a touch of anxiety.
My mother had always been supportive, but she was also unapologetically honest in her assessments.
As I returned to the cottage to prepare dinner, I noted the blinking light on my landline answering machine.
A deliberate anachronism I’d installed after discovering my cell reception could be spotty near the water.
Pressing the button, I heard Jonathan Mills’s measured tone.
“Sophia, just checking in on the follow-up paperwork for the Maple Avenue sale. Everything’s finalized on our end, but there’s one matter I wanted to discuss with
