“Please,” Viv said. “Thank you, Colin.”

He nodded and took one suitcase in each of his hands, carrying them easily up the stairs.

“Do you remember visiting with Colin?” Mrs. Weatherford asked.

“We do,” Grace said. “He seems as kind as he’s always been.”

“Only much taller,” Viv added.

Mrs. Weatherford looked up the stairs with adoration shining in her eyes, as if she could still see him. “He’s a good lad. Come, let’s have some tea and I’ll show you around.”

She motioned for them to follow and pushed open the door that led into a kitchen. Light spilled in from the window above the sink and at the back door, filtering in through parted gauzy white curtains. Everything was as pristine in her narrow kitchen as it had been in the entryway. The sun shone off clean white countertops, and a few dishes had been neatly set in a rack to dry. Towels the color of lemons were draped on a rack, and the scent of whatever she was cooking was even more tantalizing.

She indicated the small table with four white chairs to Grace and Viv and lifted the kettle from the stove. “Your uncle picked a fine time to lay claim to your home with a war soon upon us.” She carried it to the sink and turned on the tap. “And so very like Horace,” she said with evident distaste over the rush of water. “Beatrice was worried he might attempt such a thing, but her illness was so sudden—”

Mrs. Weatherford flicked a glance from where she’d been watching the water level in the kettle to Grace. “I shouldn’t be going on like this, what with you just getting in from traveling. I’m so pleased to see you here. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

Grace bit her lower lip, uncertain what to say.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Weatherford,” Viv said quickly.

Grace cast her a grateful look, which she answered with a conspiratorial wink.

“Thank you.” The older woman cut the tap and scanned her sunny kitchen with a smile. “My Thomas’s family owned it for several generations. It’s not as fine as it once was, but one makes do.”

Grace and Viv each slid into a chair. The lemon-printed cushion was thin enough to feel the hard wooden seat beneath. “We appreciate you allowing us to stay with you. It’s very generous.”

“Think nothing of it.” Mrs. Weatherford set the kettle on the stove and spun the knob to turn the burner on. “There’s not a thing I wouldn’t do for the daughter of my dearest friend.”

“Do you think finding employment will be difficult?” Viv asked. Though she kept her tone light, Grace knew how much her friend longed to be a shop assistant.