17
With a pleasant smile, Ivy greeted the York family at the door.
Eleanor swept into the inn like a queen on the arm of her husband, who looked about twenty years older than his wife. With salt-and-pepper hair, a sweater vest, and horn-rimmed glasses, Churchill York had the appearance of old, comfortable money not trying to impress anyone. This was a stark contrast to photos Ivy had seen online of him wearing tuxedos at gala events with Eleanor.
Churchill’s manner was as Rachel had described him. A warm smile and wonder filled his face as he gazed around the foyer. Ivy wouldn’t have put Eleanor and Churchill together, though she assumed it might be a case of opposites attracting.
“Isn’t this a charming place?” Eleanor cooed to her husband. Her arm was tucked through his, latched onto
