Sam was glad Kurt had told him to expect stares of stupefaction. He waited patiently for the questions to assault them. He turned slightly toward his husband – and how freaking cool was that? Kurt Hummel was his husband – and lifted a brow at the small smirk on Kurt's face.

"What!" Melinda trilled.

"You're married?" Jim demanded.

Delia decided to intercede and pushed her way forward. "Let me be the first to congratulate you both," she beamed. She had no real stake in this and Kurt was her client, so it was to her benefit to keep him happy. Melinda and Jim could do the heavy lifting. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish inventory."

Kurt's smirk grew. "Going while the getting's good?"

"Melinda was right. You are smart," Delia snarked, waving over her shoulder as she went into the back room.

"When did this happen?" Jim asked.

Kurt looked down at his watch. "About three hours ago. We stopped at a justice of the peace in Birmingham."

Jim's mouth fell open.

Melinda was stuttering and stammering, whipping herself up into an hysterical cousin frenzy the likes of which the world had never seen. Kurt decided to cut her off at the pass.

"Mel," he softly began, "do you remember what you told me when you first met Jim?"

She nodded dumbly. Jim turned his curious gaze onto her.

"The moment you locked eyes with his, you knew. You were certain that, in a world which often made no sense, in which you had been made to feel that you didn't and couldn't ever belong, you had met your eye in the hurricane. You knew immediately that his soul was made for you to love and that he would love you just as equally."

"You said that?" Jim whispered to his wife.

Melinda flushed.

"I know all the arguments," Kurt said, keeping his eyes trained on hers. "I've heard them and made many of them myself. We're too young. We don't know what we're doing. We have no idea what marriage entails, how different it is from merely dating. We can't possibly expect to survive when we still have so much growing up to do."

Melinda abruptly closed her mouth.

"The moment Sam walked into the choir room, he took my breath away. Never had I seen someone so beautiful, and I'm not just talking about that body and face. I saw him."

Her eyes began to shine.

"I saw his kindness and his gentleness. I saw his humor and maturity. I saw how much love he had to give and, yes, I selfishly wanted to be the recipient of that." He paused. "I saw his goodness, Mel. He positively glowed with it. Sam is good. He's my Jim."

Melinda didn't bother to blink back her tears as Jim gave a suspicious sniffle.

Sam took Kurt's hand in his, once again reveling in its warmth and comfort. "I knew, too. At first I was scared because I'd never had a reaction like that to anyone, but there was an immediate connection." He grimaced. "If other people hadn't interfered, Kurt and I would have been together the last three years."

"Who interfered?" Melinda said darkly, eyes hooded and now ready for a fight.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Kurt said. "It doesn't bear repeating and a lot of it is our own faults. We let them come between us because we were too scared to examine ourselves and admit what we wanted. We finally reached the destination, but at different points in time; both of us were involved with other people. Once we finally got our acts together, those we expected to support us just … didn't."

"Except my family," Sam said. "They've been nothing but supportive." He grinned. "They know I definitely traded up," he added squeezing Kurt's hand and laughing when his husband blushed.

Kurt nodded. "Scott and Savannah treat me as their son and have from the first moment Sam brought me home. Stacy and Stevie, his sister and brother, are like my own siblings. I'm very lucky."

Sam raised their hands and kissed Kurt's knuckles. "I'm the lucky one."

Jim rolled his eyes.

Sam laughed. "I know. We're sickening, but we like it that way, so get used to it."

Melinda looked at Sam speculatively before turning curious eyes on Kurt.

"He knows," Kurt confirmed. "I couldn't hide it if I wanted to, and I don't. I trust Sam completely."

"I would never betray him," said a suddenly serious Sam, "and, no, I've never once doubted him."

Melinda couldn't help but smile, happy for them both.

Jim laid a strong hand on Sam's shoulder. "You're in for a hell of a ride, kid."

Melinda and Kurt glared.

"I know," Sam said, beaming. "How lucky am I?"

Melinda stared. "You haven't told your father?"

"It wasn't his decision," Kurt said, shrugging. "He knows how much Sam and I love each other and, while he approves of Sam in theory, you and I both know Dad will never think any boy is worthy of me."

She nodded, knowing it was true.

"Dad had me to himself for so long," Kurt continued, "and fought so hard to protect me, even when I didn't need it, that I think he's scared to give up the reins, so to speak." He sighed. "The problem is that Dad has always believed I need to be protected, when the truth of the matter is that I've been protecting myself for a long time."

He looked into her eyes. "You know what it's like, how it changes you. You were never allowed to be a child, either. You can't be, not when you see what we do. We see life and death and love in all its pain and glory. It's hard to keep your innocence when you see things differently from everyone else, when you've done that for longer than you can remember."

