Lahat ng Kabanata ng Destined to Love the Twin Brothers: Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 145

Wren turned seventy on a gray Wednesday in February, and she had made her wishes perfectly clear."No party," she told her husbands, three weeks beforehand, over breakfast. "No surprises. No guests. I want one day, entirely to ourselves, and I want to choose how we spend it.""After what we did to Rory?" Declan said. "I would not dare.""You were extremely sneaky about it," Rory said."I was extraordinarily sneaky. But I know better than to try it on her." Declan turned to Wren, and his face was serious. "Tell us what you want, and we'll do it."She considered. She had been thinking about it for weeks, turning the idea over, trying to find words for something she only half understood."I want to open the box," she said. "The walnut one. And read everything in it, together. From the beginning."Neither of them answered at once. Then Rory reached across the table and laid his hand over hers."Of course," he said.They began at nine in the morning, in the living room, with a fire in the

The three people who lived in the small tidy house on the north side of town came to the archive again the following week, by daylight this time, standing uncertainly in the doorway until Wren saw them and crossed the room."Please," she said. "Come in."They were, she judged, in their late thirties. The older of the two women, whose name was Marguerite, was tall and composed, with a teacher's clear, level gaze. The younger, Tess, was small and quick and wore a bright scarf that she twisted constantly in her fingers. The man, Aaron, quiet and broad shouldered, stood slightly behind them both, as though prepared to catch something."We wanted to ask you something," said Marguerite. "If it isn't an imposition.""It isn't.""Is there somewhere we could talk? Privately?"Wren led them to the small office at the back of the workshop, where Declan and Rory were drinking tea and arguing amiably about a crossword. They looked up, and in a single glance, took in the three strangers, and Declan

They married in the garden on Miller Street, under the old apple tree, on a clear October afternoon, exactly two years and four months after Idris had declared his intent on the porch.It had been Eleanor's idea. She had considered a dozen grand venues, and had visited several, and had come home each time with a slightly pinched expression. Finally, over tea one evening, she had said, "I think I want it here. Where I learned to be brave.""Here?" said Wren. "In the garden?""Under the tree. With all of you. Nothing complicated.""It will be an enormous amount of work.""I know," said Eleanor. "I'd like to do some of it myself."And she did. She and Idris built the arbor with their own hands, in Theo's workshop, over six weekends, a plain, graceful frame of oak and ash, joined without a single nail, a design Rory had taught them both, standing patiently at their elbows, saying nothing unless asked.On the morning of the wedding, Wren found her granddaughter alone in the small upstairs