“I bet you do. Your family’s been running the crab house for generations.”

“Crab house?” Sybill interrupted.

“Picking, packing, shipping.” Grace lifted a hand. “Odds are, if you’ve had crab while you’ve been here, it came to you via my father’s company. But I’ve never been involved in the business end.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t handle your own business.” Anna took a chunk of mozzarella out of the refrigerator and began to grate it. “A lot of people out there are more than willing to pay for good, reliable, and trustworthy domestic services. They don’t want to spend what little free time they might have cleaning the house, cooking meals, separating laundry. Traditional roles are shifting—don’t you agree, Sybill? Women can’t spend every spare second of their time in the kitchen.”

“Well, I would agree, but . . . well, here you are.”

Anna stopped, blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. She looked, Sybill thought, like a woman who should be dancing around a campfire to the sound of violins rather than cozily grating cheese in a fragrant kitchen.

“You’re right, absolutely.” Still chuckling, Anna shook her head. “Here I am, while my man lounges in front of the TV, deaf and blind to anything but the game. And this is often the scene on Sundays around here. I don’t mind. I love to cook.”

“Really?”

Hearing the suspicion in Sybill’s voice, Anna laughed again. “Really. I find it satisfying, but not when I have to rush in from work and toss something together. That’s why we take turns around here. Mondays are leftovers from whatever I’ve cooked Sunday. Tuesdays we all suffer through whatever Cam cooks, because he’s simply dreadful in the kitchen. Wednesdays we do takeout, Thursdays I cook, Fridays Phillip cooks, and Saturdays are up for grabs. It’s a very workable system when it works.”

“Anna’s planning on having Seth take over as chef on Wednesdays within the year.”

“At his age?”

Anna shook back her hair. “He’ll be eleven in a couple of weeks. By the time I was his age, I could make a killer red sauce. The time and effort it takes to teach him and to convince him he’s still a male if he knows how to make a meal will be worth it in the end. And,” she added, sliding wide, flat noodles into the boiling water, “if I use the fact that he can outdo Cam in any area, he’ll be an A student.”

“They don’t get along.”

“They’re wonderful together.” Anna tilted her head as the living room exploded with shouts, cheers, stomping. “And Seth likes nothing more than to impress his big brother. Which means, of course, they argue and prod each other constantly.” She smiled again. “I take it you don’t have any brothers.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Sisters?” Grace asked and wondered why Sybill’s eyes went so cool.

“One.”

“I always wanted a sister.” Grace smiled over at Anna. “Now I’ve got one.”

“Grace and I were both only children.” Anna squeezed Grace’s shoulder as she walked by to mix her cheeses. Something in that easy, intimate gesture stirred a tug of envy inside Sybill. “Since we fell in with the Quinns, we’ve been making up rapidly for coming from small families. Does your sister live in New York?”