I was extra thankful for having grabbed every tin of soup we had in the pantry.

It was needed far more here.

I greeted everyone who was serving until I got to Mr. Ronald Huws. Ronnie had been my grandfather’s best friend and had actually worked on the estate for many of the years my grandpa had been the Duke of Bath.

Well, I say worked.

If you asked me, they played more card games than they did anything else. At least that was what I remembered.

“Gabi!” He wrapped me in a warm hug, and I sank into his embrace. He smelt just like my grandfather always had—like whiskey and autumn and freshwater lakes, and Ronnie had always insisted it was because my grandfather had copied him when he realised he was the one getting all the girls.

I hugged him back. “Hi, Ronnie. Where do you want me?”

“Down there on the tomato soup?” he suggested. “You’ll get most of the kids, and at least three have asked us if you’re coming with a tiara yet.”

Laughing, I stepped back. “I can manage that. Are you sure that’s all you need?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s nice of you to come anyway.”

“Like you weren’t expecting me,” I said as I backed up towards the huge pot that had the tomato soup in.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing a finger to his mouth conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone.”

I slipped in front of the huge pot. I didn’t know how the church got all this together as quickly as they did every time, but I suspected a lot of the ladies in the Women’s Institute group had a lot to do with it. They mobilised in the blink of an eye, and honestly, they intimidated me a little bit.

As it was, Ronnie was completely correct. Most of the people I saw were kids who were disgusted by chicken and mushroom soup. The two I asked about their choice said mushrooms were yucky, and a third said they didn’t want their soup to cluck.

It was quite hard to argue with the third kid.

“Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs. Carmichael,” I said brightly to the couple who approached me. Mrs. Carmichael was once my English teacher at school, and she beamed when she saw me.

“Gabriella!” She clasped her hands together. “How lovely to see you here helping out.”

“Of course. Tomato for you both?”

“Yes, dear, please.” She looked around. “I don’t see your father. Is Catherine not here?”

I shook my head as I spooned the soup into bowls. “No, they were at a wedding this weekend and didn’t make it back before the storm. They’re fine, though they’re stuck in Bath right now.”

“How terrible.” Mr. Carmichael chuckled. “I can think of worse places to be stuck.”

“Indeed,” my old teacher replied. “I’ll say I’d like to be stranded there. They have a spa that just opened in one of the old hotels that is simply divine. What’s the name of it, dear?” she asked her husband.