Gable over tea.

In the sunroom, Manuel sat in his hand-carved oak chair, reading the paper in the light of open windows.

Alvin set his bag down.

“Do you two need anything?” he asked.

And Carmen looked up, smiling.

“Yes,” she said.

“Come sit down and have some iced tea.” So he did.

The house was still old, the floors still squeaked, the garden still needed weeding.