Grace paused on the front porch of her small white house, having come out to get the mail. As usual, Jared beat her to it. “Noel?” “Yep.” Her son held up the letter. “I can read that much.” She laughed and took the pages from him. “Come on, sit on the swing and I’ll read it.” He ran up the steps, his sneakers pounding against the wood and then skidded to a stop on the swing. He plunked down and gave her a raised brow that so reminded her of Noel. Grace sat in a rocker and read aloud, “Dear Son. I will indeed be flying to the States with your Grandmother Rosalind. If it is agreeable with your mother, we should love to stay with you after the ceremony, as mother has several meetings and we’ve booked our rooms in advance. If it is no bother to Grace, we will come directly there as soon as we are done with our commitments.” “He sounds funny,” Jared cut in. “Formal you mean?” Grace nodded and smiled. “They probably speak with better grammar than we do, and much less slang.”
