Ben stayed in bed long after he woke. The light was blue and gray and gold behind his closed eyes. Yesterday had drained him completely, and he was glad Sam had foreseen such an emotional investment in visiting the graves and taking care of the house.
Ideas bounced around in Ben’s mind, almost as fast as pinballs ricocheting from one side of his skull to the other. When the smell of coffee met his nose, he threw off the blankets and headed into the kitchen.
Sam stood at the sink, a mug in his hand. “I’m meetin’ the caretaker for lunch. You’re welcome to come.”
Ben poured himself a cup of coffee and dumped an obscene amount of sugar in it. “What if I move here?” he said. “I can take care of the house until you can come.”
Sam turned from his position at the window, his face molded with p
