Jake said nothing.

Jake also didn’t take the dripping silverware I was offering him so I looked up to my side to find him staring down at me, unmoving.

“Is something the matter?” I asked.

He gave his head a slight shake and took the silverware, saying, “Nice thing for you to do, honey.”

I shrugged and turned my attention back to the sudsy water. “They liked Gran.”

“They also obviously like you.”

They did and I liked that. I just didn’t like it that they were suffering this way.

I didn’t reply.

“So, how long you gonna be in Magdalene?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

And I didn’t.

I had not called one auction house. I had not called a real estate agent. I had not started sorting through Gran’s things.

What I’d done that day, after deciding the menu, going into town, getting the food and visiting the Weavers was tug on my least nice top and Gran’s wellies and go work in her garden to prepare it to be at rest for the winter. I didn’t know who planted it, as Gran couldn’t actually work out there anymore, and there was far less in it than when she tended it in earnest, but it had been worked that summer.

I’d also made a note that I needed to go to the mall in order to acquire clothing that would be more suitable to tasks such as these.

And then I’d been troubled that I made that mental note because making it made no sense.

I wasn’t going to be gardening in my future.

So why would I buy clothes to do such a thing?

“How are you leaning?” Jake asked as I unplugged the sink in order to set the pans to soaking.

“I need to be in Rome,” I told him.

“When?”

When indeed?

Henry had flown there today so tomorrow would be the best-case scenario.

However, that was impossible.

And strangely, the idea of packing and boarding yet another plane, spending hours imprisoned on it, getting out and heading to yet another hotel, even if that hotel was in the fabulousness of all that was Rome, wasn’t all that appealing.

“I need to be in Paris,” I went on, speaking to myself and not realizing I wasn’t making any sense.

“What?” Jake asked.

“Or, I’m thinking, I should join Henry in Sydney.”

The job in Sydney wasn’t for a month.

But I wasn’t thinking about Sydney, even though I adored Sydney.

No, I was thinking more that I should join him when he was back in LA for a break.

And that break was three months away.

“Josie…what?”

I turned fully to him and looked up into his eyes.

“Boston Stone came here yesterday,” I announced.

His presence did that swelling and heating thing again even as his eyes narrowed and he whispered in a peculiar (but somewhat alarming) sinister tone, “He did what?”

“He wishes to purchase Lavender House,” I shared.

“Yeah.” I heard Ethan call from the table. “He wishes it but Lydie told him to go jump in the Atlantic.”

“She didn’t say that,” Amber contradicted with big sister superiority. “She told him over her dead body.”

I felt my stomach twist as the air again went heavy and Ethan’s eyes sliced to his sister.

“Jeez, Amber, be more stupid, why don’t you?” he snapped, but his voice held a small tremble.

He didn’t need to tell her she was stupid. She was looking at me and her face was pale.

“I’m sorry, Josie,” she said softly.

Wonderful.

Now the children were calling me Josie.

“It’s quite all right,” I said stiffly and turned back to the pots and pans.

I turned on the tap to fill the potato pan with hot water but Jake’s hand came out right after mine and turned it off.

I looked up at him again.

“What did you say to Stone?” he asked.

“I told him I wasn’t prepared to discuss it with him, seeing as he showed up unannounced five days after I lost my grandmother.”

“And are you gonna get prepared to discuss it with him?” he asked and I shook my head.

“No.”

I said it and I was surprised when I did because I hadn’t made that decision until right then.

Even so, I meant it.

“So you’re keeping the house?” Jake asked.

“Heck yeah,” Ethan answered for me and I looked over my shoulder at him. “Lydie said the only person who loves Lavender House more than her is Josie and she’d never let it out of the family.”

At his words, I put a wet hand to the edge of the sink and drew in breath, my mind blanking.

“Babe?” I heard Jake call but I said nothing. Then I felt a hand warm on the side of my neck and saw Jake’s chest in my vision as I heard, “Josie? You okay?”

I tipped my eyes up to him.

“The only person who loves Lavender House more than Gran is me and I’d never let it out of the family,” I whispered. “So yes, to answer your question, I’m keeping the house.”

