I smile faintly at the sight of Sam's little cottage.
It is gorgeous, really. The sort of place you would expect to see in a photograph of the quintessential English countryside, with its soft stone, neat hedges and charm.
The thought comes unexpectedly, but it is not unwelcome. I wonder, briefly, what Landry would make of a photograph like that.
"Come on, let's get you settled," Sam says, already striding past me and up the little path to the front door.
I pull my suitcase behind me, the wheels bumping awkwardly over the cobblestones.
"I've got to check in at the pack house for the lunchtime rush, but make yourself comfortable," she says, pushing the door open for me. "I know how much smaller this place probably feels when you've been used to Exton."
"It really does," I admit, stepp
