Page 27 of When Love Is Lost and Found

"Yeah, he traveled for business once or twice a month. Why?"

"Do you know if he had life insurance? A will?"

"Yes. He had both."

"Good," he says. "When you do that much traveling, you want to make sure your family is cared for should something happen to you."

"Well," she begins, "What happened to him happened at home." Her eyes immediately well up with tears.

"I'm so sorry. Please don't cry."

"I'm okay," she says. "Anyway, Dad put a stipulation in both. I must be twenty-one to claim my inheritance and the insurance proceeds."

"I thought maybe that's what you deposited at the bank."

"No," she hesitates before continuing, "That was Jimmy's life insurance."

I can see the pain in her eyes, making me regret bringing up the subject.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm eighteen," she says, looking down at her engagement ring and twisting it around her finger. "Jimmy and I were waiting for me to turn eighteen so we could get married, but by then, he was already gone."

"I'm so sorry," I say.

"It's getting late," she says, standing up. "I'm still a little jet-lagged, so I think I'll turn in early."

"Okay," I say. "I'll walk you back."

When we reach the back door, she turns to me and smiles. Her green eyes are glistening with unshed tears. I want to hold and comfort her, but I settle for a good night.

"See you in the morning," I say before I walk away. Halfway across the lawn, I glance back at the door, but she's already gone inside.

***

When I reach Loren's backyard, I can see the lights are still on inside her house, so I knock on her back door.

"Come in, Jon. Come in."

"You're still awake?"

"I was hoping you would stop by before I went to bed."

"Did you need something?"

"No," she says, "I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. Would you like a cup of tea?"

I don't drink tea, but I never say no if Loren offers me a cup.

"I'd love a cup. Thank you."

I sit down, and we wait for the water to boil.

"I'll get it," I say when the tea kettle whistles.

After I pour the water over each tea bag nestled in our cups, I sit across from her again and wait, knowing precisely what's coming.

"Jon," she begins. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the young woman in your parent's home is the same young woman whose fiancé died in that tragic accident you were involved in."

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