“The one and only,” said Marion Morgan Bell.
“With the scars to prove it.”
“Isaac, what a terrible thing to say.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“Isaac, really,” Marion replied, with a shake of her head.
The little boy clinging to the back of the chair interrupted, “Was there really a Jack the Ripper?”
“Yes, he truly existed,” Isaac said. “A very evil man who was far more nasty than Grandma could show in the movie.”
“But you socked him good, didn’t you, Grandpa?”
“He certainly did, and then some.”
“Marion, it’s just . . .” Isaac paused as he rose from the chair. “It’s what I said all those years ago.”
Marion gave him a quizzical look.
“‘A renewal.’ Let’s open a bottle of Billecart-Salmon Brut Rosé. Just you and me, after Archie and Lillian pick up the children.”
Marion smiled at her silver-haired hero.
“I promised you another fifty years. Let’s celebrate to many more.”
Then swept her into his arms and kissed her.