Finding Home. Marie Ferrarella

Finding Home - Marie Ferrarella


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didn’t want to argue about this, too. Especially since she knew how it would turn out. Why waste the time? “I’m sure.”

      Off the hook, Brad still didn’t like the idea of her flying alone. “Maybe Jim could go with you—”

      She looked at him sharply. “Jim’s busy setting up his new life. I’m perfectly capable of flying on my own.” She blew out a breath, the impact of the news hitting her all over again. “God, I can’t believe that Uncle Titus is really gone.”

      Brad nodded as he absently checked his pockets for his car keys. “I thought your uncle would go on forever.” Their eyes met for a moment. “Outlive us all.”

      “Yes,” she said quietly, waiting for the ache to set in, the one that always came when she lost a loved one, “me, too.”

      There was an awkwardness in the air. Brad felt he should say something more. He had no idea what. “He never married, did he?”

      “Not officially, at least, not that I know of,” she amended, then smiled. “He was too much into ‘free love.’ Thought that monogamy was a waste of time, although he was pretty faithful to his ‘lady of the moment’ as he used to call them. When I was little, my parents used to have him over for the holidays because they kind of felt sorry for him.” There was irony for you, she thought. Titus was always smiling. Her parents never were. “I think he enjoyed life a lot more than they did in the long run.”

      “At least he got to do it for longer.” Brad glanced at his watch. “Oh, hey, look at the time. I should have already been halfway to the hospital. I need to make my rounds before I go to the office,” he told her, striding toward the threshold.

      He was halfway to the front door before he stopped and turned around. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he caught her off guard.

      “Did you forget something?” she asked.

      In response, he took her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I really am sorry about Titus.”

      He could have knocked her over with a feather. Stacey smiled up at him. She doubted that he realized it, but that was worth far more to her than the two hundred dollars he had left on the counter.

      “Thanks,” she murmured.

      Brad released her. “I’ve got to rush.”

      She followed him to the door. “That really meant a lot to me.”

      Brad nodded as he left the house. But he really didn’t understand why Stacey had said that.

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