As they all waved goodbye, Bette and Tina couldn’t wait to get home. Peggy took Angelica home with her; she wanted to spend more time with her before jetting back to New York and Alexander would be spending the night out with his friends. Even though they were sad to not have their baby girl, they were excited to have the house to themselves for the night. Tina couldn’t wait to develop her pictures the next day. She had a few she wanted to frame and a few to send to her brother. As they turned into their driveway, an unfamiliar silhouette moved on their front porch.

“Who the hell is that,” Bette asked, to which Tina shrugged.

“Shane isn’t that short, normally she’s sitting on the steps.”

“Hey, whoever you are, you need to leave,” Bette called out as soon as she got out of her car. She got no answer. As she moved closer, she grabbed the person by the arm.

“I’m gonna call the police if you don’t leave.”

“No please don’t,” the girl said, and Bette saw piercing blue eyes and blonde, disheveled hair.

“Who are you,” Tina asked, coming up the walkway.

“It’s me Aunt Tina.”

“Me,” she repeated and grabbed the girl and looked into her eyes, “Cassandra?”

“Yeah Aunt Tina, it’s me Cassandra.”

“Oh my God,” Tina whispered, and hugged the girl tight. She wept as she held the girl, Bette stood there in awe.

“Tee, let’s go inside,” Bette said and ushered them in. They stood in the doorway and Bette flicked the lights on.

“Let me look at you sweetheart,” Tina said and held her at arm’s length. She had a small nose and mouth like Tina, blonde hair like both her and her brother, but sparkling blue eyes like her mother. She was almost as tall as Tina, wearing her chucks, skinny jeans and a shirt with a rock band on the front. She had only one small bag with her and a neatly wrapped box set next to it.

“What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why?”

“I had to leave, I had to find you. We got all your letters, and pictures. I found them when I was eight. I don’t think dad ever read them once, but I assumed mother did, they were opened, hidden under her side of the bed. I never knew if she sent responses, but I always read them, and I took a few of the pictures. She never noticed they were gone, and if she did, she never said anything,” she explained as they sat on the couch, “it’s funny how you can forget someone so easily. But reading your letters, seeing the pictures of you and Bette, I got to know you again. I never realized how much I missed you.”