Chapter 15
MILO HAD LEFT AFTER HIS second cup of tea, and although it was early enough in the evening that Britta should have been well rested, she had trouble sleeping. Milo circled around every thought, like a song stuck in her head, but the song was pleasant and she didn’t want to hum a different tune. Sunday morning, Britta dressed carefully for church services in a cream-colored blouse and dark green skirt. She curled the ends of her hair before tucking them into a clip.
When she opened the door to greet Milo, he reached out his hand to help her down the steps. “You look like autumn.”
“Thank you,” Britta said. She breathed in the crisp, clean air with its undertones of dried maple leaves and the swirling scent of Milo on the tips of those leaves.
The church was packed when Milo an
