His expression changed when he saw the elderly woman.
For a moment, he seemed unable to breathe.
“Mom?”
Margaret slowly lifted her head.
Seventeen years had passed since she had last seen her son in person.
He had been twenty-one then, lean and exhausted, with a secondhand suitcase and an acceptance letter to a graduate engineering program.
Now he was thirty-eight.
His shoulders were broader.
His face was older.
His dark hair carried the faintest traces of gray.
But his eyes were exactly the same.
Margaret tried to smile.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Noah ran down the steps.
He stopped when he saw the water dripping from her hair, the soaked cardigan clinging to her shoulders, and the bag lying at Claire’s feet.
He turned toward his bride.
“Did you do this?”
Claire released the hose.
“Oh, Noah, thank goodness. She’s been causing a terrible scene.”
He stared at her.
“I asked you a question.”
Claire glanced at the guests.
Then she lowered her voice.
“She was trespassing. I was trying to protect our wedding.”
Noah looked back at Margaret.
His mother was shivering.
He removed his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Then he knelt and picked up her bag.
“Mom,” he whispered, “what happened?”
Margaret tried to answer.
