Pickard Street seems deserted as I turn the corner to Bret Hicks’s house fifteen minutes later.
I walk up to the front door and knock. Memories from the past few years flash in my mind.
I look across the yard to my former house. I am suddenly reminded of my past life with Russ, and the new beginning with Philip. Movement from behind the Hick’s front door jars me out of my trance, and a friendly face pokes out from behind the lace curtains.
Janice Hicks.
When she opens the door, she says, happiness in her voice, “Christian. This is a surprise. Come in. Get out of the cold.”
“Is it a good time?”
She smiles weakly. “It’s a pleasant surprise.”
“I was in the neighborhood,” I say, remembering my promise to Bret.
“We’re just about to eat. Would you like stay for dinner?”
“No thanks,” I a
