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good woman. She is loyal and supportive, and she has stuck out some tough times with Matt. They’ve built a good life together, a successful life, and he is aware he didn’t do it alone. During one of those tough times, after about four years together, she gave him an ultimatum, and Matt had to think long and hard about whether he was willing to lose another person he loved.
    After losing all faith in marriage and never planning to have kids, here he is a husband and the father of two gorgeous girls who are the center of his world. They are the real reason he didn’t want to come; the thought of leaving them for a week is physically painful. He knows the girls will be fine; his mum will be there to help Julia out. But not hearing their giggles every day, not being able to gaze at their beautiful faces makes his heart hurt. Emma is eleven now, and she is dark like him, brown eyes, long curly brown hair, tall, athletic, artistic, and smart as can be. Rosalind is seven and every bit of her mother. Rosie, as he calls her, is petite and fair, and her eyes are blue with tiny gold speckles scattered in them. She is quiet and reserved, so gentle and loving. He sighs, deeply missing them both. He cannot wait to wrap up this business and get home to his girls. Tuesday can’t come fast enough.
    Earlier this afternoon, Matt sat in a small chapel two hours north of Harptree in a place called Towbridge Green, greeting a few strangers who came to pay their respects to the wooden box of cremated remains that sat on the altar. Mr. Jones, the solicitor, gave him some background information about his father, a quiet man who had owned a small shop in the town. He never remarried, never had any other children, and left everything to Matt. Deep down, Matt hoped that maybe there was a letter somewhere from his father, something to explain why he had abandoned him, but there is nothing. He is leaving with the same questions he came with, possibly more. It reinforces to Matt how important his daughters are, and hownothing will tear him away from his commitment to them.
    The funeral was pre-arranged by his father, and Mr. Jones is handling any outstanding legal arrangements necessary for the estate. After the service today, Mr. Jones will be privately tending to the interment of the remains, and on Monday, Matt has an appointment with him to finalize some paperwork in London. After that, he is free to return home.
    Finally removing the key from the ignition, he opens the car door and steps onto the gravel. The pebbles grind against the soles of his shoes, making a crunching sound. It feels good to stretch his long legs; he’s been cooped up in the stuffy car for the past couple of hours. He attempts to shake out the creases in his black dress pants while removing his tie and tossing it into the back seat. Releasing the top two buttons of his shirt in an effort to look more casual, he pulls his fingers through his thick curly hair, trying to tame the wild locks without much success. Closing the car door, he presses the remote, making it beep as he strides toward The Swan’s entrance, pulling on his suit jacket as he walks.
    It takes a couple of moments for his eyes to adjust to the lighting inside; the dance floor to his left is full of dancers of various ages. He spots Diana in the middle, surrounded by faces he doesn’t recognize, and he is surprised that she hasn’t changed at all. He smiles warmly, remembering the last time he saw her, which was in Australia in July of 1992. She was there on a six-month travel visa during a time when she and Terry had split up. Dihad been in Sydney for a month before she found Matt’s number in the local phone book, and she had continued to badger him until he finally caved in and met her for a drink right before she left to go back home. They met in a bar down by the harbor; it was the only time he’d reconnected in person with someone from his past. They were both in an awful mess, but if he hadn’t met