Philippa cast him a sorrowful look, as though the idea of a single shelf for books was embarrassing, and moved to a bay window filled with cushions. “Chloe told me I was welcome to her nook.”

“Try it.” The words flew from Tommy’s mouth without hesitation, surprising her more than anyone.

It was Chloe’s spot. No one had sat in it since Chloe had left. But now, as Philippa settled on the yellow cushion and none of the other siblings took any particular notice, Tommy realized they had all adjusted to Chloe’s absence.

It wasn’t that the window seat was no longer important. It was that it could now be important for new people and new reasons.

“How is the reading nook?” she asked.

Philippa patted the cushion beside her. “Come and find out.”

Tommy sat next to Philippa in the bay window, hips and shoulders touching. It was dark outside, so the curtains were closed, making the nook seem even cozier. “This is nice.”

Not just the seating arrangements. The moment. Having Philippa fit in as though she were made to be part of Tommy’s life…it was splendid.

“Your siblings aren’t looking,” Philippa whispered. “You can kiss me.”

“Her siblings are listening,” Graham said without lowering his broadsheet. “But don’t let that stop you.”

At Philippa’s mortified expression, Tommy kissed both sides of Philippa’s mouth, then rubbed her nose against Philippa’s. “Ignore them.”

“Ha!” Jacob pulled something from beneath the sofa. “I’ve got you now, Apophis, my boy.”

“Whatever you do,” Tommy whispered to Philippa, “do not look to see what Jacob pulled out from under the furniture.”

Philippa immediately glanced over Tommy’s shoulder and her eyes widened.

“Whatever you do,” Tommy amended, “do not tell me what he found.”

Philippa grinned at Tommy. “I’d like to know what you normally do here in the sitting room.”

Graham’s hand poked up from atop his broadsheet and pointed toward the bookshelf again.

“I’ll show you.” Tommy retrieved her messy pile of pencils and foolscap from the shelf and brought it to a writing desk near the windows. Her blood seemed to rush beneath her skin, like racing a horse bareback on a bright spring day.

Dancing with Philippa was magical, kissing her, holding her, but so were moments like these. Quiet togetherness with the family. Philippa taking part in Tommy’s world, instead of Tommy putting on a costume to be part of Philippa’s.

Philippa peered at the stack of papers on the desk. “What is it?”

“Nude drawings I made of you,” Tommy whispered back.

“What?” Philippa squeaked.

“Maps,” Elizabeth called out. “Tommy is a cartographer.”

Philippa stared at her. “You are?”

“I don’t often sail to distant shores,” Tommy admitted. “My specialty is more mundane.”