His brother moved to run a hand through hair, recalled the presence of a cap, put both hands behind his back. His father took a breath, and glanced at his mother. Water dripped from roof-corners and eaves.
“Oh, Peter.” That was his mother, eyes affectionate, stepping forward. “We were hoping…we thought…if you wanted to come for breakfast…to come over, or to go up to Cade’s place…we mean both of you.” She smiled at Nerein. “I’d like to get to know you. My son’s hero.”
“You listened to Cadence’s opera,” Nerein said, “didn’t you? We’re not them.”
“No, but…” Annie Jones held out a hand to him. “We did listen. And you’re part of his life. Clearly. Which means you’re part of the family.”
Nerein took the hand, rather astonished but without hesitation.