“Do you think I’ll be the fastest swimmer, Dad?”

“I think you’ll be the bravest,” Dave said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.

“Will there be a bouncy house? Will Aunt Jo bring her dog? Do you think I can sleep next to Milo?”

Timmy was buzzing with joy.

When we pulled up to the iron gates, his jaw dropped. The mansion rose before us like something from a movie. Betsy stood on the front steps, perfectly dressed in her cream linen suit.

“There’s my big boy!” she called, opening her arms wide.

Timmy ran to her, and she hugged him tight. For a moment, I felt that familiar warmth. Betsy had always been good to us. Different from my own mother, sure, but loving in her own way.