Tate glanced at Leelo. She didn’t want to interfere in their relationship, but she could see that her brother was uncomfortable with these kinds of questions. If she was ever going to get to know him, she needed to talk to Nigel alone.

“Tate, why don’t you go and get us some of that fresh lemonade I saw on sale,” Leelo said, handing him a few coins that Jaren had given her. “Take your time.”

He nodded, looking relieved, and hurried away.

“I’m sorry,” Nigel said almost immediately after he was gone. “I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.”

Leelo tossed some of the crust of her sandwich to a pair of ducks swimming in the creek. “It’s all right. I haven’t told Tate everything yet. There are things I’m not sure he’s ready to know.” Things she wasn’t ready to talk about.

“Does your father know?” he asked after a long silence.

Saints, he thought Kellan was still alive. Why wouldn’t he? The last thing he knew, Fiona was married with one young daughter. “My father died,” Leelo said. “When Tate was just a baby.”

All the color drained from Nigel’s face. “How? When?”

Leelo explained about her father and Uncle Hugo, stressing again that Tate didn’t know any of this and she wasn’t ready to tell him. He had been through enough already.

When she was finished, Nigel blinked and cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Your poor mother. She must have had a very difficult time after your father passed, raising two children on her own.”

“She did. She’s had a hard life.”

“I hate to think I made it harder.”

Leelo swallowed down the lump rising in her throat. “She misses you.”

Nigel looked up at her in surprise. “She spoke about me?”

Leelo nodded. “Yes. Just before I left.”

He inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“It seems as though you have friends here in Bricklebury. And I know we’ve only just met. But I want you to know that if you and Tate would like to live with me, you have a home. Always. Sir Percival and I would love to have you.”

Leelo ran her fingers through the grass, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you. That’s very generous.” She was grateful for the offer, though she couldn’t imagine going to live with Nigel now. “You know, Tate was just his nickname,” she said, desperate for a change in subject.

“Oh?”

“Our aunt came up with Tate. His real name is Ilu.”

“Ilu. What does that mean?”

“Precious one.”

He smiled. “That’s a lovely name.”