Lavished with Lavender - Valerie Comer Page 0,14

fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. She drives me crazy.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I’m not buying that you don’t know. It was an instant aversion. There had to be something.”

“She looks so... perfect. Like she has an agenda to uphold.”

“Perfect?” Jasmine’s eyes widened. “You think Makenna looks perfect?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said.”

He had, hadn’t he? “I meant her figure. And her clothes. And her heels. Who nurses an old woman with perfect hair and makeup and heels?”

Jasmine looked at him thoughtfully. “Is there any reason she shouldn’t? I mean, dressing up isn’t my style, but why does it bug you if it’s hers? Does it prevent her from doing her job?”

Women always stuck up for each other. “You asked. I answered.”

“Are you attracted to her?”

Tony reared back, staring at his cousin. “Are you some kind of crazy? Not a chance.”

“Because if you are, you should know that she’s older than you by about five years.”

“Who cares?”

Jasmine smirked. “I don’t. It’s just information.”

“You... I can’t believe what you’re implying. Because there’s nothing to back up your supposition. I’m totally not interested in her that way. Did you miss the part where she drives me crazy?”

“Methinks you protest too much.”

“Methinks you have rocks in your head. I hear them rattling from over here.”

“I live to interfere.” She chuckled. “They don’t call me Nonna Junior for nothing.”

Tony narrowed his eyes as he stared at his cousin. Had Nonna been grimacing from pain when she sent him to make coffee or had that been a smirk? Was Nonna pitting him against Kenna on purpose?

6

Why did this crazy family keep bringing lavender into the house? She liked flowers as much as the next girl, but there were other blooms out in the yard. Through the fence, Kenna could see a colorful border — distinctly more vibrant than purple — in the community garden next door.

It was mostly Jasmine, who dropped by every couple of days to see her grandmother, but the aunts weren’t above it, either. If they didn’t bring more in, they rearranged the existing arrangements and moved them from one room to another. They could just stay out of hers.

Kenna wasn’t stupid. She knew lavender’s reputation for alleviating stress. Okay, so there was a lot of tension in this house, and it wasn’t all her. Mrs. Santoro was visibly in pain, which made her a bit grumpy. All the visitors — a regular parade of them — seemed to give the old lady a pass. Maybe this amount of irritability was normal for her. How would Kenna know? She’d had as little as possible to do with this family before now.

And no one knocked. Ever. Right now, Kenna scrubbed toddler fingerprints off the living room window and watched Winnie turn up the sidewalk.

She strolled inside a moment later, wearing a pensive smile. “Hi, Kenna. How’s our patient today?”

“Resting.” Mrs. Santoro found lying down to be less painful than sitting up. “But she’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

Winnie fidgeted with the hem of her striped top. “Kenna... how did you manage when Maurice died?”

What? Kenna’s mouth gaped.

“Today it’s been two years since Al’s accident. I never expected to be a widow, at least not until I was old and gray.”

“It was sudden for you.” She remembered hearing about it.

“He lingered for a few days, but he never regained consciousness.” Winnie’s voice quieted. “It was very difficult.”

“Maurice was ill for a long time, declining gradually. I had more time to grow accustomed to the situation. Plus, he was thirty years older, so I always assumed he’d die before me.”

“I’m not sure which would be harder. It must have been tough watching the man you loved fade away.”

Had she loved Maurice? She must have, once. Sort of. He’d always been difficult, but Kenna was no quitter. Besides, she’d tended to believe the things he said about her were true. Three years later, she could see they weren’t. Not all of them, anyway.

“Have you thought about remarrying?”

“No.” Kenna narrowed her gaze at Winnie. “I never want to be dependent on anyone else ever again.” Especially a man.

“Sometimes well-meaning friends encourage me to consider dating. Al and I had been married almost twenty-five years. I don’t know what dating looks like these days for people my age. I’ll be fifty this year.”

Was she hearing Winnie right? Like she actually kind of wanted to? Kenna scrubbed at one last smudge. Dafne had brought two-year-old Gavin over this morning, and the kid had smeared