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Great.
Now they all knew that she’d been skulking, watching them, too cowardly to go downstairs and join them.
What would Becca have worn for their first evening together in the garden? Probably something flowing and white, with casual loops of silver round her neck and in her ears, and her hair scooped up into a messy bun that would have looked effortlessly elegant. She would have sipped champagne from a tall flute, rather than grabbing a beer bottle. She would never, ever, have doubted her welcome.
Flora laid two dresses si
de by side on the bed. A blue sundress with thin straps that was her favorite, and a white one she’d bought on impulse from a boutique in Greenwich Village.
Which would make her feel most comfortable? Dressing like herself, or dressing like Becca? As an experiment she scooped her hair up and fastened it at the back of her head. It fought her attempts to contain it, twisting and curling around her face until she looked like a Jane Austen heroine after a mad dash on horseback.
On impulse she texted Julia.
Having clothing crisis. White or blue?
The reply came back moments later.
White? You? Are you kidding me? Unless you’re getting married, wear color! Be yourself!
Be herself.
She lifted her chin, trying to look confident and then she heard the thunder of feet on the stairs and Molly appeared in the doorway, breathless and pink cheeked.
“Why are you pulling faces in the mirror? Why aren’t you dressed? You need to come and play.”
Flora scooped her up and swung her round, flooded with gratitude. The child was almost too big to be lifted, but she felt Molly’s arms creep around her neck and hitched her more securely. She breathed in the fresh, clean smell of strawberry shampoo and sun-warmed child. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to savor that uncomplicated moment of unreserved affection. She still hadn’t dared examine her feelings for Jack too closely, but she was almost entirely sure that she loved his younger daughter. She’d always wanted children of her own, and spending time with Molly had simply increased that yearning. “Have you been having fun?”
“Yes, but I want you to come outside. Everyone is there.”
“I need to change.”
Molly frowned at the choice on the bed. “Don’t wear white. If you wear white you won’t be able to play in case you get dirty. And Chase will get you muddy and then you’ll be mad.”
“I would never be mad with Chase.” Flora lowered her to the ground. “I’ll wear the blue.”
She dressed quickly, but left her hair up. “Is Izzy there?”
“No. I think she’s with Aiden. She loves Aiden.” Molly dragged her downstairs, chatting the whole way, mostly about Chase.
Flora crossed the lawn, warmed by the evening sun and everyone’s glances.
“Hi.” She smiled awkwardly, and Jack reached out and tugged her toward him.
“Love the dress.”
“Me too, although I always think leopard print is more dog-paw-friendly.” Todd was cheerful. “Welcome. Good to meet you, Flora.” Instead of holding out his hand he embraced her and she hugged him back, relieved that he was so welcoming.
His greeting seemed genuine. Either he was an excellent actor, or he was pleased to see Jack with someone else.
It was a shame Clare didn’t feel the same way.
Becca’s friend was adding dishes to a long table that was already groaning with food. Sliced tomatoes and fresh basil glistened with olive oil. There was a large bowl of mixed salad leaves, a potato salad, sweet corn, its edges darkened from the grill, and fresh, warm bread scented with herbs and garlic.
Flora hoped she hadn’t poisoned any of it.
Clare handed her a plate. “You should eat. I know your brain probably doesn’t know what time of day it is, but I always used to find that eating a meal and having a good night’s sleep helps you settle into the new time zone.”
Flora welcomed the attempt at conversation. “Do you travel often?”
