Beryl hugged her back. “It’s so good to be here. Although I must admit, I thought there’d be more sun. It was sunnier than this in Devon.”
Joyce laughed as she let her sister go. “There will be more sun than you know what to do with, I promise you that. Just wait.”
They stepped out into Joyce’s kitchen. She grabbed the largest of her sister’s bags, the big rolling one, and took it while Beryl managed her carryon.
“My.” Beryl looked around. “This is a smart little cottage, isn’t it? The views are gorgeous. You live here by yourself?”
Joyce nodded. “All mine. Comes with the job. You want to see your room? We can put your things in there then, while you get settled, I’ll make us a nice pot of tea. I have so much to tell you.”
“Do you? I can’t wait.”
Joyce wheeled the big case toward the guest room. “Are you hungry? I don’t suppose you’ve eaten supper.”
“I am, but I don’t want you to go to any fuss.”
“Nonsense.” Joyce pushed the door open ahead of her. “I can whip up some soup and sandwiches quick as you like. How would that be?”
“Perfect,” Beryl replied.
Joyce pushed the suitcase in, then stepped aside. “Here you are.”
“It’s lovely. I won’t be a minute.”
Joyce got to work on their dinner. She had a container of split pea in the fridge, which she’d made earlier that day, knowing full well it was one of her sister’s favorites. Along with that, she made some ham sandwiches. She added a small handful of crisps to each plate, even though Beryl would say she was on a diet and shouldn’t.
When Beryl returned, she’d changed into more leisurely clothing. Joyce had the plates with their bowls of soup and sandwiches on the coffee table. “Do you mind eating there? I thought that would be more comfortable than my little table. Plus, if you sit in the chair, you’ll have a beautiful view of the river. That’s where I usually sit.”
“I don’t want to take your chair.”
“Nonsense. You’re the guest.”
Beryl grinned. “Not to mention I am your older sister, so by all rights, that should be my seat.”
Joyce laughed. “Whatever you say, Berry.” She fixed two cups of tea and brought them over as well, taking a seat on the couch.
Beryl spread a napkin over her lap. “This looks so good. I shouldn’t eat those crisps, though. I’m trying to shift a few pounds.”
Joyce smiled to herself. “It’s only a tiny handful.”
“True,” Beryl said, picking one up. “So what’s all this news you have to share?”
“Well, you know how I told you about Mitch’s son?”
Beryl nodded, crunching away.
Joyce paused for effect. “He showed up today. With ababy.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mitch got up later than usual. Ruthie had twice woken him up with her crying. He didn’t mind. That’s what babies did. He remembered that much from Kyle’s infancy. The second time he’d heard her, he’d jumped out of bed and taken care of her himself, sending a groggy Kyle back to bed with hushed reassurances.
His heart went out to his son. No wonder the kid was worn out, doing all of that himself. Kyle had told him Addison flat-out refused to help, adamant she couldn’t afford to lose sleep and look less than her best for her followers.
What an ignorant, self-absorbed woman. Thinking her followers were more important than her child’s wellbeing.
As Mitch had fed Ruthie in the early morning hours, then changed her and walked the floor with her until she’d gone back to sleep, he had done a lot of thinking. About the future, mostly. Kyle’s and Ruthie’s, to be exact.
A new fear had settled over Mitch in those small hours. The fear that Addison would suddenly decide she wanted Ruthie back. That she would fight Kyle. They weren’t married. In some states, that gave Kyle a disadvantage when it came to parental rights.
