“Declan,” Tilly said, “this is Kate York.”

His smile widened, showcasing a set of teeth so straight and white Kate struggled not to stare. They had to be crowns. Or false teeth. “Kate, lovely to meet you. I was sorry we missed you yesterday on the island.”

Kate forced a smile. “Yes, I was in the city—”

“I was only saying to Tilly that you should come by for dinner one Tuesday night. I promise to have you both back to the ferry by final departure.” He winked at Tilly.

“Kate has the convent van,” Tilly said, his flirtation evading her. “You wouldn’t need to pick us up or drop us off.”

“Of course,” he said, his gaze lowered as he watched his daughter toy gently with Tilly’s crucifix. After a moment, he lifted his gaze and met Kate’s eyes. “I’d invite you by this week, Kate, but I’m still busy trying to unpack and the house is a disaster…”

“Maybe in a few weeks,” Tilly said, but her enthusiasm was weak, forced.

“Sounds great,” Kate said. It didn’t. Desperate to pull an excuse from thin air, she started a sentence and hoped she’d find the rest of it along the way. “Tuesdays, though, they aren’t really great for me, having to be back for the girls—”

It was as though Kate’s words fell on deaf ears. “Darling,” Declan said, tilting his head in disappointment as he locked eyes with his daughter. “Let go of Tilly, please. You’re a big girl, you don’t need to be picked up.”

His comment sounded like it was more for Tilly’s benefit than his daughter’s, and it seemed Kate wasn’t the only one who noticed. As though she’d been scolded, Tilly immediately lowered Lily to her feet. Amongst a sea of chattering parishioners, they all fell silent.

“Lovely service,” Kate offered.

“Thank you, Kate. A special one today, I think.” He paused. “Did you get back to Lords last night?”

“No, I, uhh—”

“Kate drove from her mother’s house in Dandenong to be here,” Tilly added, gesturing across the car park to the convent van. “Isn’t that lovely?”

Kate shifted from foot to foot, her cheeks warming. Jesus Christ, Tilly, don’t tell him that. “No big deal,” she said, wetting her lips. “It’s only a forty-minute drive and I knew the sisters would appreciate it if I made an appearance.”

Tilly fixed the strap of her small bag on her shoulder. “Where’s Mason?” she asked.

“He’s still at Sunday school with the other children,” Declan said. He looked across the landscaped garden to the raucous noise that vibrated from the fibro cottage, then, brows furrowing, at his watch. “They tell me that Miriam tends to go overtime every Sunday, much to the children’s distress. I don’t envy her, having to contend with twenty children anxious to get out and run amok.” There was that grin again, so perfect, so charming… Kate’s stomach turned.

“Who knows,” she joked, “that extra ten minutes in Sunday school might up their chances of getting through the pearly gates one day.”