Ten Years Later

TWO FATHERS

Her father was older and heavier, but the longer she looked the more she saw the man she remembered from when she was young. And yet, despite looking for him from the second floor windows and during the ceremony, she had not seen him. Maybe she saw him and just didn't recognize him. But he showed. He came. Hanging by his finger tips, he was still in their lives, and Buffy let her shoulders relax.

"Dad." She held her breath and side-hugged him with her free arm. "You came."

"I sent my RSVP. I wouldn't miss my daughter's wedding."

"Right. Yeah." She paused. "Did you get something to drink?"

He held up the glass in his hand.

"Good." She held up her own drink. "Me, too."

"It's good to see you, dear."

She wanted to hug him again—a real hug this time, with both arms—but she didn't know if she should. "Oh, yeah, it's good to see you. It's been awhile."

"Too long."

She nodded.

He nodded.

She hoped maybe he would take the initiative and hug her. "Is it a long flight from Spain to England?" She thought about this. "Probably not that bad."

"What? I'm back in L.A. I told you. Remember?"

"Oh, I forgot." She didn't know he was in L.A. "I thought we sent your invitation to an address in Spain."

"My ex sent it on to me."

"Oh." Buffy said. "That's nice."

"I talked to Dawn a few weeks ago, after I got the invitation—I gave her my new address."

"That's good. I don't think we have your phone number."

"I got a new one. I'll make sure you have it."

"Good."

She looked him in the eyes as he spoke. His eyes wandered. She took a step closer to him, thinking that it would let him know that he could hug her—or maybe he would just put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yep, back in L.A. It's home," he said, one hand hold his glass and the other in his pocket. "I had my adventures, but really that's where I belong," he said. "Dawn said that she's mostly in England now."

Buffy shrugged. "Kind of. We travel a lot. Now that she's married to a British guy, I guess she'll probably stay here."

"Well then, when you get back to California, you and I should make an effort to spend more time together."

"I haven't lived there in years." She took a sip from her glass. "I don't know if I'm going back."

"Why wouldn't you?" He pointed to an empty picnic table and they sat down across from each other. "It's the Summers' home."

Across the lawn, Buffy heard Dawn and Jeffery laughing. "My family is here." She sighed and said absently, "Mom is dead."

His face dropped and he didn't move.

"Ah." Her mouth was suddenly dry and her face burned. "Have you said hi to Dawn yet? She was looking for you."

"Not yet. She's busy mingling. I'll wait until they're free; I want the groom to introduce me to his parents." He looked around. "Why the rush to get married? It's a miracle I got any time off with such short notice." He leaned forward and whispered, "Is she pregnant?"

"No."

He took a drink.

Buffy took a drink.

She looked over his shoulder to Willow and Xander. Willow made a few large gestures and Buffy nodded shallowly. Xander mimed that he shot himself in the head.

"When did you get in, Dad?"

"Yesterday morning. I'm leaving tomorrow, though. Got a big meeting next week. I wish I could stay and sightsee, but, you know, I have obligations."

"You should've called. You could've stayed here. There's lots of room."

"Oh, that's sweet, thanks. But I don't want to be a burden. My hotel is nice. Where are you staying, Buffy?"

Buffy lifted her eyebrows. "Here."

"Oh." He took another drink. "Really?"

"I live here when I'm in England. It's peaceful. All of my stuff's here."

"It's good of Jeffery and Dawn to let you stay here, but you really need to let them have their space now."

"What? Dad, this isn't their place. They lived here before they got their apartment, but—"

"Oh? So this is your house?"

She sputtered a little before saying, "I guess. I live here."

He lifted his eyebrow. "It's beautiful. How can you afford this? Where are you working?"

"I work for a private security firm."

That is what they told people.

"Oh. That's good, Buffy. What do you do there?"

She thought about it, but decided to go with her usual answer. "I answer phones."

"Hmm." He nodded and looked around. "Beautiful weather today—which is unusual for England—it rains all the time."

Buffy shrugged. "It doesn't rain that much around here. Or maybe I just don't notice it anymore."

"I hate the rain," he said staring off. "Anyway, I've got this fantastic opportunity to really make some great money with this next account. You'd be proud of your dad. Hard work really pays off—" His voice was level and calm, just the way Buffy remembered it. She used to think his voice was the most soothing sound in the world—full of comfort, understanding and protection—but now she wasn't so sure.

