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The room was filled with late evening sunlight. The windows faced over a garden shaded by tall trees, a lush oasis in this stark, urban desert. Close to the house was a bluestone patio, surrounded by Japanese maples and cherry trees. There were pots waiting to be planted, and Flora imagined the place in the height of summer, with color cascading from those pots.

Unlike the rest of the downstairs, this room was light and welcoming.

Molly watched her. “Mommy loved the garden.”

Flora felt a rush of hope. At least the child was still speaking to her, even if she was clinging to her sister while she did it. “I love gardens, too. I work with flowers. I could plant those pots for you, if you like?”

“You’re a guest. Guests don’t work in the yard. Please do sit down, Flora.” Izzy’s smile was bright and brittle.

“Yes, sit down, Flora. You’re not planting any pots. This is your night off. When it’s the three of us we eat at the breakfast bar, but we’ve laid the table in your honor.” Jack gestured to the table that was laid neatly with mats and napkins. He didn’t seem to have noticed anything strange about Izzy’s behavior. Flora wondered if she was being oversensitive. No one was entirely themselves the first time they met someone, as she knew only too well.

She sat down at the table and glanced at Jack, desperate for a hint of warmth or connection, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“What would you like to drink?” He was friendly, but that was all.

She admired his self-control and understood it, but still she missed the intimacy that had become part of the time they spent together. It felt strange not to touch him, not to slip her hand into his and feel the warmth of his grip. There was a different kind of tension in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was expectation or threat. The house seemed to be holding its breath.

Maybe Jack had accepted that tension was inevitable. She was the one at fault for assuming this would be easy. Families weren’t something an outsider could easily join. She, of all people, should know that.

Still, she was determined to try. Blending in and pleasing people was something she was good at. She could do this. She knew how to do this.

“I made homemade lemonade.” She produced the bottle from her oversize bag.

“Delicious. Thank you.” Jack reached into a glass-fronted cabinet and pulled out tall glasses. “Girls? Lemonade?”

“Not for me, thank you.” Izzy’s smile was polite as she busied herself preparing food. “I’m avoiding sugar.”

It was the sweetest cut. She’d had worse injuries handling roses, but for some reason this barb hurt more. It reminded her so much of her aunt. Why did you waste time and money making that?

Jack seemed more amused than annoyed. “I didn’t see you holding back on the chocolate yesterday.”

“Which is why I’m not eating or drinking sugar today. I’ll have water.” She strolled to the fridge, glass in hand, and filled it with ice and then water. Virtue shone from her and Jack pushed Molly’s glass toward Flora.

“Lemonade is Molly’s favorite. You’re going to love this, honey.”

Molly didn’t mirror his enthusiasm, but she didn’t reject the idea either so Flora poured the lemonade and held her breath. Was there a scarier audience than a seven-year-old?

Molly sipped cautiously.

Flora didn’t breathe until she saw the child take a second sip.

Molly gave a tentative smile. “It’s yummy.”

It was like being given a promotion and a pay rise at the same time. She wanted to fall on Molly and sob with gratitude, but she managed to restrain herself.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Izzy turned her back and smacked a pan down on the stove. “We’re having veggie burgers. I hope that’s all right.”

“I hate veggie burgers,” Molly said and Flora smiled.

She could sense the personality peeping through the layers of shyness. It gave her hope.

Izzy threw her sister an exasperated glance. “Since when? Last week they were your favorite. And it’s Saturday. We always have veggie burgers on a Saturday.”

“Because Mom liked them. But I hate them.”

“How can you hate something so tasty? Izzy is a genius in the kitchen, Flora.” Jack smiled at his daughter. “You should try her pancakes. When a day starts with those, it’s impossible for it to be a bad one.”


Tags: Sarah Morgan Romance