Page 29 of The Best of Times

She grabbed the suit and scuttled out of the room.

Alone, he wandered past the shelves of keepsakes. He gasped when he saw a beautiful shell that he and his grandpa had found in Cornwall. They had taken all the grandchildren for a week by the sea. Aron had been obsessed with shells and wanted to make a collage. He and Grandpa had combed the place for suitable material.

“Imagine her keeping that,” he said to himself.

His grandfather had been a loving man. Aron had moved in for a few years before he went to university. They had shared a love of the outdoors and old movies. However, it had been the Professor who’d unlocked Aron’s love of literature. They had spent hours discussing Dickens as well as other writers.

I wonder if Grandpa was ever jealous of that.

The Wimpoles and the Higgs had been friends for many years. Aron had no doubt that his grandfather would have given this marriage his blessing. He’d never been able to control Granny. He would probably get a kick out of someone else attempting it.

Not that the Professor would even think about doing something like that. Aron suspected the Prof would celebrate his new bride. Well, he hoped so or he’d have trouble from most of the neighbourhood.

Aron stopped at the window and stared down at the street that had featured so heavily in his life so far. It was deserted today yet memories flickered in Aron’s mind. Playing in the gardens with his siblings. The time that Granny arranged for aFather Christmas to ride a sleigh through the crescent, throwing presents to the children. And of course, having to move in.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Not all the memories were good ones. Yet, somehow his grandparents had helped him find joy in almost every situation. Granny had set her heart on helping him accept himself for who he was. So had Grandpa. It had been the lifeline he had so badly needed.

“What do you think?”

He spun round. His grandmother stood in the doorway. The ivory suit fitted her perfectly.

“Oh, Granny.”

“I won’t wear this blouse obviously. I’ve got something far more expensive.”

Aron crossed the room to get a better vantage point. He tugged at one of the sleeves.

“He’s even allowed for your cast.”

“And so he should. It’s partially his fault I have it.”

Aron frowned. They hadn’t properly discussed her attempt at amateur sleuthing. He certainly didn’t like the fact it had ended in a hospital visit. Even if the Professor had finally proposed as an outcome. She needed to be more careful. He couldn’t bear to think of anything awful happening to her.

Either way, he wasn’t going to rain on her parade on that particular day. Judging by the expression on Jean-Paul’s face earlier, they were treading a thin line. He had no intention of finding himself on the wrong side of it.

“He’s made up for it. You’ll make a stunning bride.”

“Thank you, darling. I have to say, I feel it.”

The doorbell rang. Anxiety instantly claimed Aron’s system.

“It’s only your father,” Granny said, squeezing his arm. “He loves you. Remember that.”

Aron shrugged. “I know. It’s just…”

“I understand. Go on, let him in. I’ll be down soon. We’re receiving him in the sunroom. There are pastries in the fridge and the coffee pot is on.”

Aron frowned. “You’ve baked?”

“Of course not. Guy from the bakers dropped it off while you were out. We have croissant, pain au chocolat and some mini quiches. I know they’re not strictly elevenses fayre but they looked far too good to pass up.”

Another burst of love for this woman hit him.

“I’ve missed you.”

The doorbell sounded out again.

“Off with you.”