Giles, with a plate of food, sat next to Buffy at the picnic table. He startled her. She wished he hadn't sat down.

He was still in the best mood Buffy had ever seen him in—there was even a spring in his step. "Food is splendid, Buffy, fine choice." He looked up to Hank and extended his hand across the table. "Hello, I'm Rupert—father of the bride. I don't believe we've met. Are you one of Jeffery's family?"

"No. I'm Hank—father of the bride."

Giles froze. "Yes, of course, Hank Summers. I'm happy you could make it."

Hank shook his hand.

Giles smiled and said tentatively, "I know Dawn was thrilled when she heard you'd be available."

Buffy wanted to run away. But she couldn't run; it was her destiny not to run away in the face of fear.

In her early days of Sunnydale, she would have loved for Giles and her father to sit down and talk. She imagined they would talked about her, surely, swapping stories about her accomplishments, sense of humor, and general greatness. That was her dream, but now it seemed the most unappealing thing she could imagine.

"Dad, I think you've met him before—a long time ago. He was the Sunnydale High librarian, Mr. Giles."

Giles nodded. "Yes, I do believe we've met once."

"The librarian?"

"I'm not a librarian anymore—unfortunately—but, yes, I suppose I'm always the librarian."

"I don't recall."

Giles put a fork full of food in his mouth.

Hank took a drink.

Buffy took a drink.

Hank set his glass on the table and watched Giles eat.

Giles kept his head down.

Buffy tried to think of something to say, but she couldn't think when all she wanted to do was run away.

"So," Hank said slowly, "you know Dawn because you were the librarian at her school?"

"Ah," Giles said, "I was the librarian at Buffy's school."

Buffy and Giles glanced at each other. They had been telling people, outsiders, for years that he was the man who helped raise them—it was basically true and no one asked for details—but for Hank, that explanation wouldn't work.

Hank lifted his eyebrows. "And that gives you the right to introduce yourself as her father?"

"Dad, Giles was a—he was a mentor, a kind of councilor for me and my friends—and other kids, too—lots of other kids, not just us." She paused. "Oh! He helped me study for my SAT's and get into college."

"Didn't you drop out of college?" he asked.

Buffy smiled. "Yeah, he helped me with that, too."

Giles nodded. "I became a friend of the family."

Hank shook his head. "If you were a friend of the family, why am I just now hearing about you?"

Giles looked Hank in the eyes. "As Buffy said, we did meet before."

They ate and drank in silence for a few moments. Buffy's breathing picked up a bit and her eyes moistened. It had been years since she'd seen her father, and a week ago the prospect of seeing him—no matter how much pain he had caused—filled her with joy and hope. Now, however, the reality of seeing him crushed her. After so many years apart, she felt awkward and stressed around him. She also felt the crushing weight of guilt. She would never understand why she felt guilty for their strained relationship or why she felt responsible for his continued absents.

As she looked at him across the table, she wondered if he felt the same overwhelming guilt and regret. Did it eat away at him the way it ate away at her? Did he feel awkward around her? Was he just hiding it, too? She wanted to know how he felt about them, but didn't know how to ask. Could Hank see her pain?

Giles always saw her pain. It seemed Giles could look at her and feel her every emotion. In turn, she could look at Giles and know his guilt and regret. More than that, however, they could ask each other and they'd talk. It was effortless.

Her father, however, was a mystery she dared not solve. She couldn't ask the questions she wanted answered most.

Hank put his glass down and looked at Giles. "What do you do for a living, Rupert?—since you're not a librarian anymore."

"I work for a private security firm."

Buffy wanted to strangle Giles for saying that.

Hank looked to Buffy. "You work together?"

Buffy nodded shallowly. "Willow and Xander do as well. That's kind of why we're all in England."

"Willow and Xander?" Hank asked.

"Oh, they are our friends. We went to high school together."

Hank nodded. "I think I remember you talking about them."

Buffy could see her father thinking—she could almost hear it.

"Dawn says she works at a bakery?"

"Yes," Buffy said, "every now and again. It's where Jeffery works and sometimes they need help."

"She doesn't work for this private security firm?"

Buffy tipped her head. "Sometimes she does."

He looked to Giles and took a drink: "You gave my daughter away."

