This is a good house. Certainly worth much, much more than Walter would have paid for it in 1973. The property itself is a gold mine, backing onto the river the way it does. And while most of the neighbours had long ago torn down the original wooden houses in order to build enormous new brick ones, the original Parker house still stood, proud and wooden and flawed and beautiful, against that growing backdrop of McMansions. Much like the Parkers themselves, Katriina allows. It has become easier to love her extended family, to see the charm in their boisterousness, in their eccentricity, now that she knows she will no longer have to deal with them.

She walks from the kitchen to the living room, expecting to see a herd of children parked in front of the television, but the room is empty and the back door is wide open. The kids must be out in the yard. A minor league baseball game is playing on the local channel. As she sits down on the couch, she wonders if she will ever come back to this house, if she will ever sit here again.

“Katriina?”

She turns to the open door and finds Shawn standing there, a beer in his hand. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Her breath catches in her throat. “I came to get Tommy and Petey.”

“They’re outside with Hamish and Ross and the girls. They’re building some kind of waterslide using garbage bags.”

“Oh.” They are both quiet. It has only been a few hours since she last saw him, but it might as well have been years. Everything feels strange, awkward. “I thought you were going to Duluth,” she says finally.

“You heard that, huh.” He leans against the doorway and tilts the beer bottle back and forth, watching the liquid move up one side, then the other. “I told Nicki I couldn’t go.”

“Why?” Katriina asks, surprised.

Shawn shrugs, still focused on the bottle. “There was stuff I needed to take care of here.”

“Oh,” she says again. It’s too late, though, Shawn, she thinks. It’s too late, it’s too late. She folds her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to scratch at her arms. She wasn’t prepared for this – she just needs to get her thoughts under control. On the television screen the pitcher stands at the mound, warming up, and she wishes that something would happen, that someone would make a big play, that there was something there to distract her other than just a man swinging his arm around.

Eventually Shawn says, “I can go get the boys, if you want to take them to your place.”