Across the fence, Brent was no longer smiling.
He gripped the deck railing and watched the families moving through the garden.
Then one final vehicle appeared.
A silver minivan pulled onto the shoulder.
An elderly woman stepped out wearing a faded tan raincoat. Her gray hair was clipped back, and she carried two worn grocery bags.
She seemed nervous.
Almost ashamed.
She walked slowly toward the garden, keeping her eyes lowered.
Then she looked up.
Her gaze reached the deck.
She stopped so abruptly that one of her bags fell onto the gravel.
Brent froze.
For several seconds, they stared at one another.
Then Brent abandoned his coffee, hurried through his house, and appeared outside.
Still barefoot and wearing his bathrobe, he crossed the lawn, stepped over the fence, and rushed toward the woman.
“Mom?”
The elderly woman’s expression collapsed.
“Brent?”
He looked stunned.
“What are you doing here?”
