“Thankfully, I do. Jack would kill us if he were in charge of the meals. I don’t know how he survived on his own.”

“Hey,” Jack protested. “I can do eggs and PB and J.”

“Your eggs are crunchy,” Thierry said, wrinkling her nose.

“Now just a minute.” Jack’s brows rose almost to his hairline.

Gillian stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him on his cheek. “We love you anyway.”

Jack kissed her back, then peeked at his infant son. “My turn to hold Richie.” Jack loosened the baby sling enough to lift the tiny infant into his arms.

Happiness radiated off the pair of them. Elise glanced away and took another sip of water. Why had she agreed to stay with Jack’s family? She should have booked a room at the local bed-and-breakfast—away from this marital bliss.

Gillian ran a profitable business, but all she talked about was her home. Though Elise enjoyed her cheerful disposition, relating to her proved as difficult as conversing with the man in the moon.

Thierry cautiously approached Elise and tugged on her arm.

“What is it, Thierry?” Elise asked.

“Do you want to hold my brother? Dad named him after you.”

Chapter 6

Harry pressed the brakes at Ashford Priory’s gates, and the car slithered to a halt. Sammy sat on top of one of the stone pillars. Harry’s heart leapt inside his chest, and his face split in a wide grin.

“Dad!” The boy jumped to the ground and punched in the code, riding the gate as it lumbered open.

Harry pulled the car forward, but before he could set the brake, his door flew open, and Sammy stood at his side, bright eyes alight with happiness, the cowlick at the back of his sandy hair waving like a flag. He had lost another tooth.

Harry hopped out and grabbed his boy in a crushing hug. Sammy hugged him just as tightly. Clearing his suddenly clogged throat, Harry set the boy down before the situation got too mushy.

“I saw you drive past. Where did you go?” Sammy asked, his gray eyes full of questions.

“I had a passenger to drop off.”

“Who are they staying with?”

Not an idle question, that. Sammy knew just about everyone in the village.

“The Pressley-Coombeses.”

“At Thierry’s house?”

“Who’s Thierry?” Harry asked.

“She’s my friend.”

Everyone was Sammy’s friend, whether they were eight or eighty. “Jack’s a new father. He doesn’t have other children.”

“Jack and Miss Gillian adopted her.”

Ah. “What are you doing down by this busy road?” Harry asked, changing the subject. “Does Gran know you’re here?” The boy had a veritable talent for escapism.

“Charlie said I could wait here as long as I didn’t leave the property.”