Brandy sat contentedly in my black leather chair in the great room of Warhead Dale. Relaxed, she listened and sipped hot chocolate, her complexion glowing in the light of the fire. I could see that her mind was fully engaged, not only in the story I was telling, but also in contemplating her adoption. I wanted to know what she was thinking, but did not ask. She came to hear a story from a long time ago because she connected with young JT. She understood him, liked him, and she also had a past, but no idea what it meant, if anything. Would she throw away the life she had with her adopted parents or would she be satisfied with the life she had?
The snow continued to float to the ground. The sudden cold outside fogged the windows and the panes gave off a distinct chill when I stood near the glass. I peered out over the ocean; it was odd seeing the snow pile up on the sloshing waves that washed the sandy beach. The snow on the sand, gathered and pushed by the waves, reminded me of the rim of thick icing around a birthday cake.
To my great relief, the bite of cold vanished in a flash when I rejoined my young companion by the warmth of the fire. My grandson decided to join us, as did a few stragglers who had been in the house when the snow began to fall.