Giles sighed and said softly, "Yes, and it was an honor. But I didn't give her away, I just walked her down the aisle."

Buffy finished her drink and collected all the courage she had. "Dad, Giles is family. Dawn and I are thankful for him."

Hank tipped his head said softly. "He's not family. Buffy, honey, I know you're upset with me. Believe me, you've made that clear, but—"

She covered his hand with hers. "No, Dad, I'm not upset. Not today."

Giles stood. "Excuse me. I'm going to get a drink."

When Giles left, Buffy said, "please, let's talk about this some other time."

His voice was soft and sad. "Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? How painful this is?"

She felt the guilt thicken in her stomach. "I'm sorry."

"You both knew I was going to come. You didn't think about how this would make me feel."

"It wasn't about you. It was about what Dawn—and I thought was best."

"To have some stranger give her away?"

"He's not a stranger. Dad, Giles taught me to trust myself. He listened and gave advice." She let go of his hand. "When I found Mom dead, he was the one I called. He went to the hospital with her, and signed papers, and helped plan the funeral. I mean, for months after, he'd come over to cook dinner for us so we wouldn't be so alone. We were so alone."

"I wanted to be there," he said softly, "but you have to understand that I was dealing with my own problems at the time. I didn't want to burden you."

"You did burden us."

"It wasn't easy for me, Buffy. Sometimes men have to make the difficult choices. Sometimes being man is about sacrifice. Life is not easy. Maybe you'll understand when you have the responsibilities of a family."

"Responsibilities of a family? Difficult choices and sacrifice…" she repeated. She loved him, but she didn't like him. "I'd like to know what your difficulties were, Dad. We can swap war stories."

He fidgeted with his glass and said almost kindly: "Honey, there's a lot you don't know about me—about the things I've had to deal with."

"Did you spend the best years of your life fighting evil and vampires? Dying?"

"Buffy, I'm trying to have an honest conversation with you." He took a drink. "You're making light of my problems."

"I'm trying to understand what your problems are."

He looked away. "My problem is that I'm hurt. It was hard for me to watch someone else give my daughter away."

"I don't want you to be hurt," she said. "I just want you to understand that Giles has been with us through the most trying times we've ever faced—and believe me, I've put him through hell. But he's never abandoned us—not really. Dawn asked him to do this because she loves him, but it doesn't mean she's forgotten about you."

"It seems like it. Neither of you ever call." He shrugged. His voice was still level and calm. "That man didn't sit up with you and your sister all night when you were sick. He didn't buy you your first bike. He didn't teach you how to tie your shoes. And yet, he gets the rewards because he's—what?—what is he?"

"A librarian."

He didn't react. He didn't move.

"I'll call you more." Buffy stared into her father's eyes. "I've never wanted to hurt you, but Giles has been at my bed side when I've been sick. And you may have bought me a bike, but Mom taught me how to ride." She felt herself get angry. "Dad, I don't want to talk about this anymore—not now—this is a happy day. I don't want to do this now."

Hank kept his eyes on the ground. "Got it." He stood. "I'll say hi to Dawn and leave."

"Dad—"

He walked away. Buffy stood to follow, but she stopped herself. She sat back down and Giles returned.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She took a scone off his plate and nibbled on it.

He rubbed a light circle between her shoulder blades.

"This is a good scone," she said.

"I'm sorry I introduced myself the way I did—I got carried away. It didn't occur to me that he was here."

"You did nothing wrong."

He picked at the food on his plate. "Let's not let this darken our day. Okay?"

"He makes me feel like crap."

Giles nodded. "If it's any consolation, I think he feels bad as well."

She pushed her lips together. "I don't want him to be hurt."

"You have a heart of gold, Buffy." He took a drink. "Would you like me to go talk to him? Maybe if I explain—"

"Thanks, but no."

When her father had said he'd come to the wedding, Buffy and Dawn discussed the ramifications of having Giles walk Dawn down the aisle. Giles had already been asked, but they wondered if it would just be easier to let their father do it. But when Dawn couldn't remember the last time her father had called her, the decision was made.

Buffy now wondered if they should've let Hank walk her down the aisle. If it meant keeping the peace and avoiding this feeling, it might have been worth it. She only hoped that he was civil with Dawn.

Giles said: "What are you think about?"

"Nothing."

