She’d been so afraid of losing her independence, but she saw now that you could lean on someone and accept support without giving up any part of yourself. Accepting help didn’t make you weak, it made you human. Perhaps it was even a strength because it meant you could face things you might be unable to face alone.

Kathleen clung back, only vaguely aware of Josh and Martha getting back into the car. “Why aren’t you in France?”

“It’s a long story. Why don’t I tell you after we’ve had tea?”

“But what about Sean and the girls?”

“They’re here too.” Liza fastened her seat belt. “Last-minute change of plan. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that the news that we were coming to California, instead of France, was greeted with joy by the girls. They’re currently in our beachfront apartment—arranged at short notice thanks to Josh—planning a future that allows them to move here permanently. It might even be the boost Caitlin needed to focus on her studies. They can’t wait to see you, by the way. They’re cooking dinner for us all tonight.”

Kathleen was finding it hard to keep up. “Did you say that the twins are cooking dinner?”

“Don’t be scared.” Liza patted her leg. “Turns out that they’re better at it than past experience would suggest. I have a lot to tell you. But let’s get to Ruth’s now. No point in delaying a moment longer. How far is it?”

“Not far.” Josh glanced at the directions and told Martha to make a left. “It’s halfway down this road. Close to the beach. Adam can’t have done too badly if they bought a property here.”

Kathleen’s mind was spinning. She had so much to say, and she needed to say it now. “I can’t sell Oakwood, Liza.”

“You’re right. You can’t.”

“I know you think I’ll have an accident there, but—” She paused. “What did you say?”

“I said you can’t sell it. I don’t think you should and I’m sorry I ever suggested it. Stay, and if the time comes when you need help there, we’ll figure it out together.”

Kathleen eyed her daughter. “I won’t wear an alarm.”

“I know.” Liza smiled. “Or lift the rug, or stop using the stepladder. It’s your decision. Your life. Your adventure.”

She’d never seen Liza so relaxed. “I might stop using the stepladder.”

As Martha pulled up outside a set of large iron gates Kathleen felt nerves flutter again, but it was too late for second thoughts because Martha had already spoken into an intercom and the gates swung slowly open and there, standing at the head of the drive, supported by a woman who was presumably her daughter, was Ruth.

She hadn’t changed at all, Kathleen thought. Not one bit.