“What I was saying before, love,” Carol said. “Marriage is like a marathon. You start it full of energy and enthusiasm, and you might enjoy the scenery and challenge of the first few miles. It’s still a test of endurance, though. There might be times when you’re lagging and feel like giving up.”

“But you never felt like that, right?”

Carol smiled wryly, then went quiet for a while. “I’ve been sorting through some of your dad’s things, photos and mementoes. I thought they’d be something nice to look at over dessert.”

“Sure,” Liv said. She glanced down at the box sticking out of her mum’s handbag and wondered what it might have to do with her parents’ marriage.

Carol sipped her wine. “I’m proud of you, love. It’s good to see you doing so well. Jetting off abroad, dressing up all smart and eating in these fancy places. You’re turning into a different woman.”

Liv felt the same way, too. Who needed fiction when you could live the real thing?

“How’s Essie’s new book going?” Carol said. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“She’s got two and a half months left to finish it, and there’s still lots to do.”

“Well, I hope it’s a goodie. Don’t tell her, but the last few have been a bit...” She made a rocking motion with her hand.

“You think so?”

“Hmm. She’s been writing the same series for a long time. It must be easy to get stuck in a rut.”

“I know what you mean.” Liv browsed around the restaurant and caught the eye of a man dining alone. He was a decade younger than her with twinkling blue eyes and a stubbly chin. When he tilted his glass of wine toward her, Liv blushed. “I hope you’ll love this last ever one,” she said distractedly.

“Last one?” Carol frowned. “Isn’t she writing any more?”

Liv flipped her attention away from the man, and realized what she’d just said. “Oh, yes,” she backtracked. “I’m just guessing Essie will want a break from writing for a while.”

After finishing their pasta, they ordered homemade strawberry tarts with Chantilly cream.

“Ooh, very posh.” Carol broke off a bit of pastry and popped it in her mouth.

“You’ve got a dessert fork there, Mum,” Liv laughed.

“At these prices, I’m going to enjoy every little nibble.” Carol snapped off another piece of tart and closed her eyes as if in ecstasy. She turned eating slivers of strawberry into a ceremony.

Liv noticed that other diners were daintily holding their knives and forks to eat the tiniest morsels of food. A couple of them side-eyed Carol and a red-haired woman whispered behind her hand to her friend.

Liv bristled. The snobbish vibe of the restaurant wasn’t her thing at all. What had she been thinking coming here?