“Why are you clutching that box?” Emma asked.
Slade awkwardly tucked the box beneath his arm. “Because I needed to return your things and I didn’t want to lose your engagement ring.” He found it and handed it carefully back to her. “I don’t know many women who would leave a three-carat diamond on the floor of someone’s house on purpose.”
“Rings are replaceable.” Emma smiled gently. “Friends are not.”
“Or sisters.” Slade rummaged in the box again and handed Will the picture of his sister.
Will touched his forehead to Emma’s. Her finger stroked Amy’s picture and then Will’s face. She gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.
Beside Slade, Christine shifted against the railing, as if uncomfortable.
“Becca, you were the first person to show me how to let someone die with dignity and love. None of us, especially Flynn, could have stood vigil at his grandfather’s bedside without your compassionate wisdom.” He handed her the Purple Heart medal her first husband had earned. “I wish I’d known you years ago.” Things might have turned out differently for both himself and his father.
He reached for the baseball cap. “Flynn, I know you don’t have to hide beneath this hat anymore trying to prove you don’t look like your dad. I know you wear it to be closer to your grandfather.” He handed the cap to his friend. “I hope you won’t give me too much of a bad time when I show up to a business meeting wearing a tie. Some protocols still need to be honored.” But Slade was done wearing one seven days a week. He finally felt as if he was free.
The handcuffs clanked together as Slade pulled them from the box. “Nate, given the emotional significance of everyone else’s items, I don’t want to know the truth behind these.”
Everyone but Christine laughed as Slade handed them over. “I assumed you were trying to tell me to unshackle myself from the house.”
“Close enough.” Nate tucked the cuffs into his back pocket.
Christine was fidgeting now, no doubt realizing all the offerings but hers had been returned.
Holding the box with two hands, Slade looked inside. He winced. One hand loosened its grip and reflexively reached for the tie that no longer hung around his neck. He let his hand drop to his side, sliding it into his pocket before taking the box again with two hands.
“I brought back your shoes, Christine. I know you don’t agree with how I spend money on myself or the girls, but life is short. People can be taken away from you, and people can take themselves away.” He kept his gaze on her, hoping. “I realize now that my Dad died years before he committed suicide. Mental illness stole him from me. I know that I can’t buy back those years or my innocence, no matter how much money I make. In the future, I want to spend more on making people happy than on the status and image that come with success.”
He glanced down and saw she was wearing a cheap pair of flip-flops. “But, Christine, if you love high-quality shoes and they make you happy, you should wear them more often.”
He knelt at her feet and placed his fingers lightly on her ankle. He could feel her pulse pound rapidly. He gave her a smile, equal parts gentle challenge and acceptance. He was ready to love her. “What do you say? How about you wear this fine example of Italian workmanship?”
When she didn’t move, he tried again. “I gave up my Italian ties. One of us has to represent.” He lifted her foot up ever so slowly, nearly passing out with relief that she let him. And then he replaced her plastic flip-flop with Italian craftsmanship, first on one foot and then the other. He deposited her plastic sandals carefully in the box as if they were more expensive than the leather on her feet and set the box aside.