“Aunt Diane had a restless night, I’m afraid. She’s resting in her cabin.” Colin took a sip of his coffee. “I checked on her before coming down. She’s fine, just tired. I’ll take breakfast to her.”
“I’d like to visit her,” Mary said, making the offer sound casual rather than investigative. “I’m finished with my breakfast.” She turned to Bert and placed her hand on his arm. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?”
“Of course not,” Bert said easily, also smiling.
Colin’s expression tightened before settling back into pleasant agreeability. “I’m sure she’d enjoy that. Aunt Diane has been quite fond of you, Mary.”
“Perfect.” Mary leaned over and accepted a light kiss from Bert before rolling back from the table.
Once she made it to Diane’s door, she knocked as she called out her identity.
“Oh, Mary. Come on in,” came the reply.
Rolling in, she found Diane propped up in bed, pillows arranged behind her, wearing an elegant dressing gown. She looked pale but alert, her silver hair perfectly styled despite the claim that she’d just woken. Her phone was in her hand.
“Mary, how lovely!” Diane’s smile was warm and genuine. “Colin texted to say you were coming to visit. I’m sorry I missed breakfast.”
“Don’t apologize. We all need extra rest sometimes.” Mary rolled closer to the bed, positioning herself where she could see Diane clearly. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better now that I’ve had some sleep. I was restless last night—couldn’t settle, my mind just wouldn’t stop racing.” Diane gestured to the table beside the bed. “Colin said he would bring breakfast, and we can share some tea when he comes.”
Mary nodded, wheeling closer.
“I’m glad you came,” Diane said quietly. “I love my nephew, but sometimes he… hovers.” She laughed, seeming to force gaiety into her tone, waving her ring-clad fingers around. “Sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” Mary prompted gently.
“Sometimes us women just need a little time alone, don’t we?” Diane’s hands twisted in the blanket. “That sounds ungrateful, doesn’t it? After everything he’s done, taking time away from his life to travel with me, handling all the complicated financial matters I can’t seem to keep straight anymore.”
“It doesn’t sound ungrateful,” Mary said carefully. “It sounds like you still want as much independence as possible.”
“Yes. The lack of full mobility is challenging. Both to manage and then to maintain some control.” Diane was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant as she nodded. Then she seemed to shake herself, her social mask sliding back into place. “Goodness, I’m maudlin this morning. Tell me about you and Bert. You two are so lovely together. It reminds me of Robert and myself.”
Mary recognized the deflection for what it was. Diane was pulling back from too many emotions rising all at once. So Mary played along, sharing how she and Bert had met in Montana, and how their friendship had gradually become something more.
“He learned to dance with you,” Diane said, her eyes warm. “That’s not something just anyone would do, Mary. That’s love.”
“It is,” Mary agreed. “He sees past my wheelchair to me. Makes adaptations feel natural rather than accommodations I should be grateful for.”
“That’s rare.” Diane’s expression turned wistful. “My late husband was like that. Robert never made my arthritis feel like a burden, even when it progressed to the point where I needed a wheelchair. He just adapted, made things work, loved me exactly as I was.”
“You miss him.”
“Every day.” Diane smiled sadly. “Colin reminds me of him sometimes. They had the same determined way of solving problems, the same protective instincts. Robert and I had no children, as you know. But my sister, Catherine, also found love, but they only had Colin. Though I’ve always thought of him as mine too, of course. Family is family.” Diane reached for her purse on the nightstand, rummaging through it. “I have a picture here somewhere from Colin’s college graduation. Robert was so proud of him that day. Let me show you. Ah, here it is.”
She pulled out a slender leather-bound photograph book, slightly faded with age, and handed it to Mary. “I never got used to storing photographs on my phone. Oh, here is my Robert.”
Mary smiled at the photograph of a much younger Diane and the handsome man next to her. “You were a lovely couple,” she murmured truthfully.
“And here we all were many years ago. We’re with Catherine, her husband, and Colin.”
As she smiled again, she noted that Colin’s father was also tall and dark-haired. Catherine had a wide grin as she held the hand of a young, dark-haired boy.
“Now, this one was when Colin was in school. That’s Colin and some of his university friends. They all graduated together. Such bright, handsome, young men with their whole futures ahead of them.”
Mary looked at the photograph. Five young men in caps and gowns stood in a line, arms around each other’s shoulders, all grinning at the camera with the kind of joy and confidence that came from being young and full of possibility. The photo was taken outside with the university’s distinctive brick buildings visible in the background. “The one to his left was his roommate and best friend. They were so close. They even got jobs at the same company and shared an apartment for a long time.”
Mary’s attention snagged, and her pulse spiked as she looked at Colin and his roommate. The two men were so similar in appearance. Same height, same lean build, same dark hair, same thin faces and dark eyes. They could have been brothers.