This was, again, a decision I made right then.

And it was another decision I meant to keep.

I just had no idea how.

Or why.

Lavender House did not fit my life. I couldn’t leave a huge house unattended while I traveled the globe.

I also couldn’t let it go.

Not ever.

Not ever.

Once I died, it would understandably go “out of the family” seeing as I had no children and at my age, never would.

But it would remain in the family until that happened.

“Cool!” Ethan cried and I started, focusing again on Jake who was staring down at me intently, his hand still on my neck. “Totally knew it,” Ethan went on. “This means we get to keep comin’ over but now Josie’ll cook for us.”

“Yeah,” Amber replied with less enthusiasm, then again, it would be difficult to have more than Ethan.

“Babe,” Jake called and since I was already looking at him, I nodded to indicate I was focused on him. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I for some reason shared.

He studied me.

Then he said, very quietly this time, “We’ll talk. Tomorrow. Without the kids.”

Again, for reasons unknown to me, I nodded my agreement.

His hand gave me a squeeze. “Go pour yourself more wine and relax. I’ll finish the pans.”

“I can finish the pans.”

“Babe.” Another squeeze, this one deeper as his face dipped close and his voice dipped low and serious. “What did I say?”

I found this surprising. It was inappropriately overbearing and dictatorial.

It was more surprising when I found myself nodding, slipping out from in front of him and doing what he inappropriately dictatorially told me to do.

This meant I spent the next fifteen minutes before we all retired to the family room to watch TV sipping wine at the kitchen table. But only after I went to go get my phone so I could check Ethan’s answers to his multiplication homework (I was hopeless at math) on the calculator.

He got one wrong out of thirty.

Which meant he was also bright as well as amusing and quite sweet.

And I felt this to be the utter truth even when I asked him to do the incorrect problem again and he counted it out on his fingers with his lips moving.

And I felt this because, I decided, that was adorable too.

* * * * *

It was the end of the evening. We were standing outside close to Jake’s truck and I was addressing Amber.

“I’ll inform your father when Jean-Michel gets back to me,” I told her as she’d cleaned her face with my face wash and I’d taken her photo. Though I wouldn’t text it to Jean-Michel until the next day as it was late, he was in New York and that would be rude.

“Right,” she mumbled.

“It was lovely meeting you,” I went on.

“Same,” she muttered, lifted a hand in an awkward wave and moved to the truck.

She barely started her short journey before Ethan darted forward and gave my waist another hug.

This time, I dropped a hand to his shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he pulled away.

“Super cool to meet you and the food was fah-ree-king awesome!” he declared.

“I’m glad you thought so and it was lovely to meet you as well,” I replied.

He gave me a big smile, a wide wave and hastened to the truck.

Jake filled his place and when he did, he declared, “It was a good night.”

It actually was and it appeared it was so for all of us.

I nodded.

“Tomorrow, nine o’clock. Meet me at The Shack.”

I stared at him, aghast.

I was aghast because The Shack was, well…a shack. It was on the wharf and although I’d heard of it and knew Gran had been there on occasion, I’d also seen it and it was, well…ghastly.

“The Shack?” I asked and he smiled.

“The Shack, slick,” he stated strangely for I couldn’t comprehend why he added the world “slick.” “Nine,” he finished.

“I, uh…perhaps I can make you breakfast,” I suggested.

“You could, but if you did then I wouldn’t get to introduce you to their seafood omelets that are so good they’ll knock you on your ass. And I want you focused on tellin’ me all the shit that’s goin’ on behind those pretty blues and not on cookin’ breakfast.”

Pretty blues?

Was he referring to my eyes?

Just the thought made my stomach again pitch.

“So nine. The Shack,” he ordered.

I sighed before I agreed, “All right.”

He gave me another smile, leaned in and gave me another brush of his lips on my cheek and then he moved back nary an inch before he whispered, “Thanks for a good night.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Even in Lavender House’s dim outside lights, I could see his eyes light with amusement before he shook his head and moved away, saying, “Later, babe.”