“Yes.” Grace sipped her tea. It was weak, of course. Most likely the leaves had already been steeped a time or two. Nothing but the best for her unwanted visitors.

To her great surprise, Mrs. Nesbitt’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “This is what I deserve for never loving Mr. Nesbitt.” She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief meant more for decoration than actual purpose. “I only ever married him for the bookshop, to have my father finally take notice of me. To—” She caught herself and regarded Mrs. Weatherford and Grace as if they were interlopers. “Do you not see? God is punishing me.”

“Are you truly so arrogant to assume that God would have London bombed just to take a jab at you for a selfish act?” Mrs. Weatherford heaved a sigh. “Mrs. Nesbitt, I suggest you put some sense into your head and take advantage of a good offer when it’s sent your way.”

Grace nearly choked on her tea.

For Mrs. Nesbitt’s part, she sputtered with indignation. “How dare you come into my house and say such things.”

“Because someone needed to.” Mrs. Weatherford plopped half a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “You need to apologize to Grace and tell her you’ll accept the generous opportunity. Then you’ll prepare yourself to come to the orphanage with me to read.”

“The orphanage?” Mrs. Nesbitt blinked in stunned disbelief. “To read?”

“You did daily readings at your shop, did you not?”

Mrs. Nesbitt slid a glance toward Grace, then lifted her head and sniffed. “Yes.”

“Your schedule appears to be clear, and there are children in sore need of books.” Mrs. Weatherford stirred her tea.

“Well.” Mrs. Nesbitt tossed her head.

Grace and Mrs. Weatherford looked at her expectantly.

Mrs. Nesbitt made a show of slowly adding a bit of sugar to her tea before taking a sip with one pinky elegantly elevated from the slender handle. She set the cup onto its matching saucer with a plink and took a breath.

“I shall take you up on your offer, Miss Bennett.” She stared at the luxurious thick pile carpet underfoot as she spoke. “Thank you.”

“And the orphanage?” Mrs. Weatherford prompted.

Mrs. Nesbitt lifted her gaze. “I’ll prepare to leave once we finish our tea.”

Mrs. Weatherford gave a triumphant smile. “Smashing.”

1940 passed into 1941 without much fanfare on Mrs. Weatherford and Grace’s parts. There was far too much to do otherwise. Over the next month, Mrs. Weatherford had to persuade Mrs. Nesbitt to join her at the orphanage less and less, as she began to go of her own choosing. The shelf designated for Nesbitt’s Fine Reads received much attention, which pleased Mrs. Nesbitt greatly.