IT was Sunday evening when Mrs. Harlow stepped into her daughter’s house, her handbag tucked neatly under her arm, her posture straight despite the long drive. The familiar scent of the house— warm, lived-in, unmistakably Amelia’s, greeted her before anything else could.
She had barely taken two steps into the living room when a small force collided with her legs.
“Grandma!” Gaddiel exclaimed, his voice ringing with excitement as he jumped up at her.
“Oh my!” Mrs. Harlow laughed, instinctively catching him and steadying herself before she lost balance. “Gad, you have grown so big, my love.” She bent slightly and ruffled his hair, smiling warmly.
Gaddiel beamed, his chest puffing out with pride.
“Yes! Yes! I told Gabriel this, but he wouldn’t believe me. He insists he is the only one
