"Hey, I'll take you to Birchwood College tomorrow," Ronan said to Janice with a casual shrug. "I’ve got a meeting there myself, so it works out." Lately, Ronan found any excuse to head over to Birchwood not just tolerable but downright welcome.
Janice frowned, and the lines of worry were etched into her face. "I'm just afraid he won't talk to me even if I go."
"Don't sweat it. I've got your back," Ronan reassured her.
If Harold clammed up, there was always Cordelia. Ronan had a hunch she was mixed up in this somehow.
"Dad, are we going to Birchwood College again? Does that mean we'll see Mom?" Callum asked, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Looks like it, sport."
Callum clapped his hands in glee. "We have to see her. We just have to!"
The next day, around noon, Ronan, Janice, and Callum arrived at the college. Harold had mentioned grabbing lunch, but Ronan wouldn't hear of Harold footing the bill. Instead, Ronan treated them to a spread at the Grand Hotel.
"What's the deal?" Ronan was puzzled. Harold was a level-headed kid who always had his act together. Sure, he had a thing for Cordelia, but once he caught wind of her history with Ronan, he backed off like a gentleman. Ronan couldn't hold a grudge against the boy, not when he showed such integrity.
"It's nothing. Drop it!" Harold snapped, his eyes glued to his plate, pushing food around with his fork.
Ronan had a feeling that even if he grilled Cordelia, she wouldn't spill the beans, but it had to involve her, somehow.
Stepping out into the corridor, he dialed Petra's number, seeking insight.
The moment Petra's phone rang, and she saw it was Ronan, her world seemed to brighten. Her voice trembled with excitement as she answered.
"You're in Birchwood?" she inquired first.
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