Turning to Blackie, she squeezed his arm, smiling at him. “Have you enjoyed yourself in Leeds?”

“Oh, I have, sure and I have, Aunt Eileen, and ’tis impressed I am, and ready ter rush right back. ’Tis the Town Hall that impressed me the most, Aunt, and City Square. Oh, and the open market. What a treasure trove that is, filled with stalls selling everything from food ter clothes and shoes and even bikes! Amazing!”

He was so voluble and excited, Eileen couldn’t help laughing, glad he’d enjoyed the trip.

Blackie confided, “I am going back there next Saturday. Would ye like ter come?”

“I think I might,” she answered somewhat gleefully.

Patrick, still consumed by his Racing Form, glanced at her, his attention caught. “Well, I never thought I’d hear you say that. Eileen going to go shopping in the market—that’s something for the books.” Laughter echoed in his words as he threw her an affectionate look.

She was laughing herself, and then turned her attention to the pans. “Dinner’s ready. Go and wash up, and then I’ll serve.”

The two men left, and Eileen stirred the soup, poked a fork in the carrots and potatoes to check if they were cooked. Yes, they were ready, she knew that. Opening the oven door, she looked at the pie. That needed a few more minutes. Her timing was spot-on.

Moving into the parlor, she checked the table she had set earlier. Everything was in its place. Swinging around, she went to the kitchen counter and began to slice the loaf of freshly baked bread she had made that morning.

For Blackie, these dinners Eileen made were truly a treat. As he sipped the soup, he marveled at it. It was flavorful and brimming with carrots, potatoes, parsnips and shallots. The bread was soft, warm and delicious.

Blackie tried to slow himself down, began to eat the soup in small spoonfuls, realizing his aunt and uncle ate less quickly than he did. He felt embarrassed by the way he attacked the food, gobbled it almost.

A few minutes later, Eileen said, “There’s plenty of soup, Blackie love, if you want another bowl.”

“Oh no, thanks, Aunt Eileen, I’m doing well,” he answered swiftly, and put his spoon down, his embarrassment lingering.

“What’s in the oven?” Patrick asked curiously.

“Bacon-and-egg pie,” his wife responded. To her nephew she said, “Do you like that dish?”

Blackie glanced at her and admitted, with a small smile, “I’ve never had it before, but since yer the best cook I know, sure and ye are, I’m certain I’ll enjoy it.”

And he did. He also devoured the chunky stewed apples, which Eileen brought out after the bacon-and-egg pie. At one moment, he said, with great sincerity, “I’ve never had a dinner like this in my life. Thank you.”