With the minimum of fuss, Mary poured a cup of hot coffee for her and then disappeared toward the kitchen. She was back moments later, this time carrying a bowl.

“Eat a few mouthfuls of this. You’ll soon get your strength back.”

“What is it?”

“Porridge, made to my special recipe. My mother always said to me ‘porridge should be nothing but oats, water and a little salt,’ but I couldn’t persuade mine to eat it that way so I made a few adaptations. I’ve always enjoyed experimenting with food.”

“I don’t usually—”

“Try a mouthful.” Mary put the spoon in her hand, as if Gayle were a child. “I think it’s what you need.”

Gayle felt too weak to put up a fight, something else that probably should have worried her.

Breakfast was always black coffee. She ate all her food within an eight-hour window and was ruthless about managing her calorie intake. It was a regime she’d started when her babies were young, and she couldn’t afford to grow out of her clothes. She could afford all the clothes she wanted now, but the ruthless self-discipline had become a habit. Still, flexing on this one occasion was hardly going to kill her.

She took a small spoonful to be polite and paused, savoring the texture—smooth creaminess and the crunch of sugar. “Oh my—”

“Good, isn’t it?” Mary seemed not at all surprised by Gayle’s reaction.

“It’s better than good.” She took a larger spoonful, tasting other flavors that she couldn’t immediately identify. “What’s in this?”

“Oats, together with a little McIntyre secret.”

Gayle cleared the bowl, and not because she was being polite. “It’s the most delicious thing I’ve tasted. And that’s coming from someone who never eats breakfast.”

“While you’re staying here you’ll eat breakfast. It’s freezing out there with more snow forecast. You’ll need the fuel. Is the bairn still outside?”

“Yes. She’s with her father.”

Mary nodded. “She’s a happy, inquisitive little thing. A credit to you. And she looks so like her mother.”

Gayle put the spoon down.

Why hadn’t she seen that? “They’re similar in many ways. My daughter had the same happy, bubbly, inquisitive personality.” It had terrified her. Ella had always been so trusting. She had no fear of strangers. She’d happily chat with anyone. Tab seemed to be the same. “Have you worked here long?”

Mary straightened cutlery and gathered up a used napkin. “I married Cameron McIntyre when I was nineteen and I’ve lived here ever since. Sometimes I feel as if I know every tree and rock in the Glen. There’s not a blade of grass I haven’t walked over at some point.”

“You own the place? I apologize. I didn’t realize—”

“No need for apology. How could you have known? Losing my Cameron last year was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with, but when I realized I might lose the home we’d lived in together for all of our married lives—” Mary took a deep breath. “Life going wrong is the real test of a family, isn’t it? Brodie had a great job in London, but he moved back here and took this on. He gave up a lot for us, and that makes me feel guilty, but not so guilty I’ll tell him to sell this place and live his own life. Which I suppose makes me selfish. But when I’m here, I feel as if part of Cameron is still here with me. And now I’m talking too much.”

“Not at all.” It was a relief to listen to someone else’s problems. It stopped her focusing on her own.

The thought made her flush with shame. When had she become so selfish?

This was Mary’s house. Her dining room, where she’d laughed with her husband and enjoyed meals with her children. She was entertaining strangers in order to keep her family home.

Gayle thought about her own bruised and fractured family. She’d done everything she could to make her daughters independent, to the point of pushing them away. She’d believed that to be more important than protecting the family unit. She’d taught them to rely on themselves and not need anyone. And where had that got her? Regret flashed through Gayle, along with the doubt she’d felt that day in her office when she’d been hovering on the edges of unconsciousness. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. What was the point in wondering if you’d made mistakes as a parent when there was nothing you could do to fix it?

She decided to follow Mary’s example and ignore her own thoughts. “It must be difficult having strangers in your home.”

“I can’t tell you what a relief it is. There is nothing I love more than having a house full of people. Noise drowns out thoughts, don’t you find? Right now I don’t much like my thoughts. Hearing your granddaughter laughing this morning was one of the best things I’ve heard in a long time. Being a grandmother must be a wonderful thing. I envy you.”

Gayle was used to being envied, but not for that.

She thought about her morning with Tab. The innocence and simplicity of it. Tab’s small hand tucked trustingly into hers. There was no history. No judgment. Just the moment.

Did you know that every snowflake is different, Nanna? Mommy says they’re like people.

Tags: Sarah Morgan Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net