I closed my eyes and held him tightly for a few seconds until the sting in my eyes faded. The scent of sweet soap and warm wool pulled me back.
“I missed you,” Ryan whispered into my shoulder.
“I missed you too, my sweet boy,” I said softly, pulling back enough to look at his face. “Have you been good today?”
“Yes! I read three books with Grandma.”
“You must be Maeve?” The new voice was soft and warm, free of the sharp edge I had expected.
I looked up from the floor, one hand still on Ryan’s back. Standing near the wide archway was a woman in her late fifties. She wore a simple beige sweater over light trousers, her graying hair cut neatly around her face. She didn’t look like the bitter high-society mother-in-law I had pictured. Her hazel eyes were soft and friendly.
“Yes,” I said,
