Susan Mallery Page 0,8

garlic knots are bread,” Connor told his father. “I tied them all myself.”

“Did you?” Declan ruffled his hair. “That’s great. Give me five minutes to get changed and I’ll be back to help.” He picked up his briefcase and started for the hallway, his son at his heels. “Sunshine, do you drink wine?”

“Only on days ending in Y.”

“Good. Why don’t you pick us out a bottle of red from the wine cellar? You know where it is?”

“I do.”

Except for Declan’s bedroom, she’d explored the house that first weekend. She knew every place an eight-year-old boy could hide and had moved a bucket full of different bottles of cleaning solutions out to the garage. Yes, Connor was old enough to know not to play with stuff like that, but why tempt fate?

The house was typical for the neighborhood. Built in the 1920s with a strong Spanish influence, the structure was a U shape with a patio at the center. Just past the kitchen was the mudroom. Beyond that was a family room and then her en suite bedroom. Behind the attached garage was a large workout room she really had to start using.

Exiting the kitchen in the opposite direction led to a formal dining room, a formal living room, then the hallway curved. Declan had an office, then Connor’s room was next, then the master.

The rooms were oversize, the beams in the ceiling original and the garden was something out of a fantasy. Sunshine didn’t know much about plants, but she knew enough to keep her window open so she could smell the night-blooming jasmine just outside.

She walked toward the mudroom, stopping at the walk-in pantry. On the far wall was a wine cellar with glass doors. She figured it must hold at least four hundred bottles of wine, grouped together by type. She pulled out racks, searching for a relatively inexpensive red blend. Dinner was casual and the wine should be, too.

She found a foil cutter and bottle opener in one of the drawers in the pantry and carried the open bottle and two wineglasses back into the kitchen, then opened a bottle of sparkling nonalcoholic apple cider for Connor. If they were going to get fancy, it was nice to share.

While Declan got Connor settled, Sunshine dropped the hot rolls into a large bowl then tossed them with melted butter and garlic. The salad was already in place, as were the plates. She gave Connor and Declan each a roll before putting the extras on the table and taking her chair.

The kitchen table seated six. The three of them were clustered at one end, with her across from Connor. Without thinking, she put salad on his plate, only to realize that might be something his father wanted to do.

“Oh, um, sorry. Did you want to...”

“Go ahead,” Declan said easily, pouring them wine.

She nodded, then waited for him to serve himself before taking the bowl from him and putting salad on her own plate. When she was done, she reached for her glass of wine just as Declan started to hand it to her. They bumped and the glass nearly spilled.

Sunshine felt herself flushing. Great. Just great. The awkward first days were supposed to be over by now. Living in someone’s home, and being an almost-but-not-quite part of the family wasn’t an easy transition.

Declan shook his head. “We have to work on our dinner skills,” he said, his voice teasing.

“Apparently.”

“The last few weeks have been hectic with my work schedule and we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other. If you don’t have plans, why don’t you join me in my study after Connor goes to bed and we’ll talk about how things are going so far.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

Connor held up his glass of cider. “I want to make a toast.”

“Do you?” Declan raised his wineglass. “What is it?”

Sunshine picked up her glass and waited. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the statesmanlike moment Declan seemed to expecting.

Connor grinned. “And jelly.”

“Toast and jelly,” Declan murmured, before taking a sip of his wine. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

Connor giggled. Sunshine winked at him.

“We went to The Huntington after school today,” she said, picking up her fork. “To the desert garden.”

“My favorite!” Connor announced.

“One day I’ll get to see one of the other gardens. At least I hope so.”

Connor raised his shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. “In two more times. I promise.”

“Yay! And thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned to his father.