Sunset at Embthwaite Farm (The Mowbray Sisters Book 3) by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781962707435
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Published: 2024-03-06T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The moors were cloaked in darkness when, three days later, Anna followed James’s texted directions to his house on the other side of Mathering. The last few days had been good—wonderful, really—but also hard in their own way. Harriet and Rachel were clearly absorbing everything Anna had told then, and that was an emotional process.

In the meantime, Peter was continuing to decline, and Anna feared he didn’t have very long left at all. Time was measured in days and maybe weeks, certainly not months and years. Soon, she suspected, it would be in just hours and days, and the thought filled her with sorrow. She wanted her daughters to reconcile with their father, to make peace with him, and she feared what she’d told them would make it impossible.

Had she been wrong to admit the truth, and tell them about Peter’s affair? It was something she continued to wrestle with, all the while glad that she had, because it meant she was closer to her daughters than ever. Things weren’t perfect, and everyone could still feel and act a little spiky, but there had been progress. A lot of progress. And Anna found she could not regret that.

But now she had something exciting and more than a little nerve-racking to think about—her drink with James. He’d texted her twice since inviting her, once with directions and once, just an hour ago, to say he was looking forward to it and asking her to bring her bottle of Bombay Sapphire, accompanied by a wink emoji so she wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. She’d brought it just in case, but the whole thing was making her rather nervous.

She hadn’t done the dating thing pretty much ever; her relationship with Peter, whirlwind that it had been, couldn’t really count and in the last twelve years she’d gone on exactly two dates, neither of which she cared to remember. But maybe, she reminded herself, this wasn’t a date.

It had taken her an hour to choose what to wear for this was-it-or-wasn’t-it-a-date, and she’d finally settled on a pair of wide-legged black wool trousers and a cowl-necked top in deep blue cashmere—elegant and understated, she hoped. She hardly ever wore make-up except the prerequisite lotions and potions to smooth away fine lines, but she’d dared to add a bit of mascara and subtle lipstick just in case it really was a date. Her hair was in its usual sleek, silver bob, nothing much to change there. She’d gone completely grey in her early forties, when she’d first left Peter, and she’d never bothered to dye it since.

The sat nav directed her to a lonely looking farm track that cut through the moors, the twinkling lights of a house barely visible in the distance. The man clearly enjoyed his space, Anna thought, bemused, as she started down the track, passing over two cattle grids before she finally pulled up into the courtyard of a very impressive barn conversion.

When Jane had told her

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