“Do you like Uncle Spencer?” Adara asked suddenly.
Meryl blinked.
Percy looked interested now, too.
“I do,” she said, because there was no point trying to lie under that kind of direct scrutiny.
“Good,” Adara said with a small nod, as though Meryl had passed some necessary test.
As if he had been summoned, the door behind them opened, and Spencer stepped out carrying two glasses of wine. “Refill?”
“Yes, please,” Meryl said, finishing her first glass. “Thornberg wine is far too easy to drink.”
“And I see you are making friends?” he said. “How are you guys doing?”
“They’ve been giving me a very thorough tour,” Meryl said as Spencer handed her one of the glasses. Their fingers brushed, and the look he gave her was brief but enough to bring back, in one hot sweep, the memory of his mouth on hers in the kitchen.
“We’ve been showing Meryl the flowers and herbs and bugs,” Percy said, then turned as the door opened and Isla called the children back inside.
“Coming!” Percy called, and he reached for Adara’s hand as they both headed inside.
“They’re great kids,” Meryl said as she watched them go. “And it’s been a joy to look at the courtyard through their eyes.”
“I know what you mean,” Spencer said wistfully. “For so long, it’s what’s been missing from our family. Then my brothers met their ma… partners, and they came with kids. Seeing my mom with them...”
He stopped talking and looked away.
“You’re a tight-knit family,” she said, looking up at the stars and giving him a chance to compose himself.
“We are.” He nodded. “I suppose our family has been here for so long, and we all think about what we have learned from those who have come before us and want to pass on that knowledge.”
“Like carpentry,” she murmured.
The thought came quietly and caught her off guard. Children. Family. A future that stayed in one place long enough to put down roots. She had once imagined that for herself, too, before she trained herself not to.
“Yes.” He nodded. “But if it doesn’t happen, I’m going to have nieces and nephews to teach.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, after the smallest pause, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. The gesture was so natural that Meryl leaned into him without a thought.
They stood together, her head resting on his shoulder, in the lush courtyard. Just the two of them under the stars.
“There you are,” Eleanor called from the doorway. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming,” Spencer called.
Meryl chuckled. “You sounded like Percy.”
Back inside, the long table somehow felt less daunting than it had before. Meryl found herself seated between Spencer and Eleanor. No one seemed to be seated in any particular order; they all knew each other, and the conversation flowed light and easy.
Dinner evolved the way good family meals always did, with dishes passed, interruptions layered over one another, half-finished stories resumed three minutes later, and no one seeming to mind that conversation moved somewhat erratically.
By the time the first plates had been cleared, Meryl had stopped feeling as though she needed to get through the evening and started to simply enjoy it.
Eleanor asked about Pine Cottage while passing her another spoonful of vegetables.
“How is it, really?” she asked. “Not the polite answer.”
Meryl smiled despite herself. “A lot of it is still awful. But less awful than it was.”
