Just so he can spend time with his old grandmother, drink tea, talk about his college business.
I hear the gate slam, and I know it’s him. Reed has a peculiar gait—light, but a little clumsy—as if he’s not used to his tall stature yet. He inherited it from his grandfather.
“Grandmother Edith,” his voice comes from the doorway. “I smell a specialty pie.”
“Sure you do,” I say, smiling, wiping my hands on my apron. “Come on in. It’s just about the right temperature.”
Reed leans over to hug me. Now I have to tilt my head back to see his face. It’s weird. When did he get so big?
“How’s school going?” I ask, sitting him down at the kitchen table.
“Still struggling with higher math. I got an A on my last exam,” Reed says proudly, eating his pie. “Professor Duval even asked me to work on a research project.”
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