He smiled. "You just looked a little—mmm" He shrugged.

"Are all fathers such disappointments?"

"I hope not."

She finished her scone. "Even when you've disappointed me, Giles, you're not a disappointment."

"I'm not your father—you don't put me on a pedestal or hold me to the same standard."

"I guess not."

Giles continued to eat. "You're not responsible for his behavior."

"I know." She stared off.

"He's the one who gave up his greatest gifts."

She said sarcastically, "Yeah, yeah, it's his loss."

"It is his loss." He was serious. "But I know it's your loss, too."

The music from the band mixed with the laughter of the guests. There was so much happiness around them, it seemed extraordinary to Buffy that she felt bad. "I used to wish that you were my father."

He inhaled sharply. "I'm flattered, truly, but I'm sure you didn't mean it."

"I did mean it, for a time. We had our moments when everything was father-daughtery. You were what I needed when I needed you most. I could tell you anything and I trusted you. I used to wish you were my father mostly so that I wouldn't feel guilty about preferring you over him." She let her shoulders slump. "I hate the guilt."

"You can still tell me anything."

"I know. I do tell you everything—basically. There's a story about Bruno, that Italian guy, that I'll tell you about later." She half-smiled.

He lifted his eyebrows.

"When I have news, or even when I just want to talk about my day, I want to tell you and Dawn and Willow and Xander. I don't even think about calling my dad anymore. It makes me sad when I really think about it."

He watched her as she watched her father approach Dawn and Jeffery. They were too far away to hear anything, but Buffy watched anyway. She could feel Giles worried eyes focused on her.

"There was a time," she said, "when I seriously thought about telling him about being the slayer. I had this fantasy that he'd get all protective and want to come stop me, and then he'd be forced to be part of our lives and worry about us."

He set his glasses on the table. "Why didn't you?"

"Because what if he didn't come to the rescue? What if he didn't care?"

Giles put a hand on her shoulder as she continued to watch her father and Dawn talk. Giles' gesture was, as always, a welcomed comfort. There was a part of her, however, that feared that her father would see this and know that he could not compete with Giles—not anymore.

She looked Giles in the eyes. "My dad is a good man; he's just a bad father."

He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "I don't think a bad father can ever be considered a good man."

That sent a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes. The light breeze ruffled her hair and Giles's hand on her shoulder was heavy and warm.

"Buffy," he said tentatively, "I'm sorry I can't help you solve this problem or fill this void. I can't even begin to explain how hard it's been for me to know that I can play the father, but I can't be the father—not really."

She couldn't open her eyes to look at him. She felt the same pain, guilt, and regret.

"Buffy, my life didn't really begin until I met you," he said. "I've always imagined that's what it must feel like when a child is born."

With her eyes still closed, she inhaled slowly. When she finally opened her eyes, his were staring back at her—warm and kind as ever.

"Giles, you're a great man."

He smiled. "Thank you."

They ate a little and made pleasantries with people who came around to say hello. There were a few friends of Dawn's and other acquaintances, but then a woman close to Giles' age came up to the table. She was tall and beautiful. She was the woman he'd been talking with earlier—the one Xander pointed out. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Mary." He put a hand on her upper arm. "I'm sorry I didn't make my way back to you; I got distracted; I've been rather busy."

She smiled with her hands on his forearms. "It's a big day for you."

"Yes, indeed." He turned to Buffy. His eyes were bright and relaxed. "Buffy, this is my cousin Mary from Manchester—I told you she might come."

"Oh! Right."

Buffy knew of her. Giles grew up with Mary; he once said that she was his first friend. They tried to stay in touch after she married and moved to Manchester and after he moved to Sunnydale, but it was difficult.

"Mary, it's nice to meet you—finally," Buffy said.

Giles was beaming.

She laughed. "It's my pleasure, entirely. I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity—the Buffy Summers."

Buffy lifted an eyebrow

Giles tipped his head. "She knows, Buffy. It's the family business."

Mary looked at Buffy. "Well, yes, you're the slayer, but I meant you're like a celebrity simply because of how much he talks about you."

"Good things, I hope."

"My gosh; when he was in Sunnydale we didn't write much, maybe once or twice a year—long letters—but it was always about you. I'd tell him about how my kids were doing in school and he'd tell me how you saved the world."

