"Thank you for flying Delta Air Lines." I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up, stretching my arms high in the air. All of the sudden I knew why people complained about jet lag. Not only was the flight from Tennessee to Oregon long and boring, now I was sick. What a vacation!

"Go ahead." A middle aged woman motioned, stepping back to make way for me in the isle.

"Thank you so much." I smiled weakly, stepping into the slowest moving chain of people in the history of man. Once I was finally in the airport I was frustrated. I didn't know who or what I was looking for. Uncle Roger definitely couldn't drive himself there to get me, but I had no clue as to whom would pick me up. After a few minutes, I gave up, plopping down in a chair and pulling out my compact mirror. I couldn't help but notice how much I resembled my father. Those same squinty dark brown eyes, dark blond hair with trails of gold in each lock, and a tiny button nose. A sadness pierced my heart, but quickly disappeared as I forced myself to realize that my daddy was in a better place now.

"Are you Gwendolyn Carter?" A voice startled me. Stuffing my mirror into the pouch on my backpack, I looked up to a tall and slender boy with long dark hair. I couldn't help but notice the blond bangs that framed his square face.

"Not if you're an escaped convict." I mumbled, looking him up and down. Holes covered his light blue jeans and it was obvious that his shirt had earlier been at the bottom of a heap.

"My name's Scott." He continued.

"That's great." I said, a sliver of sarcasm creeping through my words.

"Roger sent me for you." He explained.

"Oh really? Are you working for him as some kind of community service project? 'Cause I have mace." I questioned, clutching my bag.

"I've never been arrested, and I'm not going to steal your back pack." He sighed.

"So you've never been caught?" I questioned jokingly.

"Something like that. Look, I'm just the neighbor, and he's not paying me for this, so try not to be too much of a pain." Scott said irritated. "Now come on."

I stood up and allowed him to lead me towards luggage pick up. He gathered my bags together and carried them out to the parking lot. I felt my jaw drop as he tossed them into the back of a 1999 Dodge Ram.

"What, did you think I would be driving a Pinto?" He laughed, noticing my shock. Feeling embarrassed about my rudeness now, and earlier, I sat up into the pick up with out another word.

"Uncle Roger?" I called into the seemingly empty Victorian house. The furniture looked like it was placed in the living room straight from The Depression, but it was in good shape. My eyes caught a grand piano sitting in the corner. It looked new, barely used. As I walked closer I saw my picture, framed and sitting on top of it. There were classical books sitting on the bench. I started to flip through one.

"My sweet Gwendolyn." My uncle's voice startled me, and I dropped the book. Replacing it, I turned to see Roger coming toward me at high speeds in an electronic wheel chair.

"Hi Uncle Roger." I smiled, leaning down to give him a hug.

"What a beautiful young lady you've grown up to be. You sure will make some fine fellow a happy man some day. Isn't she just heavenly, Scott?"

"Yeah, she's very pretty." Scott mumbled. I could feel my face redden also. Whether he meant that or not, it was quite embarrassing to hear a guy speak of you that way to your face. Especially when he resembled Taylor Hanson.

"Bring your brothers over for dinner tonight. I want them all to meet my lovely niece." Uncle Roger instructed, "Gwendolyn will make spaghetti. Won't you dear?"