“I actually had to cover my mouth when I saw the master bathroom to keep from laughing out loud,” she said, wiping her eyes. “But it was so, so hideous. Emerald walls with burgundy trim.”
“Stop,” Boone protested, but he was laughing, too.
“Serious.”
“Can we paint it?”
“I don’t know. The seller thinks it’s pretty sweet.”
“I bet. And no one has convinced this brilliant individual that perhaps the color scheme is hurting his ability to sell?”
“The thing is, the house looks great from the street. It’s got the curb appeal. Big iron gates. Completely secure yard. And a gated pool.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said gruffly.
“There’s room for a dog—”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
“The kids really want one.”
“In a rental house?”
“I know you weren’t raised with dogs, Boone, but I think it’d be good for Brennan. He’s . . . struggling . . . I think a dog could be really good for him.”
“We’ll see.”
She knew what that meant, and she let it go for now, but in her mind the topic wasn’t closed. Puppies were a lot of work, but they were also full of love. Unconditional love. Maybe a puppy was exactly what they needed.
“So, when do we move in?” Boone asked, changing the subject.
“Hoping to sign the contract and hand over a check tomorrow. Then it’s ours. Which is good, because the moving truck comes Wednesday.”
“Wish I could be there, babe.”
“I know, but Dad and Tommy, Cass and Kit”—she took a breath—“and Jude . . . they’ll all be here Wednesday night helping unpack. They’ve all agreed to return on Thursday, too, and finish helping me get the job done so things will be settled when you get home.”
“That’s cool.”
“I know. It’s the first time I’ve ever had the Brennan bunch to help me unpack. Pretty nice.”
“We’ll have to take them to dinner—”
“We are.”
He laughed. “And when is that?”
“Father’s Day. After the game.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“But they’re all coming to the game, Sunday, at the Coliseum.” She hesitated. “Can you get tickets for all of us? There will be a lot of us. Thirteen with the kids.”
“Not a problem. I’ll get everyone on the pass list. And it’ll be good to see them all. I look forward to having the family together.”
“I know. It’s just weird it’s not at a funeral.”
Boone laughed. “Miss you, babe.”
“Miss you, too, Boone.”
* * *
Lauren didn’t work Wednesday morning, having taken herself off the schedule until noon.
She still woke up early Wednesday though, driving to Napa as the sun rose, turning the landscape into silver and gold.
She reached the cemetery just as the groundskeeper unlocked the front gate.
Lauren left her car to enter the quiet cemetery.
She hadn’t told anyone she was coming to Napa today.
It was better not to tell anyone.
Better to do this her way.
Walking along the gravel path, Lauren could almost pretend she was in a park, with its manicured lawns and hedges and flowerbeds. But then she was moving between tombstones and headstones and the plastic flowers dotting different graves and it wasn’t a park anymore, but something terribly still and sad.
She stopped just before she reached Blake’s headstone, suddenly unable to take another step closer, not sure she could do this. Not sure . . .
And then she was sure.
Sure she needed him.
Sure she missed him.
A year. It’d been a year today since he’d died.
Crouching before his gray headstone, she put her hands flat on the cold granite, covering his name, warming the stone.
Mama’s here.
I came.
Miss you, baby. Miss you bad.
She leaned forward, kissed the stone. Kissed it again.
A year, baby. A lifetime since you left. Hope you’re okay. Hope you’re happy. Hope there’s no pain.
Blinking hard, she carefully traced each letter of his name.
JONATHAN BLAKE SUMMER.
I miss you. I miss you so much. You have no idea how much I miss you and your hugs and your stinky shoes and the way you left your clothes all over the place . . .
As she talked to him, Lauren traced his name again and again, as if she could somehow draw him into her, or pass her love through her fingertips and into the stone, reaching him somehow. Because love didn’t die. Love didn’t end. Love was there in the beginning, and love was there at death. Love was what tied them all together . . .
It wasn’t until Lauren was on the way home a half hour later that she realized she’d forgotten to take Blake flowers.