"It wasn't all success stories."

"He only mentioned your accomplishments."

She looked to Giles. "I approve."

Xander quickly walked up behind Giles and tapped him on the shoulder. "Giles, some little boy kid slipped in the kitchen and is bleeding a lot."

"Where are his parents?"

"I don't know. I don't know who he is. He's really crying and Jeffery's mom is trying to comfort him, but she's really drunk and kind of scary."

Giles stood. "Excuse me."

Xander and Giles jogged toward the house.

"I hope everything's okay," Mary said.

"Ah." Buffy flicked her hand dismissively. "Xander and Giles are no strangers to a little blood. They've stitched me up hundreds of times."

They sat there for a moment. The sun was lowering, but this time of year at this latitude, the sun wouldn't go down for hours.

"Do you want a drink?" Buffy asked.

Mary held up a glass. "I've got one, thank you."

Buffy nodded. "So, tell me an embarrassing childhood story about Giles before he gets back."

The corners of Mary's mouth lifted. "You call him Giles?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, he was the school librarian, too. Mr. Giles. It kind of stuck."

"I don't know if I should tell you anything he hasn't already shared."

"He doesn't really share anything about his past. Only recently did I find out he was a kid at one time."

"He was a child. It's true." Mary laughed. "Is there anything you want to know about him?"

"I get to pick? Man, I wish I had more time to think about this. Once in a lifetime opportunity."

"No pressure, Buffy."

Buffy studied Mary's face. She looked a lot like Giles. She had the same sharp features and warm eyes. "Did you come all the way from Manchester just for the wedding?"

"Yes, Rupert invited me. He insisted I come."

"That's a long trip to see two people you've never met get married. I'm mean the ceremony was like ten minutes at most."

"I came because he's family. He's wanted me to meet you and Dawn for years. When Dawn asked him to give her away, he was thrilled. I couldn't say no."

"I didn't know you two talked so much."

"We write mostly. He's not one for phone calls." She smiled softly at Buffy, as if looking at a newborn. "He's proud of you, Buffy. He loves you and Dawn."

"I know."

Mary straightened her posture. "So what's the question?"

"Are his letters as long as I suspect? He keeps these journals, and though I don't read them, I can only imagine how wordy he is."

"That's your question?"

"You put me on the spot. I've been drinking—don't judge."

"Yes, Buffy, he is very wordy. On the phone he doesn't say anything, but his letters are where I get all the dirt."

"Dirt?"

"By dirt I mean he suggests books. There's usually a page or two dedicated to his readings."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "How long was his shortest letter? Like fifteen pages?"

Mary thought about this. "No, the shortest letter I ever got from him was just a few lines."

"Must have been a slow time in Sunnydale. What did it say? 'I love Tweed. I need more Tweed.'"

Mary shook her head and looked away.

"What?" Buffy asked. "Maybe more like: 'Americans drive on the wrong side of the road?'"

Mary smiled sadly.

Buffy suddenly felt self-conscious. "What?"

"He always said you were luminous. I can see it."

Buffy felt like Mary was hiding something. "Is that what he wrote in the short letter?"

"No." Mary smiled warmly. "I'm sorry, I'm just so pleased to finally meet you."

Buffy felt like she's always known Mary, not because of what Giles had said about her, but because of something she couldn't put her finger on.

"Mary, my second question: What was in that short letter?"

Mary leaded forward. "You're a Slayer and a detective."

"I can Sherlock it up every now and again."

"Please don't tell him I'm telling you this."

"Okay."

Mary took a drink. "The letter said: Buffy died last week and she saved the world. I hurt in a way I've never imagined possible. Buffy is dead and so am I. I don't know what to do." Mary paused. "There were tear stains on the paper."

Buffy traced her fingers across the wood grain of the picnic table top. She had never really thought about what the others went through after she died. Giles had never talked to her about it, and she didn't ask.

Buffy glanced at Mary. "You memorized it?"

"It was impossible to forget. I was worried he was going to hurt himself."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Did he try something?"

"No. No. After I got the letter, I tried calling but it took days to get a hold of him. I was ready to call the police or get on a plane."

"Eventually you talked to him?"

"Yes. When I first got him on the phone, I could scarcely understand him. He was just sobbing."

Buffy's jaw tightened.

