The train carriage was warm and stifling. Its three passengers leaned their heads wearily against the seats. By the window, a man with streaks of gray hair was snoring lightly, while in the middle the stout old woman puffed out her cheeks and sighed quietly from time to time. In the seat by the door, her back facing the direction of travel, sat a young woman in her mid-twenties. Her warm, almond-colored eyes gazed somewhere far beyond the window. Her delicate, beautiful face looked pensive and sad. The train clattered on monotonously, crawling through the last rocky gorge of the mountains.

Susan Miles tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and leaned her head back against the seat. The beauty of the nature here, and the familiar landscapes, awakened a painful nostalgia. In less than half an hour, she would arrive at the picturesque foothill town of Medea, where her grandfather lived. The town was her refuge every summer before she finished school. Then came the arguments, the family's move to the capital, college, work, and engagement!

Susan frowned and clenched her teeth. She had met Martin during the first year of her specialization in child psychology. He was a French teacher, young, handsome, full of surprises and tenderness. Every woman would fall in love with him! And since love is blind, as people say, in about two months they were engaged. He moved into her apartment.

Susan sighed quietly. After a year, the engagement was broken off, she had matured, and had learned a hard lesson about her own naivety regarding men. Her good heart had trusted a man who tried to live off her while amusing himself behind her back. The memory and shame of being used were still too fresh. Half a year was nowhere near enough to forget such a painful and intense emotional experience.

Susan looked at her watch. There were about twenty minutes until Medea. The man by the window coughed loudly, and the old woman coughed in response. Susan stood up and quietly exited into the corridor in front of the carriage. She opened the window, and the warm July air hit her in the face. She breathed it in deeply. The train made a long turn and entered the plain. As far as she could see, there were green fields and shrubs illuminated by the afternoon sun. She rested her chin on her hands and closed her eyes against the wind. She knew almost every tree and hill in that area, and everything felt so close and familiar.

Her grandfather had decided to put an end to all the family squabbles by summoning the entire clan for his eightieth birthday, which happened to be tomorrow. Susan was probably arriving last, since she'd had to finish out the school term first. As the school psychologist, at the very least she had the long summer holiday ahead of her. She secretly hoped that her return to Medea, after so much time, would erase the painful memory of her broken engagement.

The train whistled, crossing the bridge over the local river. Susan peered out of the window. The first houses of the small town were already appearing. She drew back inside, away from the rushing wind, and sighed. Sweet childhood memories flooded her mind and made her smile. The need to feel like a child again overwhelmed her. She pushed her worries aside and, with a flutter of excitement, went to gather her suitcase and handbag. The train was already slowing as it approached the station.

Susan stepped onto the short platform in front of the small railway station and looked around. Among the handful of people waiting were her parents. She waved to them and hurried toward them. After kisses and hugs, they all headed toward the main street, which, depending on one's point of view, started or ended in front of the station.

"Everyone's arrived, and the house is chaos, Suzie! Your grandfather has decided to throw a fair! Now he wants all the tables moved out to the garden, and he's inviting not just us but half the town!" her mother complained.

"It's his birthday, Mom! Grandpa decides how to celebrate it and with whom!"

"Nonsense! Then it will all fall on us!"

"It won't come to that, Lena!" her father put in. "The old man is still sharp as a tack, remember!"

"And who's going to tidy it all up afterward? It will land on my back again, as always!"

"Mom, I'm here now! Enough worrying! We'll all pitch in. Come on, let's go!"

The three of them walked down the main street. It was lined on both sides with handsome villas and houses, their yards drowning in greenery. Susan took a deep breath of the clean, warm air. The peace and quiet of the small town were exactly what she had always missed in the capital! She let her parents walk ahead, discussing the holiday preparations, and looked around. They passed just opposite the square, with its cinema, its disco, and its row of shops and cafés. With a mix of pleasure and sadness, Susan watched a group of young men spill out of Café Central, laughing. Only some six years ago she herself had tumbled noisily out of those same cafés and restaurants with her friends. Maybe there had been a few changes, but most things remained as she remembered them from before.

She sighed and found herself searching for a familiar face among the few people out in the afternoon heat on the street. Finding no one, she lowered her head in disappointment. As a child she had known nearly half the town, and half the town had known her as the granddaughter of Derek Max, one of its three founding fathers. She shook her head and hurried to catch up with her parents.

They turned left into the next big street, skirting the two large adjoining properties that belonged to her grandfather's neighbors. Wooden and stone fences, arches of greenery, quiet courtyards — the calm of it all seeped into her soul. Finally, they found themselves in front of Grandpa Max's house. Susan stopped on the street, staring at the large three-story house with a white façade and long red terraces. In front lay a small square plot planted with flowers, and the fence was the same ornamented stone wall she remembered.

On the veranda of the house, in a woven rocking chair, sat an old man. Susan's eyes filled with tears. She ran the whole way from the gate to the veranda.

"Grandpa!" she cried happily, and threw herself into the arms of the old man, who had risen to meet her.

She was of average height for a woman, and he stood only a little taller, but he was as sturdy and upright as she remembered him from their last meeting a year ago.

"Hello, my girl!" His reedy voice rang in her ear. His eyes, clouded but still sharp, made the old man look far younger than his years.

"I'm just in time, aren't I?"

"Naturally, little one! My house has been occupied, and this is the only quiet spot left. You see what it's come to — driven out of my own home!"

Susan laughed and stepped back to look at her grandfather.

"You can't lie to me, Grandpa! You really want to be the center of attention and have people around you!"

His old face brightened with a smile that deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and cheeks.

"I've always said that you know me best, my girl! Come in! I couldn't spare a room, but I saved the little guest cottage on the hill just for you!" he winked at her.

Susan raised her eyebrows with feigned seriousness.

"A whole guest cottage to myself, with this many relatives around? Grandpa Max, that's quite the achievement!"

"It cost me two days of nagging!"

"Thank you, Grandpa!" Susan impulsively hugged him, causing his face to tighten with emotion.

"There, there!" he whispered, embarrassed. "I missed you, Suzie!"

"And I missed you, Grandpa!" said Susan sincerely.

"Come on, then! Into the beehive we go!" He took a bracing breath.

Susan nodded and let him go. She smoothed the floral summer dress with her hands and straightened her shoulders. In this battle-ready formation, granddaughter and grandfather entered the house.

The preparation proved absolutely necessary, because the moment they stepped inside she was surrounded by aunts, uncles, and cousins who had come from every corner of the country for tomorrow's celebration. Once a year, on the grandfather's birthday, almost everyone gathered under one roof to see each other and exchange gossip and news. And now on the occasion of the round jubilee, absolutely everyone had come — from the oldest to the babies. Her mother's two older sisters, the twins Dorie and Mary, with their husbands Tom and Eric; their children with families of their own; the two tiny babies of her cousins...

She had barely managed get twenty minutes to freshen up and change before the questions began again, and it all went on late into the night. It was perhaps around one in the morning when Susan finally lay down to sleep.