Page 29 of Winter Sun

“Gosh, how long has it been since we lost Calvin?” Henry asked.

“It’s been twenty-five years,” Agatha said wistfully.

“That long?”

“It’s hard to believe,” Agatha agreed. “But you know how Calvin was. That personality shone a light over everything. He still lives in everything I do. And I swear I can still hear his voice, echoing through our house.”

“I think that laugh is responsible for taking out one of my eardrums,” Henry said, pointing at his right ear. “That Calvin! A wild man. One of a kind.”

Katrina’s heart thumped. This was the way older people spoke about the past, as though it had all been lined with gold.

Grant disappeared to grab them two slices of cake—carrot for Katrina and chocolate for himself. Katrina and Grant sat together and listened to the rhythm of Agatha’s conversation as she easily fell into the fold. Everyone was pleased to see her. Everyone was happy to agree that Calvin Whittaker had been the greatest man to ever live. Agatha was over the moon.

Halfway through coffee and cake hour, Grant squeezed Katrina’s thigh and whispered, “Why don’t we leave your mother to her devices? We can come back tomorrow.”

Katrina was grateful he’d made that decision for her. She’d felt trapped, wanting to make sure her mother was okay.

Katrina and Grant kissed Agatha goodbye and waved as they exited the room. Moments after they turned the corner, Katrina heard her mother.

“Isn’t she gorgeous? She’s my pride and joy. Married a Coleman, you know,” Agatha said.

Katrina had never heard her mother speak of her like this. She stalled and pressed her hand across her chest.

It was just Agatha’s way, she knew. She never gave compliments to Katrina’s face, but her love was always there.

It just wasn’t always easy to feel it.

Back at home, Grant urged Katrina to rest. “I have a surprise for us later,” he said. “Be dressed and ready to go by seven-thirty.”

Katrina’s heart jumped. “That’s vague! What on earth should I wear?”

“Something nice, of course,” Grant said, wrapping one of her curls around his finger. “I’ll be wearing a suit.”

Katrina’s eyes filled with tears. Through the stress of securing her mother’s spot at the nursing home and boxing everything up at the Whittaker House, she’d hardly considered Valentine’s Day at all. Grant was thoughtful like that. He picked up the slack.

Katrina decided on a dark red dress with a tight-fitting bodice and a long skirt with a slit up the side. She did her makeup with expert precision, remembering what her mother had taught her as a teenager.

Absently, she wondered if her father had ever remembered to take Agatha out for Valentine’s Day. It stood to reason he’d been too drunk. Katrina’s heart felt bruised at the thought. Twenty-five years after his death, Agatha continued to sing his praises. She’d given him a tremendous love that he might not have deserved.

Katrina appeared downstairs right on time. Grant was in his suit, cologne a small wave around him, and his hair was styled with gel. He took one look at her and placed his hand over his chest.

“I don’t know what I did right in this life to have you,” he said, kissing her gently on the cheek so as not to mess up her makeup. “And I don’t know if I deserve you. But I’m so glad I married you.”

Grant drove them out to the Italian restaurant located alongside the bluffs. A sharp draft of wind rushed through theircoats as they clambered up the walkway, but the orange lights in the windows beckoned, drawing them toward smells of oregano, garlic, and tomato. Katrina nestled herself against Grant until they entered the warmth of the restaurant, where a hostess took their coats and led them to a two-top with a flickering candle and a one-page menu.

“The menu changes every weekend,” Grant explained. “But today, they have an exclusive Valentine’s Day menu.”

They ordered Primitivo for the table, plus antipasto, burrata, ravioli, gnocchi, and a chocolate soufflé. Between courses, they held hands over the table and alternated between telling funny stories, speaking wistfully of the past, and making plans for the future. Katrina thought it was finally time to go on a wine tour of California. Grant said he wanted to go on a sailing expedition together. After their first glass of wine, they decided to do both.

“What the heck! We’re retired. We can do whatever we want,” Grant said.

Katrina folded her lips. For the millionth time that month, she remembered the baby.

“What’s up?” Grant asked, taking a sip of wine.

“I have to tell you something,” Katrina breathed.

“Okay.” Grant’s eyes echoed his confusion.

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