She swallowed. "I'll never know just how hard it's been for you. What you and Allison go through." She looked away. "And I'm ashamed that I don't want to know, either."

Kurt smiled and took her hand. "I don't blame you, so please don't feel guilty. I've never regretted my gifts and I've never fought them, but I also can't deny that I've often wondered who I'd be without them."

"You'd still be the love of my life," Sam whispered into his ear.

Melinda smiled. "You did well, Kurt. Very well. If Burt has a problem with that, you send him to me."

Kurt guided her over the couch on display in the middle of the room. "There's something I need to ask you."

Frowning at his seriousness, she nodded. "Anything."

He wet his lips as he thought about how to phrase his question.

"Talk to me, honey," she whispered.

He looked into her eyes. "Have you ever seen a ghost after they've crossed over?"

She stared at him. "No," she answered slowly. "Once they've finished their unfinished business, they cross over into the Light and it's done." She tilted her head. "Isn't it?"

He said nothing, averting his gaze.

A shiver of fear slithered down her back. "Kurt, who did you see?"

He was silent for a very long moment, which felt like an eon to Melinda and Jim. He closed his eyes and released a soft breath.

"Andrea."

Melinda sat, frozen, as her mind race with what Kurt had just imparted. Her entire world had just shifted on its axis. Jim, pale and clammy, now stood behind her, his hands settled on her shoulders, mindful not to squeeze as he wanted.

"What did she tell you?" he asked in a choked voice.

Kurt kept his eyes ensnared in those of Melinda. "Things I don't really understand. She came to me last week and told me that you were the One."

His eyes darkened as Melinda looked away. "You've heard that before."

A hesitant nod. "But I don't know what it means."

He believed her. "She also said that you couldn't trust Tom Gordon."

Melinda gave a startled blink. "My best friend told you I shouldn't trust my father?"

His frown deepened. He hadn't truly considered Andrea's words until Melinda had phrased them in that manner. She hadn't said Melinda couldn't trust her father; she had said Melinda couldn't trust Tom Gordon. He was sure there was a reason for the delineation, but didn't see how it would be productive at the moment, so he opted for obfuscation.

"Not that you shouldn't, but that you couldn't," he clarified. "Have you seen or spoken with him lately?"

"Not since I was nine," was the bitter reply. "I try not to think about him."

Kurt nodded. That was understandable. "And Aunt Beth?"

Melinda's scowl became fiercer. "Oh, you'll love this. Turns out Mom could see them too."

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

After the hell Beth had put Melinda through, all but accusing her of being insane since the time Melinda was a child, for her to learn this now … Melinda must have been devastated.

"She's been denying her gift for so long, she can no longer see them, but she can still hear them."

Kurt blew out a breath, knowing his anger, though valid, was misplaced. This was not his fight and Beth was not his mother. He was outraged on Melinda's behalf, but could do nothing for her. He was determined not to get in the middle of this. He respected her anger but, at the same time, he could understand Beth's position: wanting to be normal, not wanting this for her child.

He was so absurdly grateful for his mother and the unconditional love and support she had given him, though their time together had been brief. Thankfully, his father had picked up the slack, never questioning what Kurt could do, though it had always worried him.

"I don't know what to say," he murmured, "except that I'm sorry you're going through this."

She cocked her head. "There's a lot more you want to say, I can tell."

He smiled. "But I won't." He crossed his legs and regarded her. "I can't tell you how to handle this and I won't tell you how to feel or that you should forgive her." He paused. "What I will say is that, no matter how much you might think otherwise, you will always need your mother. You will always want her with you."

She nodded, patting his knee. She knew how Suzanne's death had devastated him, how it haunted him still. He would probably forgive Beth if their situations were reversed and, while Melinda liked to consider herself a forgiving person, she didn't believe she could manage it right now.

She cleared her throat. "That's all Andrea told you?"

He straightened and nodded. "I was stunned to see her. I never knew ghosts could come back at will. I thought, like you, once they crossed over, that was it." He bit his lip. "I got the sense that …" He shook his head in frustration, unable to clarify his thoughts.

"What?" she prompted.

He sighed. "That it wasn't of her own volition?" he asked, testing the words as he spoke them. Again he shook his head. "That's not right either. It was as though she was sent, specifically to tell me this, so that I would tell you. She was a messenger."

Jim stared down at the floor. He knew Mel was still having difficulty accepting Andrea's death. So was he. She had been his best friend, too, though his relationship with her had been different than hers with Melinda. Their circle was small; it had to be, given what Mel could do. But Andrea had known everything and, though she like him couldn't see ghosts, her total belief in Melinda allowed her to share the experience somewhat. She was like a kindred spirit to Jim.

She had been funny, so hysterically funny, and she had loved sports and beer and a good filthy joke. She had never been one of the guys, she was too feminine and beautiful to be considered such, but she had been one hell of a broad.

