relinquished the cat, trying not to grimace at the sight of the family room through the arched doorway of the kitchen. A television was blaring, and toys of all shapes and sizes joined more clothes scattered on the beautiful fawn-colored leather couch and love seat. A fireplace filled one wall, flanked by white columns and bridged by a mantel that held dusty candles next to a framed picture of Cord’s family.
She could see the picture was a candid shot taken outside. Sunlight illuminated Cord and his wife and children.
Cord stood with Suzy perched on his hip, her arms wrapped around his shoulder as she leaned away from him, the sun making a halo of her hair. Cord had his other arm draped around the shoulders of a stunningly beautiful woman with wavy blond hair. She in turn had her hand on Paul’s shoulder, her other hand cupped around her pregnant stomach.
Ella turned away, frustrated that the picture so easily evoked memories. Was she ever going to put the past behind her?
Boyce looked at her and frowned as if he had caught the vulnerability she had allowed to slip over her features.
She lifted her chin, determined to push past it all. “I should get back to the cabin and back to work.”
“Thanks for helping with the kids,” Boyce said, his smile warm and friendly. “And I should get going on supper.” Then he groaned, pressing his hand against his lower back.
He looked tired. It couldn’t be easy for him supervising young, active kids at his age. And having to cook.
“What are you making?”
“Cord pulled out some meat. Not sure what to do with it, though.” He shifted some of the dishes around to make room on the stove, looking confused.
“I’m hungry, Grandpa,” Paul complained.
“Me too,” Suzy added. “My tummy hurts.”
“I know. Just give me a bit and I’ll have supper ready.” Boyce gave her an apologetic look. As Ella watched his aimless meanderings, she felt a flash of sympathy for the man.
“Maybe I can help?” she said.
Boyce shot her a look full of gratitude. “That would be great. This is what Cord took out.” Boyce held up a plate of chicken breasts.
“Chicken is pretty basic. Let’s see what we can do with it.”
She dug through the disorganized shelves of the pantry, and found a bottle of Indian butter chicken sauce. Boyce found an onion, and a few minutes later she was sautéing chicken and cooking rice.
As she worked, Ella was surprised at how easy it seemed, working in this kitchen. With these kids.
And for the first time in a long while, she felt an easing of the band of anguish that usually gripped her heart.
* * *
Cord strode up the front walk of the house and grinned when he smelled the mouthwatering scent of butter sauce wafting out the open kitchen windows.
Before he’d left for his meeting, Boyce had offered to make supper, telling him that he could easily manage. Cord was puzzled by the offer but thankful. He hated cooking and the kids usually hated what he made.
He had hoped his father was able to work around the mess in the kitchen. A combination of his own attempts to cook and Boyce’s easygoing work ethic.
He knew he needed to clean up and it had been bugging him for the past few days, but he was swamped with work. Thankfully his in-laws were willing to take Oliver for most of the spring break and with Boyce around, he and the kids could just about manage until school started again. It was strictly stopgap, but it gave him some breathing space until he found a nanny.
He stepped inside the entrance, frustrated at the kids’ shoes tossed around on the floor and the dirt caked on the tiles beneath them. Lisa would have pitched a fit at the sight. Renovating this house had been a project she’d started since they were first married and moved in. He couldn’t begin to count how many hours, days and weeks she spent on Pinterest and consulting with the contractors to bring her vision to life.
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