Free Carnations in January by Clare Revell Page A

long.”
    “It smells wonderful. I don’t remember the last time I cooked.”
    He shot her that raised eyebrow look that had the usual effect of making her weak at the knees. “Really?”
    “I don’t have time,” she explained quickly. “Between the house, shop, and account books, I barely have time to sleep. It’s microwave ready meals or toast.”
    “And before you moved here?”
    “Work was my life.” The words were out before she realized. She’d never admitted that to anyone before and wasn’t sure why she’d done so now. Except the fact that she couldn’t lie to him. Not like she lied so easily to other people. What surprised her more was the fact she didn’t want to lie to him. “I did eighteen hour days, six days a week.”
    Elliott reached for the plates. “Well, that is going to change.”
    “Oh, really?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, mildly amused at the firm tone of voice he’d adopted.
    “Yes, really. You need to stop and smell the roses.”
    She shook her head, fighting to keep a straight face. “That is either a really bad joke or a busman’s holiday. I’m not sure which.”
    He rolled his eyes as he dished up. “You know what I mean.”
    “I guess so.”
    Joel picked up his plate and took a fork from the drawer. “I’ll see you later.”
    “Aren’t you going to eat with us?” Grace asked.
    He shook his head. “I really need to get on with this book.”
    “What are you reading?”
    “I write. Usually crime fiction, but I’m working on a kid’s book right now.”
    “You’re an author?” Joel...Wallac...No... “Oh, wow—you’re the Joel Wallac. I hadn’t made the connection. You write the Dirk Shepherd books.”
    Joel’s smile grew. “Guilty as charged. You’ve read them?”
    “All of them.”
    “Well, I shan’t ask what you thought. Anyway, the computer is calling, and I have to finish this one, so I can read it down the phone to Brad tomorrow.”
    Elliott handed Grace a plate as Joel left the room. “We won’t see him again tonight. Once he gets in the writing zone , the earth could quake around him, the sky fall, and he’d be none the wiser. I set the table in the lounge.”
    “OK.” She followed him.
    “Are you all right?” he asked.
    She didn’t answer.
    “I didn’t think so. What’s up?”
    Grace set her plate on the table, noting the candles and bottle of juice. It was laid for three. “It’s just this place is so like Aunt Tilja’s, but not. It’s—”
    Elliott sat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know what you mean. The layout is the same, but it’s the personal touches, trappings, and décor that make it a home, rather than a house.”
    “Yeah.”
    “You still don’t see this as a new start?”
    “No.” She looked at the plate. “Thank you for this.”
    “Welcome. I’ll say grace and we can start.” He reached out and took her hand as he prayed.
    As they began to eat, she glanced up at him. “Hope used to cheat when asked to say grace. She’d literally say grace and then start eating. Or just point at me.”
    He chuckled. “Sounds like the sort of thing Joel would do. How do you want the house done?”
    “Same as before, I guess.”
    “You don’t want it changed around or anything? We could add a conservatory without extra planning permission. You’d lose part of the garden, but the extra space would be worth it.”
    She ate slowly for a moment, trying to work out which spices he’d used in the curry. She could pick out turmeric and cumin, but there was something else as well. “Actually a conservatory would be nice. With doors that can be flung open when it’s warm and a radiator for when it’s cold. Maybe a real fire too, rather than a gas one in the lounge.”
    “As well as radiators?”
    She moped up the sauce with the na’an bread. “Like you have. I won’t always use it, just would be nice sometimes. Christmas tree, roaring fire, carols…”
    “Woman after my own heart,” he grinned.