Page 7 of House of Soot

But Blaise, the way his eyes light up as I share my work, how he listens to me… In fifteen minutes, he showed more care for my passion than Ronan has in all the years I’ve known him. Maybe it's time to stop watering dead soil and plant something new. Something real.

"Miss Hart?" One of the kitchen staff calls from the back door. "Phone call for you. It's about tomorrow's nursery delivery."

Yep, time to move on.

I finish my work for the day and then take the gravel path that winds to the cottage Mom and I live in. Mom's flowers line the walkway, her signature touch from better days when she could still tend them herself.

When I enter the small home, Mom is in her favorite chair, a half-finished crossword puzzle in her lap. Her face lights up when I walk in, but I catch the slight wheeze in her breath.

"Did you take your medication?" I drop my bag and kneel beside her chair.

"Yes, dear." She pats my hand. "All three doses, right on schedule. The new prescription seems to be helping."

I study her face. The color in her cheeks looks better today, though dark circles still rim her eyes. "How's your breathing?"

"Much easier." She shifts in her chair, reaching for her tea. "I even managed to fold that basket of laundry earlier."

"Mom!" I grab the cup before she can strain herself. "You're supposed to be resting. I would have done that when I got home."

Her laugh turns into a small cough. Maybe going on a date isn’t such a good idea.

"I'm not an invalid, Jenna. Besides, sitting around all day drives me crazy. I miss being out there with you, helping with the gardens."

"I know." I hand her the tea. "But the doctor said?—”

"The doctor says a lot of things." She sips her tea. "You worry too much, sweetheart. I'm feeling stronger every day."

I rest my head against hers. "Someone has to worry about you."

"And you do it so well." She squeezes my hand. "But you need to live your own life too, not just take care of your old mother."

"You're not old." I kiss her cheek. "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

I’m certain she’s putting on a brave face. Life is a struggle for her. It’s frustrating that I can’t make it easier for her. Medicine, with all its advances, doesn’t seem to help much either.

Mom sets down her tea. "I noticed the new landscaping near the east wing. The Keans really are investing in the estate."

"They are." I rise, rethinking my date for tonight. "Mrs. Kean approved all my proposals for the spring planting. She’s even increased the budget when I mentioned wanting to recreate some of the designs from before the fire."

Mom's expression softens. "The Ifrinns had such beautiful gardens."

“Well, of course they did. You tended them.”

“With your help.” She sighs. “But the Keans have been so good to us, letting us continue to stay in this cottage, keeping me on as head gardener, and then passing the job to you.”

“They were good to all of us,” I agree. Mr. Kean made sure all the staff could keep their positions if they wanted. Not many would do that.

“He’s done a good job honoring his friend’s legacy,” she says wistfully. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Ifrinn are resting in peace.”

I don’t like thinking about the fire ten years ago. It seems inconceivable that the large, solid home could burn to the ground, just like it didn’t seem possible that a larger than life family could perish. I can remember like yesterday watching the flames from the cottage. There’d been running and screaming as I watched the house burn. So many people died. Mr. and Mrs. Ifrinn. Staff we’d worked with. Friends who’d been staying over. Then there was the sad news about the Ifrinn boys. They’d all been home, but their bodies were never found. Sometimes, I wonder if they got away. Other times, I wonder if they set the fire.

I remind myself of what the Ifrinns lost and how lucky I am that my mom is still here with me. She’s all I have in the world.

"We're lucky," I say softly, taking her hand. "After everything that happened, we landed somewhere good."

She squeezes my hand. “We’re very lucky, indeed.”

Neither of us speaks for a moment. Finally, I say, “I have a date.”

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