At least Melinda had been able to see her, speak with her, before she crossed over. Jim had been denied that gift. Andrea had been taken from them suddenly and without warning, as so often happens, and all he was left with was the stark finality of her absence. It was perhaps the only time he had envied his wife her abilities.

Understanding her husband's hurt and confusion, Melinda reached up and laid her hands over his.

"What's going on in this town, Mellie?" Kurt asked. "And why does Professor Payne drop hints about whether or not I know what you can do?"

Melinda rolled her eyes. Rick Payne was a pain in the ass. She was endlessly grateful for his help and knowledge, but his fascination with her gifts was annoying. She knew he liked and respected her, but part of her felt he wanted to lock her in a lab and dissect her.

She wasn't sure what to tell her cousin. She knew Kurt didn't necessarily buy into the esoteric stuff as she did. Things like signs and dire warnings weren't likely to impress him.

Still …

That Andrea had managed to manifest herself to him, no matter how that had come about, would lend credence to her story. She told it.

She wasn't surprised that Kurt appeared interested but mostly indifferent. She was heartened, however, that Sam paid close attention and appeared to be seriously considering her words. He was worried for his husband and, even if Kurt ignored her, Sam wouldn't.

When she was finished, Kurt merely nodded and asked how much she was asking for the settee.

Melinda whined and complained about Sam and Kurt staying with her and Jim until they had furniture for their house, but her arguments fell on deaf ears.

Jim laughed in his head like a hyena. Melinda was so intuitive, no sensitive, that the times in which she completely missed the obvious were hysterical. Kurt and Sam were newlyweds, with everything that entailed. Of course the boys didn't want to stay with them.

As Melinda prattled on, Jim gave her an incredulous look.

"What?" she asked, honestly perplexed.

Jim threw up his hands. "Seriously, Mel? They just got married. They no longer live in their parents' homes. Look at them! They're good-looking, healthy boys. Why do you think they don't want to stay with us?"

Melinda flushed darkly, as did Sam. Both of them stared at the ground as they walked to their cars. Delia cackled as she followed behind.

Kurt had a wide smirk on his face that made Jim perversely proud.

Kurt and Sam stared up at their new house. Well, mansion.

"Wow," Sam breathed.

"It looked smaller in the pictures," Kurt whispered. He had expected something nice, but not quite so … grand. He was worried how Sam would react to this, wishing they had made the decision together.

"Pictures can be deceiving," Delia said happily, still grateful for the commission.

The house was a detached single-family home in the early Gothic Revival style, built in 1845. It sat back about half a football field from the front of the street on approximately an acre, a large apron opening onto a red-bricked driveway in the shape of a semicircle; the other exit was just at the end of the block.

The entire property was surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence painted black. It stood almost as tall as Melinda. The grounds were gorgeous and lovingly manicured, as though the entire lawn had been groomed with scissors rather than mown. Sam had never seen a yard with so many trees and was already thinking about how much there would be to rake when autumn fell in a few months. He noted oak, elm, pine, willow, birch, and black walnut.

His freaking yard had more types of wood than Ollivander's wand shop!

Okay, geek moment over.

In between the driveway and the front yard proper sat a large fountain.

A bug-eyed Sam stared at it. Kurt was just glad the fountain wasn't ugly or ostentatious.

The house was wood, painted a gray-violet with a slate roof. The veranda, protruding at least eight feet from the house itself wrapped around half of the ground floor and was already furnished with several rockers and a swing installed in each section. Doric columns with elaborate entablatures offered support and were connected to each other via delicate vergeboards.

Sam lost count of the steeply-pitched roofs and gables. The chimneys, and there were several, were barely noticeable. There was even a multi-level cupola! And a freaking tower, complete with widow's walk.

A tower.

Sam had fantasies of rescuing Kurt from that tower, pulling up on his white steed and climbing the ivy to rescue his beloved. And that was a lot of nonsense because Kurt didn't need rescuing from anybody and Sam Evans was a huge nerd of the first order, but Kurt often called him Prince Charming and he wanted to live up to that.

Sam was surprised Kurt had chosen this house. His tastes ran toward Neoclassical and Greek Revival. What had prompted this decision?

Delia began prattling about the features, a lecture she had been giving since she moved to Grandview and had been assigned the house by the agency. It had been deserted for years, though it had been maintained by the previous owners. The house was lovely but extremely large and showroom ready, thus it had been out of reach for those who had fallen in love with it but couldn't afford the hefty price tag.

"The house is three levels, plus fully-finished attic and cellar space. The cellar features the media room, the billiard room …"

"The what?" Sam interrupted.

Kurt held his tongue. He knew he sometimes irritated Sam by answering every question posed.

"A game room," Delia clarified. "There's also the gym, the wine cellar, a full-service bar with efficiency kitchen, and the laundry room, complete with dumbwaiter to the other levels. There's also additional storage space."

