Henry felt nervous about seeing Amala, but he felt prepared, and he hoped that his visits would not be too difficult for her. She had insisted that he continue to visit; he was more grateful for that than he could comprehend. In many ways Oliver had become a friend with the characteristics he’d never found in Chit. This wonderful man was very sentimental and analytical—at least he could be at certain times when they got into deep conversation. And the women were all delightful and kind. He looked out the drawing room window of what he’d come to consider his second home and silently thanked God for such a blessing in his life. He was determined to focus on what he did have and not preoccupy himself with what he wanted but couldn’t have.

Henry turned from the window when Oliver entered the room and greeted him with a handshake and then a quick, familiar embrace.

“Good to see you, my boy,” Oliver said. “It’s been nearly a week, hasn’t it? But you did send a message that you had some business to attend to.”

“Yes,” Henry said, and the men both sat down in their usual comfortable chairs across from each other. “But I do believe the estate is running a little more smoothly now, thanks to good overseers.”

“And how is your mother?”

“The same,” Henry reported. “Very cranky,” he added, managing a chuckle. “But I spoke with her doctor; he tells me that, truthfully, he can’t believe she’s remained alive this long, given the many complications of her health. It’s his belief that she’s too stubborn to die.”

“And maybe she is,” Oliver said, and they talked a few minutes—not for the first time—about the complicated emotional impact of the situation between Henry and his mother. Henry felt comforted to hear this good man validate his feelings on the matter. He loved his mother, but he knew it was more a dutiful kind of love, as opposed to feeling any strong affection toward her; she was simply difficult to love, and Oliver understood. He had encouraged Henry to keep doing what he was doing—to visit his mother every day and do his best to see that she was cared for in the best possible way so that he would have no regrets when she did finally pass away.

When that topic ran its course, Oliver glanced at the clock and said, “Viola and Kat are certainly taking their time with all that feminine primping today.” He chuckled. It was a common source of humor for him to tease the women about all the fussing it took for them to even leave their rooms.

“And Amala?” Henry asked, his heart quickening to say her name while at the same time something tightened inside of him at Oliver’s obvious omission of her name.