After taking a quick shower, Justin sat in Molly’s new room, waiting for her to finish getting washed up. His shower felt good, but he hated the fact that he had to put his old clothing back on. Sighing, he wanted to curl under the covers and sleep… even better if Brian would be in that bed across the hall with him. Standing up, he heads over to the window and looks out at the garden. It was a beautiful home, but the inside was definitely in need of some work; it was too cold and dark. He decided that if there was an art store in town, he would do something to Molly’s room in order to brighten it up. Maybe he could even pick up another lamp somewhere? He didn’t care too much that his room was equally as dark and unwelcoming. It had a bed, dresser, desk, closet and a nice sized bathroom: he really couldn’t complain; and the fact that he faced the Loire River made it at least a little more comforting. Touching the windowpane, he can feel the heat of the sun against his fingertips. He suddenly remembers sitting out in the garden with his mother. She would be sitting under a shady part of the garden, drinking tea while he would be running around and throwing pieces of bread to the birds flying down for a visit. He felt the emptiness fall through his stomach and his knees began to weaken. He missed his mother. Just thinking about her made his heart hurt in such a way he never thought possible. Closing his eyes, he can picture his father standing by the pool, laughing and smiling with his mother… the good times. They used to be so much in love. But love was a funny thing. Opening his eyes, he stares back down at the empty garden. The lush green grass, flowers and vegetable patch showed a sense of elegance to it and gave Justin a sudden urge to paint. But as quickly has the feeling had come; it died at the same speed. Swallowing hard, he wasn’t sure if he could ever bring himself to paint again. He knew he needed to. He had to. It was the only way to cope. But that was the reason: he didn’t think he could do it. Cope. Cope meant to accept. Was he ready to accept this new life? His uncle didn’t want them there: that was obvious. What could they do? What were their options? Were there options? Justin was too tired to think. The bathroom door opens and Molly slowly comes out, “I still feel yucky.” He nods, “Me too.” She tries to brush her wet hair between her fingers, but gives up with an eye roll. “You look fine, Molly,” he says, and it’s true. She was twelve, she could get away with looking like a mess. “No I don’t,” she counters. Sitting down on the bed, she asks, “What’s going to happen to us if Uncle Richard doesn’t want us?” Shit. Justin didn’t want to think about, much less talk about this, at the moment. “He’s mourning too, Moll. Don’t take it personally.” She nods, looking around, “Did Mom and Dad used to stay in this room?” Again he feels the pain in his heart, “I don’t remember.” And that bothered him, because all he could remember was playing in the garden and going to the river and visiting tourist sites and just general feelings of content. But he was just a child. A naïve child. There had to be more to it than that, but he couldn’t remember. Exhaling slowly, she gets up and looks out the window, “I miss home.” Justin feels the burn in his throat, “Me too.” He missed Daphne. He missed Liberty Ave. And he missed Brian so much he couldn’t breath. Looking at his sister, he calls, “Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m sure there is a kitchen somewhere in here.” Smiling softly, she stands up and takes his hand, “This place is pretty big.” He nods, “Yeah, but the staircase is in the center, so if we ever get lost, we just need to look for the stairs.” The two slowly make their way down the stairs, lost in their own thoughts. Looking around the landing, Justin leads Molly down one of the corridors. “Mmmm, reception room, I guess?” Glancing at Molly, she nods in agreement and they continue their journey. Finally they reach the kitchen and find Al standing against the counter sipping coffee and reading a paper. “Hey, Kids, I thought you’d might want to go downtown and get some clothing and whatever else kids these days need,” he adds with a smile. Justin looks around, “Where’s our uncle?” Al puts down his paper and sets his mug in the sink, “Went out. You’ll see him later; come on, let’s go before traffic starts to suck.” Frowning, Justin and Molly follow Al back into the car. Once they are moving, Justin states, “He didn’t seem very happy to see us.” Al shrugs, “He’s has a lot on his plate.” “He’s sad about what happened?” Molly asks. She knew that her father and uncle Richard were not on speaking terms, but that was all she knew. He shrugs again, “Yeah, I guess that’s something too.” Justin frowns, “What do you mean?” Al jokes, “Shit, you ask a lot of questions.” Justin blinks, “Yes, I do.” He waits for Al to say something. When he doesn’t, Justin reintegrates, “So what happened to my uncle?” Because he knew something had to have happened. This was not the uncle he had remembered. His uncle was happy and carefree and always smiling and, well, happy. Al is silent for a moment, and then asks, “What kind of stores do you kids want to go to?” “A clothing store,” Molly answers quickly. Defeated, Justin looks out the window, requesting softly, “An art store would be nice too.”