Chapter 4: The Basket

Lenore found me in the castle garden the next morning with a basket on her arm.

She had driven through the night. I could tell, because her hair was still pinned the way she pinned it for travel.

"Sweetheart," she said, and she opened her arms.

I stayed where I was.

Her arms came down slowly. She smiled anyway.

"Lemon cake," she said. "The one you like. I wrapped it in the blue cloth, so it wouldn't dry."

I did like it. That was the trouble.

"You didn't have to drive here," I said.

"Of course I did. You left in the middle of the night with one bag."

She sat on the stone bench and patted the space beside her.

"Come and sit. Let an old woman look at you."

I sat at the far end.

She looked at me for a long moment, and her eyes filled up.

"I know what Kendrick did to you," she said. "Bringing that girl home without a word."

"I told him it was cruel. His father told him too."

"Did he listen?"

"He never listens. That's the Winslow men." She laughed softly and wiped her eye. "But he'll come around, Rowena. He always does."

"He told me he'd treat me like a sister."

"He's a fool. I've told him so."

She touched my knee.

"Withdraw the filing, sweetheart. Come home with me. Let the family smooth the rough edges."

"And the counter-petition?"

"Oh, that." She waved a hand.

"I only filed it to buy you time. I knew you were upset, and I thought you'd want to take it back by morning."

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