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.However tempting, lingering over pancakes and bacon with friends wasn’t an option this morning.Seeing Brody with Greg Rawlings had crystallized as nothing else could that Knights Bridge wasn’t Brody’s world.Two hours later, she was back in Vic’s cellar when Greg thumped down the stairs and joined her.“You’re a woman who loves her work.You’d have to, given some of the places you crawl around.”“This isn’t as bad as some.I thought you’d be off by now.”“So did I.I decided to burn off breakfast snowshoeing with Brody.He’s a tyrant on snowshoes.It’s that New England upbringing, but he says he never had snowshoes as a kid.” Greg ducked under a low beam.“I want to see this place when it’s finished.”“I’m sure Vic would love to have you back.”Greg grinned.“You’re an optimist as well as plucky.”“You know plucky isn’t my favorite word, right?”“Cuts too close to the truth.Like when I’m called an unforgiving SOB.”Heather set her clipboard on the old workbench.“I don’t imagine you’re even remotely unforgiving.”“Maybe, but I never forget.” His gaze turned serious.“I don’t know if Vic or Brody told you, but my marriage recently ended.We both tried as hard as we could, but it didn’t work out.We finally realized marriage shouldn’t be that hard.You shouldn’t wake up in the morning thinking I’ve got to fix this, this and this, and then for sure we’ll be happy.It starts to feel like one of those New Year’s resolutions you think you ought to want to happen but deep down, you don’t.”“I understand.I’m sorry it’s been a painful time for you both.”“Thanks.We do our best not to take it out on the kids.” He grimaced, swiping at a cobweb to the right side of his head.“I don’t usually go on like this, but I’ve had time on my hands the past couple months.All that thinking.” His grimace turned into an outright pained look.“It’s good I’m going back to work full-time.”“Will you and Brody be assigned to the same place?”He shook his head.“Not this time.Look, I’m not one to meddle, but—you know how I just said my wife and I tried hard? You and Brody don’t have to try at all.You two are easy.You’ve got to figure out logistics—his work, your work, that sort of thing—but that’s nothing compared to figuring out whether you’re meant to be together.”“That’s very sweet, Greg.Thank you.”He scratched the side of his mouth.“Sweet.” Another grimace.“Even in the good days, my wife never thought I was sweet.Whatever.Adrienne says you’re interested in interior design.Ever think about looking up design schools in London?”“London? Why—”“Idle question.”Nothing, Heather knew, was idle in Greg’s world.“Is Brody heading to London next?”“If he is, it would be a promotion.” Greg gave a mock shudder.“I’m not big on small, closed-in spaces.Don’t you get claustrophobic down here?”“No, but wait until you see it after we’re done.You won’t even think about being underground.We’re not converting it into a fully finished cellar, but it’ll be clean, well lit, modern—”“And it’ll have a hundred bottles of good wine and a state-of-the-art sauna.Vic went on about them over breakfast.I think you should get lifetime rights to both for all you’ve put up with from him.” Greg leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek.“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Heather.Stay well.” He stood straight.“You and Brody are easy.Keep that in mind, and don’t make it hard.”She didn’t know quite what to say.“I’ll remember that.Safe travels, Greg.”He was halfway up the cellar stairs when she heard him repeat that she and Brody were easy together.She picked up her clipboard, not at all convinced that Greg Rawlings had sufficient perspective to recognize easy when he saw it.Given how difficult his life had been lately, anything short of bullets and divorce probably did seem easy.When she reached the mudroom, she noticed Vic in the kitchen, dutifully trying to teach Rohan to sit.She didn’t interrupt them.She met Brody on the back steps with an armload of cordwood.“I hated hauling wood as a kid,” he said.“Do you like it now?”“It feels normal.” He paused and turned to her.“Suppose you put aside The Scarlet Pimpernel tonight and we go to dinner and a movie.Think you could do that?”Heather smiled.“I think I could do that.I finished The Scarlet Pimpernel.”“He got the girl, right?”“In a way, he always had her.”She didn’t breathe again until she was in her truck, starting the engine.Easy.Right.She and Brody were easy as pie together.* * *The Sloan farmhouse kitchen was filled with the smells of roasting chicken and simmering mulled cider.Heather put two quarts of raspberries and a pint of heavy cream from a local dairy into the refrigerator and followed the sound of voices into the dining room.Her mother and paternal grandmother were discussing the next steps in a small quilt they were piecing on the table.In her late fifties, Cora Sloan had graying dark hair and lively blue eyes, with a spirit to match.She loved cooking, gardening, sewing, working at the Sloan & Sons offices and—most of all—spending time with her six grown children and two grandsons, all of whom lived within a few miles of the family homestead.She’d lost her own mother years ago and was close to her mother-in-law, Evelyn Sloan, an energetic, white-haired widow in her early eighties, well-known in Knights Bridge for the nursery school she’d run for decades.Heather had never gone more than two weeks without seeing them.Her mother looked up from a stack of bright fabric cut into small hexagons.“How was work?”“Exciting.We’re finally getting started clearing out Vic’s attic and cellar.”“So I heard.That’s a milestone.“Where will Ambassador Scarlatti live during renovations?” her mother asked.“Not in the house, I hope.It’s difficult to have someone underfoot with such a massive renovation.”“He’ll be moving into the guesthouse once we start tearing apart the house,” Heather said.“He’s decided to move to Knights Bridge full-time.”Her mother frowned.“When will Brody be leaving? I don’t see him and Vic Scarlatti as roommates.”“I don’t know how long Brody will be staying in town.” Ignoring an incisive look from her grandmother, Heather instead pointed at the in-progress quilt
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