I sat in the nook, sipping the glass of red wine Otto had handed me, and watched them step around each other. It was the same kind of thing that happened in the Three Seasons kitchen, but for some reason I expected it there. Not here, in the cozy comfort of the space Otto had renovated for his new bride as a wedding present, just a year ago.

And now, the two of them moved around each other with grace and beauty, never clashing or bumping into each other. But there was the occasional touch of a hand to a back, or a slide of one shoulder against another, gentle caresses that spoke of love without saying a word.

Aunt Frances caught my smile and misinterpreted it completely. “Something funny?”

I shook my head. “No, just admiring the way you two work together. Rafe and I don’t. Not in the kitchen.” A sudden fear struck me. “Do you think that’s a sign of a problematic marriage?”

My loving aunt snorted. “It’s a sign of you not liking to cook.”

Well, there was that. I grinned, feeling better already. She really was the best aunt ever.

“Is Katie coming up this summer?” Aunt Frances asked.

My oldest niece, Katie “don’t call me Katrina because I’m not a freaking hurricane,” had been sent north from her home in Florida by my brother and sister-in-law to spend the summer. I’d looked forward to it immensely, eager to forge an aunt-niece relationship that would last the rest of our lives. We’d had a rocky start in the classic adolescent style, but all had ended well. Eventually.

“Not sure,” I said. “Mitchell at the toy store and Rianne Howe from Benton’s both say they’d love to have her back, but now that she’s a high school graduate, there are opportunities for her at home.”

“And miss a chance for another Up North summer?” Otto’s eyebrows went sky-high. “What’s wrong with that young woman?”

I had a feeling it was a boy, and one her parents actually liked, but I shrugged. “We’ll see what happens. If she doesn’t come north this year, I’m already working on Ben.”

My only nephew was two years younger than his older sister and two years older than Sally, my mom’s namesake and the youngest Hamilton. If it didn’t work out to get Ben north, I could always start setting the stage for Sally.

“Not sure I ever asked,” Otto said. “How did you enjoy the pottery class?”

Since my thoughts had been far elsewhere, I was startled into showing my actual thoughts and feelings about the experience.

Otto, who had been watching me closely, laughed out loud. “Never mind. I get the idea.”