Because he wanted to be at the house before the movers arrived, Wylie drove through the night, pulling into Earlston early Tuesday morning. He stopped at one of the few fast-food outlets to get coffee and a breakfast burrito to take with him and continued on to his new home.
It looks just the way I remember. A thought that amused him on some level as, knowing his grandfather, he knew nothing would have changed in the two years since he’d last seen it.
There was a driveway with cracked pavement, set between low slopes covered with grass. At the end of it was the garage, which took up what he thought of as the ground floor of the house. He parked in front of it, got out, and took the steps, two at a time, that went up to the small porch and the front door. He had the keys for the house, an
