Vivian stood in the hallway that led to the kitchen.

Jules hadn’t heard her, probably because Vivian wasn’t wearing shoes, just black hose. They were possibly the compression stockings Dr. Viswanathan had been after her to use. No wonder she was hiding them beneath a pair of gray slacks topped with a loose emerald green blouse. She hadn’t graduated to maternity wear yet, but her clothes were more generously cut. And she was gorgeous.

Jules smoothed down her skirt self-consciously. “Hi. You look great.”

“I wish I felt as great as I apparently look. Are you hungry?”

Her stomach growled in answer. “Guess so.”

“Then let’s eat. Ellen’s just finished up, and I’m starving.” She headed back toward the kitchen.

Jules followed. On the way, she glanced at the hallway mirror and winced at what she saw there. Hair frizzy and unkempt from her walk, cheeks flushed, and nose red. She was a mess. Dammit.

She made a futile effort at smoothing her unruly locks as she headed to the kitchen. It was a wonder Vivian hadn’t looked at her in disgust, as she surely would have when Jules had started working for her.

She fought not to sigh as she entered the kitchen. Predictably, it was perfection, as the rest of Vivian’s house must be. Acres of white Shaker cabinets and gray quartz countertops. Ellen stood before an island painted a lovely muted blue, turning off the gas on a six-burner range. The fridge was paneled with white wood so that it blended in, and all the other appliances were top-end brands in stainless steel. The room looked straight out of an interior design blog.

“Wow,” she murmured. Then she remembered her manners. “Hi. You must be Ellen. I’m Jules.”

The stocky brunette who looked to be in her fifties smiled at Jules as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Good evening. Have a seat. I’m going to plate everything.”

“No need,” Vivian said, plainly to Ellen’s surprise. “Julia and I can help ourselves. Feel free to go home.”

Ellen seemed to know not to question Vivian’s whims. “Thank you, Ms. Carlisle. Good night.”

Jules gave her a feeble wave and smile as she left. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. Ms. Carlisle told me you’ll be stopping by for dinner sometimes. Please leave a list of any allergies. Thank you.”

“Uh—sure.”

She could have sworn Vivian smiled, but it was gone quickly.

As the door closed behind Ellen, Vivian moved toward the stove, where two empty plates sat waiting.

Jules said, “Nuh-uh. Sit down. I’ve got this.”

“I’m four-and-a-half-months pregnant, not bedridden.”

“But you said you were tired. C’mon, sit down. Let me handle it.”

Vivian appeared mulish, but she sat at the kitchen table and let Jules bring over two plates of pan-seared salmon, spinach salad, and risotto. It was simple, but it smelled amazing.