*Grayson*
I catch up with my mother in the foyer. When she has a mission, she can be quite a ball of energy.
"Mother?" I call out.
She turns, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a white linen handkerchief. She gives me a sweet smile. "I think he looks rather well, don't you?"
I think my father is giving a good imitation of looking well, but I can't bring myself to admit the truth. "Yes."
"Not fully recovered though," she whispers, as though she fears she will jinx him by saying the words loudly enough for anyone else to hear them.
I shake my head sadly. "No."
Taking a deep breath, she nods. "Then we shall make the most of this evening. Your father has three favorite desserts. I'm not sure which one he would favor."
"Why not ask Cook to make all three?" I suggest.
Her eyes sparkle
