Having bathed and changed into sweater-topped pajamas, Cat stood at her bedroom window, her mug of tea cooling between her hands, and watched the rain beat against the glass.She should have been tired; her body was tired, but her mind wouldn’t rest.It had been a long day—her first real day in this beautiful, complicated place—and she could still feel the drama in her bones.
It hadn’t been an easy day.The tension had at times been nearly unbearable.But the walk with Rhys had helped, his conversation had helped, the girls’ awkward apologies over dinner had helped.Soon, she’d be in bed and, if all went well, tomorrow she’d wake up and do this again.Hopefully with a lot less drama.
Tonight, making dinner, she’d thought of her grandmother, and how when Cat was struggling as a girl, her grandmother would find ways to distract her.Her grandmother Betty would suggest they bake, or go see a movie, or go window shopping.And then other times her grandmother just held her as Cat wept, crying for the parents and home she’d lost.
Gradually, Cat had settled in, and gradually she accepted the love and security her grandmother offered.It took a year or two, but eventually, Grandmother Betty became her world, and her best friend, which only made her loss during Cat’s senior year of college more devastating.
One phone call, one quiet funeral, and Cat was on her own again.
Cat finished college on autopilot and even as her friends began accepting jobs, Cat just wanted to get away, as far from Michigan as possible.Graduate school and London sounded like a good escape plan, and it had been.Thankfully, she’d met Sarah almost right away and London had been everything Cat had hoped and more.
But now she was nearing the end of her time in England, and this job was her ticket—literally—to get her home.She wasn’t looking forward to it, but Cat couldn’t run away from reality forever.She had things to do in Kalamazoo, decisions to make, and hopefully once back in the States, she’d settle into the life she would lead there.
First, though, came the holidays, this family, and helping get Rhys and the girls through what was clearly a difficult time.
Just thinking of the day she’d spent, she pictured Olivia’s quick shy smile, Jillian’s wary gaze, and Rhys’s deep voice when he’d said thank you earlier, so gruff but sincere, so much like the man himself.
Cat turned out the light and climbed into bed, setting the now cold tea on her nightstand.From downstairs, she heard a phone ring, and then Rhys’s voice as he answered.
Suddenly, Olivia’s voice rose, carrying, “Mummy!I miss you.”
Cat blinked at the wash of bittersweet emotion.
Mummy.Mommy.Mom.
The word slid through the floorboards and lodged in her chest.Some losses didn’t soften with time.
Chapter Six
The cottage wasquiet when Cat awoke, but downstairs the kitchen was warm, and the fire was burning with fresh logs in the hearth.The kitchen smelled of freshly brewed coffee and toasted bread.A folded note sat propped by the sugar bowl in Rhys’s neat handwriting.
At the house.Working in the study this morning.Back after lunch.The girls are yours until then.– R.
Cat reread the line,The girls are yours, thinking that those words were both reassuring and terrifying and poured herself a cup of coffee, bracing herself for the day.
Olivia padded in first, hair wild, wrapped in her blanket like a cape.“It’s snowing!”she cried, rushing to the kitchen window.
Cat had milk for morning hot chocolate already warming on the stove.“I saw,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and watching Olivia at the window.It was easy to like the young girl, easy to be around her.“It’s supposed to snow for the next couple of hours.”
Jillian appeared moments later, already dressed, her braid perfect, and expression guarded.“Where’s my father?”
“Working up at the big house,” Cat said.“He left early.”
Jillian made a small sound that might have been agreement, might have been disapproval, and sat across from her sister.
“The hot chocolate is just about ready.Are we doing marshmallows or no marshmallows?”
Olivia pulled out a chair at the table “Marshmallows.”
Jillian struggled to answer.“Fine.Whatever.”
“But you like marshmallows, Jilly,” Olivia said before looking at Cat.“Give her a lot.That’s how she likes it.More marshmallows than chocolate.”
Cat gave the child a warm smile and carried the mugs to the table.For a few minutes, the only sounds were the soft clink of spoons and the low hum of the Aga.
Then Olivia glanced to the window again.“Do you like snow, Cat?”
Cat hesitated.“That’s a complicated question.”
