When they finally arrive at home the next evening, late and worn out form an unproductive day in front of a too-bare murder board, Martha is there. Castle's mother sits in a chair to the side of the sofa, glass in hand, a half-full bottle of Merlot on the coffee table. As Kate hangs their coats and Castle sorts through the day's mail, it occurs to Kate that she's never seen Martha so subdued. Absent is her typical colorful flare; she's adorned instead in a subtle navy blue sweater set and gray slacks. Classy for sure, but as if she dressed with the maxim in mind that this evening isn't about her. Although, in a way, it's all about Martha and her past.

Richard's address to Martha is as warm and affectionate as ever, even if he's a little weary around the eyes. He stoops to kiss his mother on the cheek.

"Had dinner yet?"

"No, not yet," Martha admits, attempting a smile, but only managing to press her lips into a grim little line. Everything about Martha's appearance tonight telegraphs the fact that Kate wasn't the only one this week with an unexpected visitor.

Rick sighs, a tired sound, and Martha's heart breaks for her son.

"Mother, I know we need to talk, but I'm going to feed Kate first."

"Please, I'm fine, do what you need to."

Richard squeezes her shoulder and Martha sags into the cushions and takes a drink of her wine.

"It's okay, Mother. I just need to hear you tell me what you know. I need something to compare his story to, so I can sort it out in my head."

"Everything, I promise."

He nods and heads into the kitchen, where Kate is already putting a pot of water on to boil. Castle grabs a container of homemade bolognese out of the freezer and throws it into the microwave. Castle pours iced tea and Kate throws together a simple spinach salad, and soon they are all seated around the dinner table.

Dinner is a quick, quiet affair, and the dishes are soon dispatched. As Martha is putting the last of the silverware into the dishwasher, Kate excuses herself to get comfortable.

Her husband follows into the office, shucks his jacket and shoes, and pours himself two fingers of scotch. He's leaning in the doorway to the bedroom, swirling it around in the glass, when Kate emerges from the bathroom. In a pair of his Christmas pajamas.

Kate can't quite classify her husband's expression. He draws a breath to speak, but she cuts him off with a pointy, accusing finger and an unconvincing little glare. "Before you speak, I'll remind you that they're your pajamas, you knocked me up, none of my regular bedroom attire fits now, and I carry a gun."

"I only wished to say that until this moment, I'd never considered the Grinch sexy. It's a little disturbing, but I kinda like it."

"Weirdo."

"Only for you."

Kate smiles at that. The letter is on the bedside table, and she picks it up, and taps it against her leg. "Let's get this over with?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Castle reaches for his wife and they head for the living room and Martha and answers he never thought he'd get.