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Later that evening, Paige eased into a chair in the guestroom. “Your Bennett is such a good cook. His grilled Portobello mushrooms were delicious. What a treat that was.”
“We’re glad you enjoyed it,” Ivy said, fluffing the downy-soft pillows in Poppy’s old room where she had settled Paige. With orange blossom-scented potpourri and freshly laundered linens, the room was a comfortable respite for their new guest. Ivy had also brought some of Paige’s favorite books for the white-washed bedside table.
Paige reached for the books. She picked up one by Pearl S. Buck, Pavilion of Women. “This classic novel set in China might be interesting for the book club,” she mused. “Or Rebecca from Daphne du Maurier. Have you read that?”
“Long ago,” Ivy said, smiling. “You have quite a collection.”
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