A big stand mixer whirled some sort of batter while Julia—her hair bundled up in a small cook’s cap—pulled another tray of cookies from the oven. At the island, Maggie cranked some sort of device to peel and core apples for the pie crusts already waiting.

Music pumped out of a boom box, shaking the redolent air with rock and roll.

Hugh thought the women were as graceful as ballerinas, as strong as lumberjacks, as focused as scientists.

“Mom! Mr. Sullivan’s here.”

“What? Have you finished with—Oh.” Spotting Hugh, Julia set down the tray, dusted her hands on her apron. After tapping her mother’s shoulder, she switched off the music.

“Sorry,” she began, “for the chaos.”

“It’s not. It’s amazing. I apologize for interrupting.”

“I could use a quick break.” Maggie rolled her shoulders. “Dillon, why don’t you take Hugh into the living room?”

“I wonder if I could just sit in here?” Hugh closed his eyes, drew an exaggerated breath. “And get drunk on the scents.”

“Sit right down wherever you like.” Julia switched off the mixer. “Dillon, don’t touch a thing. Go wash your hands.”

“I know the rules.” He rolled his eyes, walked out, because one of the rules meant he couldn’t wash hands after chores in the kitchen on a baking day.

“I’m going to speak my mind,” Maggie decided, “and tell you you look worn out, tired out. I’m not going to offer you coffee because sometimes what a body needs is a good herbal tea. I have just the thing.”

Grateful, he sat at the table crowded with their baking tools while Maggie put on a kettle. And smiled when Julia put an assortment of cookies on a plate.

“Thanks can’t possibly cover it.”

“Yes, they can,” Julia told him. “We’re all so relieved the people responsible are in prison. How’s Caitlyn?”

“She . . .” He’d planned to say she was doing well, but the worry, the stress simply spilled out. “She has nightmares, and she’s afraid to be alone. Aidan, my son, he’s going to take her to a therapist, a specialist, someone she can talk to.”

He paused when Dillon rushed back in. “He said he wanted to talk to all of us.”

“And I do. Maybe you can sit here with me, help me with these cookies.”

“Go ahead, Dillon.” As she spoke, Julia got a jug out of the fridge, poured a glass of goat’s milk for her son.

“My wife—Lily—she wanted me to add her thanks. She would have come with me, but she went with Aidan and Cate back to L.A. They’re going to stay in our guesthouse for now. Cate didn’t want to go back to their house.”

“Because her mother lived there.”

“Dillon,” Julia murmured.

“No, he’s right. That’s exactly right. My mother left for Ireland this morning. The house here . . . it feels too big for her without my father. Too full of memories of him that, right now, make her sad. Aidan’s going to take our Catey there, away from all this. We all think it’ll be good for her, and she wants to go.”

“You’ll miss them.”

“Yes. My mother’s turned the house here over to me. I hope Lily and I can spend more time here, but we have caretakers, the couple who’ve worked for my parents for many years, who’ll look after the place while we’re in L.A. or working.”

Maggie set a cup in front of him. “See that you drink that.”

“I will. I wanted to ask if when we are here, if you’d come, have dinner with us.”

“Of course. You’re alone here tonight?” Julia asked him.

“I have some things to deal with before I leave. Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then you’ll have dinner with us tonight. Red’s already coming, so we’re putting a pot roast on as soon as the baking’s done.”

“I would . . . Thank you. I’d love to come to dinner.” To compose himself, he lifted the tea, sipped. “This is good, and interesting. What is it?”

“Basil and honey,” Maggie told him. “Holy basil it’s called, with honey from our own bees. It helps with stress and fatigue.”

“I want to say you’re both amazing women who are, clearly, raising an amazing young man. I speak for my entire family—and we are many—when I say we are forever in your debt.”

“There’s no debt,” Julia began, but Hugh grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“She is the world to me. I adore the children Lily brought into my life, and love them like my own. But Caitlyn is the only child of my only child. My first wife died,” he said to Dillon.

“I’m sorry.”

“Her middle name was Caitlyn, and I see her in Catey’s eyes, in the way she moves. She is the world to me. I want you to allow me to give you more than gratitude. I know there’s no price for what you, all of you, did for Cate, but I’m asking you to allow me to give you some tangible repayment for what can never be repaid.”

“Your heart’s in the right place.” Maggie took a bowl, poured the mix in it over the apples. “We couldn’t take money for doing what was right for a frightened child.”

“The world to me,” Hugh repeated.

Reading the emotion, the need, the pain, Julia made a decision. “Dillon, did you finish your chores?”

He stuffed the second half of a cookie in his mouth before it was too late. “Almost.”

“Since you’ve bolted your share of those cookies, finish the almost.”

“But—” He caught the look in his mother’s eyes, the one that said: Argue with me, pay the price. He dragged himself to his feet. “I guess I’ll see you for dinner, Mr. Sullivan.”

“Hugh, and, yes, you will.”

He waited until the boy went out the back. “You thought of something you’ll accept.”

“That depends. We had a dog. Dillon loved Daisy so much. She went everywhere he went—except school, and if they could’ve figured out how to manage it, she’d have been under his desk. We, my husband and I, got her before he was born, so he had her all his life. She died two months ago.”

Her voice broke. “I’m not over it. But grieving time has to end, and I’ve seen when Dillon has computer time, he’s been looking at dogs. He’s ready.”

Maggie lifted her apron, used the hem to wipe at her eyes. “I loved that damn dog.”

“I’ll get him any kind of dog he wants.”

“There’s a woman I know who helps with rescues and fostering. I’ve been thinking of this for a couple of weeks, but couldn’t make myself pull the trigger.”

“Because this is the trigger,” Maggie put in, and rubbed a hand on Julia’s back.

“It feels that way. She’s just this side of Monterey, so not far. I can call her if you want to take Dillon and go see.”

“Yes. If this is what you’ll accept, this is what I’ll do.”

“One favor. Don’t tell him where you’re going. I think the surprise is part of the gift. It’s a gift, not payment.”

“A gift.” Rising, he took Julia’s hand, kissed it. “Thank you.”