Why can’t we just stay home for Easter?” Tess looked up as her son entered the living room and unenthusiastically dumped his duffel bag next to the couch. “Did you pack something nice for church on Sunday?” “Do I have to go?” “It’s Easter.” “Big deal.” “Yes, it is,” Tess replied firmly. “We’ve never missed church on Easter. The only reason we don’t go every week now is because of my work schedule. But I miss it. A lot.” “I don’t,” Bruce shot back. “It’s boring.” He slouched into a chair, stretched out his long legs and scowled. “Why did you say yes to this, anyway?” he groused. “Three days with an ex-cop principal and an old man—some holiday.” Tess counted to ten—slowly—as she walked down the hall to retrieve her suitcase. When she reached the sanctuary of her room, she took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed. She hadn’t answered Bruce’s question. Mostly because she didn’t know the answer. The invitation had come out of the blue, taking her by surprise.
