Star's Crossing

61: Possibility, Endless

Teddy knocked softly, hat in hand. 

As he awaited answer he turned and observed the drive, snow-laden and still as the sea after storm. He was reminded of her and at last the taste of her name did not fill him with sorrow. Instead he smiled, watching his breath as it fell from his lips.

"Mr. Bridge! Oh, do come in, you'll freeze to death!" Mrs. Atwood shooed him inside, gesturing him into the parlor soon as Jenelle had divested him of hat and coat. "My, what a surprise! It seems an age has passed since you were back in town. We do miss you terribly."

Teddy laughed as Mrs. Atwood busied herself pouring tea. She added two lumps of sugar, just as he liked it, and a spoonful of cream. The Iliad lay open on her settee and he gestured as she poured herself a cup. "Is Mr. Atwood at home, then?"

"Ah, no, alas." She dusted her skirts and sat, eyes bright. "He's in California with Matilde until Christmas. The snow has been ever so determined this winter, however, and I worry he won't make it in time." She patted the cover of the book with fondness. "When I read it I all but hear it in his voice. I suspect you know the feeling rather well, Mr. Bridge."

"Teddy," he corrected gently, smiling over his tea.

His gaze drifted to the portraits above the mantle, where a summer portrait of Mare smiled with secrecy enough to shame the Mona Lisa. She looked taller, her gaze sharper, her lips tipped in a way that seemed both mysterious and inviting. It was the same portrait he'd seen in The Star's Crossing Gazette on his last visit, above a notice of her book's forthcoming publishing.

"Lovely, isn't she?" Mrs. Atwood sighed at the portrait. "All of my girls, grown and gone. I do so terribly miss them."

"She has travelled to Calgary most recently, if I am not mistaken?" Teddy traced the rim of his teacup and looked out the back window. "Your fence has not been mended? Mrs. Atwood, I'd have offered to—"

"Oh, it's no business of yours, Mr. Bridge." She rose and poured more tea, waving away his offer as she often did before relenting. "It's just that Mr. Atwood has been terribly busy. I've tacked it to his ever-growing list of tasks for his return, but I've a mind to mend it myself—"

"And don't think she won't." Jenelle entered and draped a shawl over Mrs. Atwood's shoulders. "Just yesterday I came upon her cutting wood for the shed. Three hours before her color returned."

"Oh, you dramatize." But Mrs. Atwood sank gratefully back into her chair, allowing Jenelle to tend the fire and take away the tea tray to be refreshed. "She does coddle me, doesn't she?"

Teddy grinned. "I'll see to the chores before I'm off. That is, if you believe it wouldn't..."

"Trouble Mare? I'm certain she'd be touched you pop by to look after us. It is hardly necessary, of course. And you've got a paper to look after as well! Fancy this. A young, up-and-coming city editor, deigning to chop wood for an old neighbor."

Teddy's heart warmed. "It does me good. I miss it, more often than not. I love Philadelphia, and the visits to New York have been wondrous. But Star's Crossing is home."

"And how are those pesky boys of yours, hm?" Mrs. Atwood lifted her brows impetuously. "Behaving, I hope."

"Camden is enjoying the solitude of his business." Teddy, with his share in Matilde and Antony's company, had delegated much of the hands-on work to his wary, black-eyed cousin. "I daresay he is unfit for company these days. But each visit he seems in better spirits. His bitterness is cut by the absence of his father, as is mine."

"Parenting." Mrs. Atwood sighed and looked forlornly out the window. "It can be impossible and it can be a blessing. How is your family?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Well enough. My mother says father has found honest work; they were allowed to maintain the estate though I've not been back. Mother visits me in Philadelphia most weekends."