KANE
The garden smelled like her mother's roses when I stepped outside, and for a second I stood there, unsure of what to make of the sight in front of me.
A small table had been set beneath the trellis, a teapot steaming gently in the center, two cups already poured. Elizabeth Ford stood over it, adjusting the tray with the careful precision of someone who had done this a thousand times for guests she actually liked.
She looked up when she heard me, and her spine straightened.
"Is this safe?" I asked, only half joking, eyeing the tea like it might be laced with something.
"You want my daughter." She didn't look at me as she said it, pouring a second stream into the cup nearest my seat. "And there is nothing I can do about that. If I have to be on good terms with you to keep seeing he