"I couldn't do anything; he was so far away." She looked off blankly. "I can't imagine what he went through. Losing a child…"

Buffy inhaled. The words losing a child rang in her ears. "But he got better?"

"He got better when you came back, but even then…"

Buffy looked around. She wondered if her father had already left. He wasn't with Dawn anymore.

"Maybe this was too much story for a first meeting. I'm sorry."

"No. It's fine."

"He wouldn't have wanted me to tell you."

Buffy shrugged. "I guess you kind of know all about my life."

Mary shook her head. "Only the highlights."

"My dad is here somewhere," Buffy said. "He never knew I died. He doesn't know what I do."

Mary narrowed her eyes. "I won't mention it."

"That's not what I meant—but it would be great if you didn't tell him—I just meant that…oh, I don't know what I mean."

"It's okay, Buffy. I understand."

Buffy looked into Mary's eyes—they were a bit darker than Giles', but still green.

"Giles said that your aunt originally left this house to you."

"Yes," Mary said, "but I was going through a long divorce at the time, so before my aunt died I asked her to put it in Rupert's name. I didn't want my husband to have a claim on it. It's been in the family for a long time."

"Have you thought about moving back this way?"

"No, my kids are grown and all live in Manchester. I couldn't leave them or my grandchildren."

Buffy nodded. "You should at least come visit more. I know he'd like it. I would, too."

"I will, but what about you? You and Dawn could drag him up to Manchester every now and again."

Buffy laughed. "I'll try." She paused and a smiled grew over her lips. "Do you want to look at some old pictures?"

Buffy led Mary through the house—passed the still crying boy and an exasperated Xander and Giles—and to the pictures in the hall.

Mary gazed at them. "Where did you get these?"

"They were in the house. I've gone through hundreds of pictures."

Mary recognized some. One was of a great uncle who died when she was young, but she remembered that he always had a pocket full of hard candy. There were some that she didn't know, but Mary's face was open and happy with each knew photo.

Mary got to a picture of Giles and his father. Giles was maybe ten years old—he was long and thin. His father was about the age Giles was when Buffy first met him—he was a large man. Not only was he tall, but he was athletic and muscular, much more so than Giles had ever been.

"Okay," Buffy said, "I have a real question now: what was his father like?"

"Rupert's father?" Mary thought about this. "I remember my uncle as a decent man. He took his job as Watcher seriously."

"But what was he like?"

"When I was young, I used to adore Rupert's father. He was funny and charming and warm and kind—that's when Rupert and I lived near each other—his mother babysat me. But when his slayer died, he changed. She actually was never a slayer, just a potential—she died of cancer."

Buffy's eyes widened. "I wasn't expecting that."

"It was very unusual. She was so young. Rupert and I were about nine or ten when she died, and she was maybe fifteen."

"This picture of Rupert and his father was taken after his slayer died."

"What was his father like after that?"

"Distant, sad. After that Rupert and his father would argue and then not speak to each other. Again, Buffy, I should not be telling you this."

"You already started."

"Yes. Well, when we were about fourteen, Rupert admitted that he thought his father wished Rupert had died instead of his slayer."

"God," Buffy said.

"I don't for a moment believe that's true, and I know Rupert doesn't believe that either, but it just goes to show how strained their relationship became."

"Did their relationship ever get better?"

"Yes," Mary said, "only after Rupert joined the Council. They were at least civil. His father died before Rupert moved to Sunnydale, which is unfortunate because nothing would have made Rupert more proud than to tell his father about you."

"Giles and I talk, but there are things he never shares."

"I'm sure he'll tell you. He just needs a little nudging."

Buffy nodded. "The pictures have helped. I've gotten some stuff out of him."

"These pictures are splendid." Mary said, "I haven't seen these in years."

"You can take some if you want. I keep all the photo albums in Giles' library. Let me show you."

Mary put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "No, you keep the originals. Maybe just scan them and email some to me."

"Sure, but I don't mind giving you some—it's your family."

"It's your family, too."

Buffy squinted. "You know what I mean. I'm not family family."

"What?" Mary shook her head and smiled. "This will all be yours some day: the house, the property, the photos, the memories. Your kids will get it and then their kids. It's the family estate."

"Don't count on it. Maybe Dawn will have kids, but I don't see kids in my future."

"You never know. Giles didn't have kids, and it worked out for him."