Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. (Especially to you reviewers, to a fic writer, reviews are our payment and our food source.) I had this entire fic outlined and about half written when I started publishing it, so unless my health takes a nosedive again, this whole fic should be wrapped up by the end of the week.

"Man, I'm not used to flying like this," Paige said, trying to stretch her legs in the tiny space between her seat and the one in front of her.

"You said that on the first flight," Walter commented.

She had. But she hadn't thought he'd heard her because he hadn't responded, not with so much as a grunt or a brief glance in her direction. She took a lighthearted approach for her response. "Well, seems like I haven't gotten used to it in the first five hours. Or while waiting for this flight."

"At least for once," Walter said, "we're flying to a place where the world won't be counting on us. And," he gave a small chuckle, "I think lakes can only blow up once."

"Is the lake still there?" Paige asked. She was glad he was talking. He'd been awfully silent so far. Sylvester, while more outwardly distressed at Sean's death, was much chattier, and their randomly assigned seats had put him just across the aisle from them while they were headed to Newark. Unfortunately, for this flight, he was nine rows behind them.

"Yeah," Walter said. "I'm with you. I don't want any more of those problems. I'll have enough to deal with, with Thomas and Connor."

"They didn't learn."

"They'll be bullies until the day they die," Walter said.

"You save their damn lives, and nothing."

"It never lasts," Walter said. "Any headway anyone makes with them ultimately dwindles back down to nothing." His face took on a more solemn expression. Paige touched his hand.

"Don't think about them. They're not worth it."

Paige was surprised at how familiar the road to the O'Brien home was, as well as the unpleasant feeling she got as they approached it. She wondered if something present was bothering her, or if she was just thinking about last time.

The house came into view, and almost immediately, the front door opened and a figure appeared. She was smaller than Paige remembered.

Sylvester breathed a sigh of relief. "She's okay."

Paige frowned. "Were you worried?"

"I mean, the two of them had been together since she was fifteen. That's over forty years, and a sudden death...sometimes the surviving spouse takes a turn for the worse. She assured me she was feeling okay when I called her on the layover, but..."

As soon as they'd exited the vehicle, Louise rushed toward them, moving quickly. She was pale and tired, with circles under her red eyes. When she reached Walter, she rose on her tiptoes, throwing her arms around him and rocking gently from side to side. "My son."

"Hi, mother," Walter said. He was hugging her back. Paige was glad.

"Oh, my boy," she said again, leaning back and taking his face in her hands. "Let me look at you. It's been almost two years now. Quite a long time."

"It was far longer before that," Walter pointed out. Paige nudged him.

"Paige. Darling." Louise held her arms out, and Paige returned the embrace. "I haven't seen you in just as long. Oh, you were with that broad shouldered man then. Quite the chancer, wasn't he?"

Paige raised her eyebrows at Walter in question. He didn't explain to her what his mother meant, but the smirk on his face told her enough.

"And my dear Sylvester," she said fondly.

"Hi, Mom," Sylvester said, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her cheek. "How are you holding up?"

"I am," she said. "I got to."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Paige said, putting a hand on Louise's arm.

"Thank you, darling," Louise said. "But I must say it does feel good to see you all again. I wish you had brought Ralph," she commented. "He's such a good boy."

"He wishes he could come," Paige said. "But he has midterms this week. And he's nursing a cold."

"Poor boy," Louise said. "Examinations and an illness. Shame. I would have liked to see him very much."

Paige pushed down the twinge of annoyance. She knew Louise wasn't trying to make her feel guilty. Walter's mother had never struck her as that type of person.

"Come on in," she said, gesturing toward the house. "The other folks from out of town are staying at the Inn a mile up the road. They say they don't want to be a bother."

"We weren't planning on staying here," Paige said quickly. "I know there are some places in town, we're not here to make things more difficult or..."

"Aw, go way outta that," Louise said. "Of course you'll stay here. I just lost my dear husband. It's good to be with family, and in any case, not every day I get to see my son and son – in – law."

"And Paige," Walter said pointedly.

"Walter, I know what she meant," Paige said gently. She wasn't family. Walter and Sylvester were. Of course she was happier to see them.

"Sylvester, I thought you could stay in Megan's old room. I know she'd like that, and Walter would probably rather have his old one. Did you ever see it, Paige?"

"No," she said. "I haven't."

"It's much the same as it was when he left for America," she said. "His things are all cleaned up, but he's got his blueprints on the wall still, and the desk. We put a double bed in there for when company came over, but other than that, it's just as it was."

"Oh, well that's nice," Paige said.

"Please," Louise said, gesturing to the kitchen table. "Sit. Tobin's daughter made some stew for me. Let me heat it up. You three must be starving."

"If we're going to stay here," Walter said, "I'm going to go to the car and get the bags. It looks like it might rain."

"It's been looking like it's about to rain for a week," Louise said.

"Still." Walter tapped the back of Paige's chair as he scooted by, heading for the front door.

