down onto the sidewalk. Without any prompting, Max held his right hand up as did Tess and they executed a pinkie swear in front of what now looked exactly like THE SANBORN HOUSE, complete with a sign, the boutique hotel that she and Max were staying at with Aunt Evie. It was a genuine pinkie swear that indicated that they proudly always had each other’s backs, as a taxi pulled up at the curb.

Strange, as it was the middle of the night. Probably somebody who’d been out partying. In a flash, the back door opened, and their mother stepped out of the cab onto the sidewalk, followed by their dad, and they all embraced, laughing.

Their mother didn’t say a word of admonishment. She just laughed and said, “I wonder how you knew we were coming?! Did Aunt Evie tell you? We wanted it to be a surprise.”

At which point the front passenger door of the cab opened and Aunt Evie stepped out (as she hadn’t really gone to a pub to meet a friend, she’d gone to meet their parents at the airport). “I did not say a word to them. I promise,” said Aunt Evie.

Their dad looked at them quizzically, taking in the whole scene—Max wrapped in a blanket, Mr. Cortland next to them, as if he was somehow guarding them, the white horse looking as if she had just had the run of her life, and Tess, her hair blown, her cheeks as rosy as if she herself had run a marathon, brave and defiant, as always, smiling so happily, except her lips were a little blue—and because he knew them so well, he said, “And I wonder what you are doing up so late at night?”