The duty call would give him the opportunity to see her again, to gauge how she reacted to him. Out of habit, and a little fear instilled by the thought of encountering Ann Sullivan, he wiped his feet outside the kitchen door. His knock was answered by a harried call to come in. When he did, fear turned to pleasure.

Mrs. Williamson was exactly as he remembered. Broad back to the room, big, capable hands stirring something wonderful on the huge six-burner stove. The bowl of black hair atop her head wouldn’t have stirred in an earthquake.

The room smelled of spices and flowers and the mouth-watering aroma of whatever she had in the oven.

“Got any cookies around this place?”

She turned, wooden spoon in one hand. Her wide face creased into a huge welcoming smile. She’d always had a soft spot for lost boys. And bad ones.

“Well, if it isn’t Michael Fury himself. I wondered when you’d come knocking on my door.”

“Ready to marry me now?”

“I might just be.” She sent him a saucy wink. “You’ve grown up handsome enough.”

Because with her he’d always felt at home, he crossed the room, took one of her big hands in his, and brought it to his lips. “Name the time and place.”

“Oh, you’re a one.” From anyone else, the sound that bubbled out would have been called a giggle. “Sit down there, boy, and tell me all about your adventures.” As she always had, always would, when one of her children came to visit, she took cookies out of the bin, arranged them on a plate. “Selling horses now, are we?”

“Yes, ma’am. Just did.” He patted his pocket while she poured his coffee.

“That’s fine, then. And you haven’t found a woman to suit you in all your travels?”

“I’ve been holding out for you.” He bit into a cookie, rolled his eyes dramatically. “Nobody bakes like you, Mrs. Williamson. Why should I settle for less than the best?”

She laughed again and gave him a vigorous slap on the back that nearly sent him headfirst into his coffee. “Oh, you’re a bad one, Michael.”

“So they always said. You still do those apple pies? The ones that bring tears of joy to a man’s eyes?”

“If you behave yourself I might just send you one over.” She went back to her stove and her stirring. “Our little Kayla’s been spending a lot of time down at the stables lately.”

“I’m going to marry her if you keep turning me down.”

“She’s an angel, isn’t she?” She let loose a windy sigh. “Allison, too. Darling girl, sweet as you please and bright as buttons on a new suit. Miss Laura’s done a fine job there. And by herself, too. He never paid any mind to them.”