Louise watched as Walter exited the house, then she turned back to Paige and Sylvester, the container of stew clutched between her hands. "You know," she began, hesitating slightly. "It's very emotional for me to see you. Both of ya."

"I know it's a terrible time," Sylvester said. "I wish we had visited under better circumstances."

"Oh Sylvester," she said, smiling at him. "That's very sweet of you, and I do agree. But what I mean is..." She paused. "When Meg and Walter were young, I used to pray. I mean, I still do. We are Catholics. But I used to pray for them. I'd pray that each find someone who was good for them. Good to them. That they'd feel happy and safe with. Every mother does, you know, wish that for their children. And we all have high standards. Immeasurably high. The Mount Everest of standards."

Paige was glad Walter had left the house. He would surely pipe up that Mount Everest had been measured exactly.

Louise had paused again, wetting her lips before continuing. "And..." she shook her head. "You two are beyond my wildest hopes. My family is so blessed. I thank God every day, that Megan had you, Sylvester. And that you and my son found each other, Paige. So, so blessed."

Paige found it incredible that Louise could say that two days after her husband's death and having already lost her daughter. But she supposed she understood. She would rather have Ralph happy for less time than miserable or lonely for longer. She caught Sylvester's eye. He was smiling. A somewhat sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"I didn't specify back there that it wasn't every day I got to see you, darling. Walter called me out. I hadn't met to exclude you."'

Paige waved her hand. "Don't think another moment about it, Mrs. O'Brien."

"No, I should." She reached out and took Paige's hand. "You're family too, dear. And don't you be playing around with names like Mrs. O'Brien. Please, call me Mum. Or at least Louise."

"Okay," Paige said, smiling. "I will."

"Good. Now," Louise turned to a jar on the counter and popped off the top. "Do either of you want a lollipop?"

Paige gave an amused chuckle at how quickly she'd changed paths.

"I'll take one," Sylvester said.

"I am still going to heat up that stew," Louise said. "But Sean got a bunch of these for me at the shop last week, and I know I will never eat them all. Come, Paige," she said holding out the jar. "Take one."

Paige did, undoing the wrapper and popping the candy into her mouth. It was cotton candy flavored. It looked as if Sylvester had gotten cream soda.

"How is Walter doing, anyway?" Louise said. "I know that he and Sean didn't have the kind of relationship that normal boys and their fathers do. To tell the truth, I was afraid that he wouldn't come. I was a bit selfish in those thoughts. I told myself I wanted him to come mostly because I think a boy should be at his father's funeral, but in reality, I'd have been devastated if he hadn't come because who knows whenever I would see him again. I suppose I'll need to ask for forgiveness for my selfishness. But it is lonely in this house, and I've only been by myself for two days."

Paige was going to open her mouth and say that Walter would say there was nothing to forgive. Then she realized Louise didn't mean her son. "I, uh...I don't know how he is doing, in this respect," Paige said. "But he did want to come. I didn't have to work at him."

Louise gave a small smile as she nodded. "I'm glad. Ah, there y'are, Walter!" she said as her son reappeared. "Do you want a lollipop? These things are all the rage in America, aren't they?"

Paige noticed an uncomfortable look on Walter's face, and before she could open her mouth to ask him what was wrong, there was a sound like the front door slamming, followed by two loud voices. "Walter! Come on, we were just jesting with you. Why do you take everything so personally?"

Thomas and Connor.

"Uh," Sylvester said, "I think we should be getting our stuff up to the rooms."

Connor popped his head into the kitchen. "Ah, there he is!" He slung an arm around Walter's shoulders. "He couldn't carry in all the bags by himself."

"I was going to make two trips," Walter said, his jaw set.

"Boys, please don't be slamming doors," Louise said. "You're likely to knock them off the hinges."

"Ah, look at this," Thomas said, coming around the corner. "The Americans. Your bags are in the foyer, wimp," he said to Walter before turning back to the table. "I remember you," he said to Sylvester. "Megan's husband. We liked Megan's husband, didn't we, Connor?"

"I believe we did," the other man responded. "He wasn't quite as much of a dry shite as this one here."

"And look what we have here," Thomas said, folding his arms and taking Paige in. "Lollipop. Connor, do you see what she's got there?"

"I do."

"You know what they say," Thomas said to Paige. "The way a woman handles a lollipop is indicative of how she'd handle my langer."

Paige didn't need to ask what a langer was. Staring straight at Thomas, she put the lollipop back into her mouth. Biting down, she heard and felt the candy break into a dozen pieces between her molars, and she dragged the paper stick back out through her teeth, studied the mangled remains for a moment while she chewed, then turned back to Thomas. "Is that so?"

There was complete silence in the kitchen. Walter and Louise's eyes were saucers. They'd never looked more alike.

Thomas shifted uncomfortably, then glanced at Connor. "Ah..."

"We gotta go," Connor said. And then they were gone, as quickly as they'd come bursting into the house.

Louise folded her arms, looking amused. "Yes," she said. "You're definitely family."