“Good evening.” A tall blonde man stands in the open doorway of the MacIntyre home in a black peacoat. “I have something that belongs to you.”
Heather pulls her sweater close to her, shivering in the cold air. Her eyes are wide.
“Hi, Mom.” Leila’s head peeks around Eric Pederssen. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Get in here, you two. It’s freezing out there. You better have a good excuse, missy.” Heather rushes ahead of them to the living room. “Look what the wind blew in,” she says to Art and Bessie curled up with hot chocolates, watching television.
“Hi, Dad,” Leila chirps. “You’ll never guess what happened.”
Art grumbles, “No, I guess I won’t. What the hell happened?”
Heather returns from the kitchen with two more mugs of cocoa. “Sit, Eric. So …?”
Leila takes a seat beside Bessie on the sofa.