Jim blinked. He had driven past this house for years and never really considered it. Was it like a TARDIS? Bigger on the inside?

Melinda preferred watching Kurt and Sam.

"Are you okay?" Kurt whispered.

Sam just smiled and took his husband's hand. "It's a lot, yeah, but I'm fine. I always knew you had money, you were totally honest about that, and I'm not jealous or resentful." His eyes became serious. "I'm not Finn, honey. When I look at you, I see my husband, not his wallet."

Melinda had hearts in her eyes and wanted to bleat about how sweet Sam was. She managed to restrain herself, but only barely. She smiled when Jim leaned down and whispered that Kurt really had done well for himself. She nodded happily.

Delia grinned. "The first floor contains the grand foyer, the kitchen, a butler's pantry, the breakfast room, the formal dining room, a double parlor, a drawing room, and the conservatory, which has a bank of French windows opening onto the patio and backyard. Let's go inside!"

A dazed Sam nodded as a nervous Kurt bit his lip and held tightly to his husband's hand as they ascended the broad stone stairs, Melinda and Jim just behind them. Sam looked at the wide double entrance, the oak doors polished to a sheen and carved elaborately. The windows were stained glass and absolutely gorgeous.

"I'm surprised a house like this doesn't have a name," he said.

Kurt stilled.

"Oh, it does!" said an enthusiastic Delia. "It's called Hawthorne Manor."

Sam gawked and spun toward Kurt, who blushed.

"As in Nathaniel Hawthorne?" asked an interested Melinda.

"A different branch of the family," Delia replied, "but he was known to stay here on occasion when traveling between the city and New England. Edgar Allan Poe, Henry David Thoreau, and Herman Melville were also guests."

Sam continued to stare at Kurt, who blushed.

"Surprise?" Kurt asked weakly.

"What's going on?" asked a hesitant Jim.

Sam blinked several times. "Hawthorne is my mother's maiden name." He put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, eyes bright. "You did this for me?"

Kurt shrugged a shoulder and looked away. "I know how much her heritage means to her and she has a right to be proud. Once I knew we were moving to Grandview, I did a little research and found out the house used to belong to her family." He nodded to himself. "And now it does again."

It took considerable effort for Sam not to kiss Kurt into oblivion, but he knew his husband wasn't too fond of public displays of affection. In truth, after watching Finn and Rachel tongue-wrestle off and on for three years, none of them were big on PDAs.

"Thank you," he whispered, staring deeply into Kurt's eyes.

Kurt's smile was small but brilliant. He wrapped an arm around Sam's waist while his other hand locked with Melinda's own. "Family is everything."

All of them stood before the grand staircase and stared up at it with wonder.

"Whoa," Jim murmured.

They had completed the circuits for the cellar and ground floors and were ready to tour the next three.

"The second floor houses the master suite," Delia said, "three other bedrooms, the ball room, and two studies."

"How many bedrooms does the Manor have?" Melinda asked.

"Nine," Delia said, frowning. "I found the architect's original plans and there were a lot of notes about numerology. Apparently nine bedrooms is supposed to be significant."

Kurt and Melinda looked askance at one another.

"What are we going to do with nine bedrooms?" Sam wondered.

"Well," Kurt slowly began, "the master suite will be ours and I thought we could make up rooms for Dad and Carole; your parents, Sam; and Stevie and Stacy for when they visit."

Sam gave him a weepy smile and Kurt patted his hand.

"What about the rest?" Jim asked.

"Children, of course," Kurt said.

Jim and Melinda gave him looks of shock.

Sam grinned. "Kurt and I want children sooner rather than later. We want to be young enough to enjoy them."

Jim gave Melinda a significant look she ignored.

"Are you thinking about adoption or surrogacy?" Delia asked.

"Both," Kurt replied. "We want to give a home to children who need them, but I want Sam to have natural children as well."

"Kurt …" Sam began.

"No. Not again, Sam," he said. "We've been through this."

Melinda looked away.

"You don't know it will be passed on," Sam argued.

Kurt gave him a withering look. "Yes, I do. It grows stronger with each generation, Sam, and that's the end of it."

Jim suddenly sagged with unwelcome insight as he thought about how he had been pressing Melinda harder and harder to start a family. He should have realized why she kept putting him off, saying they still had a lot of time, that they hadn't been married that long yet and she wanted to spend time just with him. He should have understood her reticence but had willfully blinded himself to it.

"This discussion is not over, Kurt," Sam barked, chasing his husband, who had already ascended the stairs.

"Oh, yes it is!" Kurt growled over his shoulder.

Jim took Melinda's elbow but she shrugged him off and followed the boys.

He sighed and looked at Delia, whose face suggested her heart hurt almost as much as his own.