Milly added a few more herbs. “Like we did. This reminds me of that time we stayed with you in LA and you didn’t want to go out to eat because someone always recognized you, so I cooked in your kitchen. You didn’t know where anything was kept, and most of your pans were unused.”

Nicole laughed. “I remember that time too. You complained that my knives weren’t sharp enough.” But what she really remembered wasn’t Milly creating magic in her kitchen with its ocean view but what happened afterward. On the terrace. She pushed that memory aside and leaned in to take a closer look at the sourdough. “That looks amazing. Is that from the local bakery?”

“Only if you count me as the local bakery. I make it. Which I shouldn’t, because baking isn’t doing anything for my waistline. But it does a lot for my stress levels, and that’s my priority.” Milly slid the chunks of bread into the oven. “You probably don’t want carbs, and that’s fine. I can serve yours without.”

Nicole’s stomach rumbled for the first time in weeks. “I’ll eat whatever you’re having. And I know it will be better than anything I’d have in a top restaurant.”

Milly removed chicken breasts from the fridge and heated some oil in a pan. “Do you really never cook for yourself?”

“Mostly I order room service.”

“I mean when you’re at home.”

Nicole watched as Milly rubbed the chicken with oil and herbs.

“I haven’t spent a single night in my home since the intruder. I’ve been living in hotels.” She’d expected Milly to look shocked, but she hadn’t expected to see the sympathy.

“That must have been hard.”

Nicole shrugged. “They were pretty nice hotels, and I was on location most of the time anyway, so it’s not as dramatic as it sounds.”

“But you should feel safe in your own home. I’m starting to understand why you’re so jumpy.”

“That’s me. Jumpy. Does Zoe cook with you?”

“Yes, when she is around. There’s something about preparing food side by side that is conducive to conversation.”

“You were the same with your mother and Nanna Peg. Remember when we used to make cupcakes?” Nicole felt a rush of warm memories. “How is Nanna Peg?”

“She’s great. She’s staying with my mother at the moment while her roof is fixed, but she’s hardly ever there. She hikes with a group four times a week.” Milly adjusted the heat under the pan and added the chicken. “We could do that if you like?”

“You’re suggesting we hike with eighty-year-olds?” Nicole smiled at the thought and Milly laughed too.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind, but it would be interesting. Alternatively we could pick a quiet trail where no one will see you.”