By the time she reached the cluster of buildings at the end of the drive, her thighs burned and her lungs ached. She’d thought she was in better shape than this. Where had Jonathan said to go? Oh, right, the office building, which also served as his home.

“It’s not much,” he’d said, sounding self-conscious. “But we’ve got room for one more for dinner.”

Madeleine had thought of her tiny shared room in the convent, and the little apartment she now shared with Becca. “That’s extremely kind of you.”

The office sat next to the gravel drive, while the barn and a couple of other buildings lay not a far distance off. It was a brick structure that did indeed look like a residence. Another building sat on the other side of the nearest field—a little stone cottage that looked older than everything else. It seemed homey from this distance, just the sort of thing you imagined when you thought of Scottish cottages. In the United States, a plaque probably would have designated it as a historic building.

The gravel crunched beneath her tires as she braked. Be calm. Deep breath, deep breath. That was hard when she was already breathing heavily from the ride. Her hands stung from the wind. She should have brought gloves, but who thought of that in June?

Madeleine walked the bicycle to the steps that led up to the front door. Just as she reached them, the door opened, and Jonathan emerged onto the porch. Was she imagining things, or did his smile seem nervous?

“Welcome, welcome,” he said. “Happy you found us. You look as if you’ve been blown about a bit!”

Madeleine touched her tousled hair. She must be a mess. “Just a bit.”

He chuckled. “If you like, I’ll drive you back. Come in, come in.”

She followed him inside. A couple of desks filled the front room, both covered with papers and binders. One desk also had a computer. Jonathan had made some effort at neatness, but he was clearly not a natural organizer. Madeleine was already itching to put everything in good order.

Jonathan led her through a corridor to the living quarters: specifically, a living room with a small sofa, some armchairs, and a TV. It was a homely, homey space, perfect for a man whose business and life were so entwined that he needed to keep them in the same building. Madeleine thought of the convent. She could relate to that too.

An appetizing smell floated through the air. Her stomach growled, and she shot Jonathan an embarrassed look. She’d only had that sausage roll for lunch, hours ago.

He grinned. “Shepherd’s pie all right, then?” Suddenly he looked anxious. “Or are you vegetarians? I should have thought of that, shouldn’t I?”

Vegetarians, plural? Were there suddenly two of her? Madeleine looked at him in confusion.

“Nuns, I mean,” he clarified. “Do you eat meat, Sister?”