She smiled. “Too direct?”
“No. Just… devastatingly accurate.”
“Yes, well. I have had children, stepchildren, grandchildren, and one nephew who tried to sell my silver tea service back to me under an assumed name. I know domestic warfare when I see it.”
CJ was talking now, one hand on his hip. Bianca had her arms folded, and Billie was lying flat on the grass beside the grave, apparently showing Jade what it looked like to be dead.
“I love them so much.”
Lady Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. “I should hope so.”
“I know they’re not bad kids.”
“Of course, they’re not bad kids.”
“They’re just…”
“Grieving,” she said.
I nodded slowly.
“So are you,” she added.
I looked at the headstone beneath her flowers rather than at her.
“I’m managing,” I said.
“Are you?”
“Ish.”
“At leastthatwas honest.”
I laughed under my breath. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” The hint of a real smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “And they know, too. Children often know far more than we want them to.”
“They need someone during the day,” I said. “Someone who won’t be psychologically dismantled by a five-year-old with access to baking supplies.”
Lady Ferdinand’s smile turned thoughtful.
“Oh,” I said. “No. Whatever that expression is, no.”
She turned fully toward me. “I may know someone who could help you with the children.”
“No.”
She scowled. “You haven’t even heard the suggestion yet.”
“I don’t need to. If this is someone from your bridge club?—”
“I do not belong to a bridge club.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “Your murder mystery luncheon group.”
“That’s not what it’s called. The woman I’m thinking of would be perfect. She was my nanny,” Lady Ferdinand said.
I stared at her, mouth agape. “Yournanny?”
