“I’ll see about getting you some new sunglasses. Have a nice afternoon, my dear.” Amalie sighed heavily. Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes filled with tears. She had to grab hold of the edge of the table when she felt her husband return and stand behind her chair to slide the glasses on and settle them behind her ears. “I’ll see you at dinner. Dress nicely.”

“I will. Enjoy your afternoon,” she said woodenly.

The moment Amalie heard the engine of her husband’s Porsche growl to life, she was up and off her chair and sprinting for her room. She banged open the door and looked everywhere for her maid, Rosalee. She motioned her to come closer and whispered in her ear. The little maid nodded and whispered back. They eyed each other, their eyes misting over at what Amalie had been going through for the last seven and a half years. And now, finally, with the help of the little maid, she was ready to bolt.

Both women blessed themselves, then hugged each other.

“Please, God, let Rosalee make it happen. Please, God!”

Chapter 1

The present day.

As the windshield wipers fought the waterfall of rain, Annie de Silva tried in vain to see where Myra was taking them. “This was not one of your better ideas, Myra,” she grumbled.

“No, it wasn’t, but you did agree, so keep quiet and let me pay attention to my driving. One more block, and we’ll be there. Do you think you can keep quiet that long?”

“No one likes a smart-ass, Myra,” Annie continued to grumble.

“You were the one who said you were sick and tired of being housebound because of a week of rain. You also said you were sick and tired of listening to Charles and Fergus babbling on about writing their memoirs that no one was going to read. Well, that’s not quite true, you and I would be forced to read them.” Myra laughed.

Annie gave up trying to see through the driving rain and slumped back against the seat. “Men’s memoirs are always boring. Now, if you and I wrote our memoirs, that’s a whole other story. Ours would be runaway best sellers. Maybe we should think about that, Myra.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t, Annie. Okay, we’re here. I think I changed my mind about a pedicure. I’m just going to get my nails done. If you want to go ahead with the pedicure, I’ll wait for you. As it is, we don’t have an appointment and are going in as walk-ins. Maybe they won’t even be able to take us today.”

Still grumbling, Annie said, “Trust me, we are the only fools out here in this weather. If the rain keeps up, we’re going to need a boat to get around. Are we going to lunch after we get our nails done?”

“We can, but remember, we’re in the village, not town, so we’re limited as to where we can go. The Tea Shop is just two doors away. I don’t want to drive any farther, Annie.”