Page 35 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

“Why, thank you,” she said. “That’s very kind. You’ve learned quite a bit of Welsh in just a short amount of time. I’m very impressed.”

It occurred to her, as she helped Ava to measure out flour and sugar, that she hadn’t actually expected anything to ever change, to be able or even allowed to change. She realized, with an uncomfortable pang of guilt, that she’d assumed she and her son’s family were all stuck in relational ruts, unable to move or grow or reach out to each other, and yet here she was with Ava, baking on a sunny afternoon, just as she’d once dreamed of—and they were even making Welsh cakes! She never could have imagined such a thing, and it felt like both a blessing and a miracle. She was so very thankful.

Ava scooped out a handful of raisins, clutching them in one chubby fist.

“Can I eat one?” she asked with a cheeky grin, and Gwen smiled.

“Of course you can.”

She laughed as Ava crammed the whole handful of raisins into her mouth.

“Greedy goose!” she told her affectionately as she rumpled Ava’s soft curls. “Save some for the cakes, or they won’t be Welsh cakes at all, will they?”

“Hello?” a voice called from the hallway, and then Sarah appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a casserole dish wrapped in foil. “Isn’t this cozy?” she remarked as she surveyed Gwen with Ava. “Are you baking with Granny, Ava?”

“Welsh cakes,” Ava said with triumph.

Sarah smiled, but Gwen thought her daughter looked a little discomfited by the pleasant scene, maybe because she hadn’t expected it. Gwen knew Sarah had picked up on the tensions between her and Ellie.

“I’ve brought you dinner,” Sarah announced, and Gwen wiped her floury hands on her apron.

“That’s very kind, Sarah, but you didn’t have to—”

“I was trying to be helpful,” Sarah interjected in a slightly injured tone. “What with Matthew’s arm—”

“It’s not as if he does much cooking,” Gwen teased as she took the casserole dish. “But thank you. It’s very kind and thoughtful.” She knew Sarah needed to feel needed. Sometimes she forgot, because her daughter was so quietly capable, seeming to need no one, and yet right now was a reminder that, like everyone else, Sarah had insecurities. “Ooh, shepherd’s pie,” she said as she peeked under the foil. She gave Ava, who was still munching her mouthful of raisins, a smile. “One of my absolute favorites.”

“I thought it was,” Sarah remarked, and then looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Ellie?”

Gwen told her about the playdate, and her daughter raised her eyebrows.

“They’re all settling in well, then? I’ve been meaning to ask Ellie over for a coffee, but it’s hard to find the time.”

“Well, I know how busy you are. I’m sure she’d appreciate it, though.”

Sarah shrugged. “I saw her in the café with Emma Lanfer the other day. She seems to be quite busy herself.”

Had Sarah been expecting to be Ellie’s first, and maybe only, friend? Gwen wondered. If so, Sarah hadn’t made much effort toward that end, but then perhaps neither had Ellie.

“Even so,” she told Sarah. “It’s got to be hard, very hard indeed, to move so far away from home. I’m sure Ellie could use all the friends she can find. You really should invite her over for a coffee. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.” She turned back to Ava. “Ready to put the raisins in?”

Sarah watched silently from the doorway, her arms folded, her expression rather closed, as Gwen and Ava finished mixing the dough for the Welsh cakes.

“Can I flip them, Granny?” Ava asked as Gwen put them on the griddle pan on the Aga. “Can I? Can I?”

“Of course you can, if you’re really careful. The pan will be hot, and you don’t want to get burned.”

Sarah continued to watch them for a moment. “I remember when you used to make these cakes with Mairi,” she remarked after a moment, her voice turning soft.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” It had been years ago now, back when Mairi had been Ava’s age, and things had felt less busy, less fraught. Now that Mairi was a full-fledged teen, she didn’t seem to have nearly as much time for baking with her granny, and Gwen understood that. Mostly.

“Granny, are they done?” Ava asked eagerly. “Can I flip them yet?”

“Yes, darling, you can flip them.” Gwen was conscious of Sarah’s thoughtful gaze as she helped Ava to flip the cakes, her hand guiding her granddaughter’s smaller one.

“I did it!” Ava squealed, triumphant.

“Yes, you certainly did. Well done, Ava.”