Where Love Dwells Read Free

while they were growing up and needed to be reminded of their manners, this young woman did not even have the decency to blush with embarrassment.
    â€œMy name is Wryn Covington,” the young woman replied with a toss of her head that could have easily knocked off the chip of defiance resting invisibly on one of her shoulders. She did, however reluctantly, slide from the tabletop to her feet, defiance neatly intact.
    Standing but an inch or so over five feet tall, the young woman had a slim, almost waif-like build. Her thick, wavy brown hairhad been tied at the back of her neck. Above the dark cloud of freckles that stretched across her cheeks, deep doe eyes stared right back at Emma. Behind the challenge in Wryn’s gaze and the fierce determination in her stance, Emma sensed a lifetime of deep hurts and disappointments that would take a miracle to heal.
    Emma, however, was shy of patience at the moment, let alone a miracle.
    Why this particular girl was in her mother-in-law’s kitchen, if not the boardinghouse itself, concerned her most. “Are you here with your family as a guest?” she ventured, wondering if the inclement weather might have forced some travelers to take shelter at Hill House while Emma had been on her ill-fated outing.
    Wryn shook her head. “No, I’m not a guest. I’m family—of sorts. Do you always wear so much . . . mud?” she asked, her eyes flashing with amusement.
    Emma clenched and unclenched her jaw. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. Are you always so flippant when speaking with adults?”
    â€œNot usually. At least not with strangers, but since we’re family—”
    â€œExactly how are you related to Widow Garrett?” Zachary asked as he took a step forward to stand closer to Emma.
    Wryn put her finger on the tip of her chin for a moment. “Hmmm. Legally, I’m not sure exactly how I’m related to her. I suppose she might be my . . . what? Grandmother, maybe? Or my great-aunt? It’s all very confusing to me, but since you’re a lawyer, maybe you could tell me.”
    â€œAs confusing as it is, try your best to enlighten us,” Emma said. Certain that this young woman was not any part of her family at all, she directed Wryn’s attention away from Zachary and back to herself.
    â€œI’ll try. Let’s see if I can explain this right,” Wryn began.“Uncle Mark is my uncle, of course, because he’s married to my Aunt Catherine. I’m related by blood to her because she’s my mother’s sister. I’m just confused about how I’m related to you since you’re Uncle Mark’s mother. If you were Aunt Catherine’s mother, you’d be my grandmother, of course. But since—”
    â€œMark? And Catherine? They’re here?” Emma exclaimed, stunned to learn that her youngest son and his family had apparently arrived more than two weeks earlier than she’d expected.
    â€œYes, they’re here. We’re all here. As we speak, Uncle Mark is upstairs with Aunt Catherine. The twins needed their naps and poor Aunt Catherine was completely tuckered out from our travel, so she’s napping, too. By the time Uncle Mark had unloaded our trunks from the wagon and lugged them upstairs, he said he needed to rest awhile, as well. It’s been a nasty few days of traveling, especially with today’s weather, but I don’t suppose I have to tell you that, do I?” she asked, eyes dancing.
    â€œObviously not,” Emma snapped. At this point, the mud was making her skirt and cape awfully heavy. She was dirty and tired and cold. She could still taste the grit of the mud on her lips, and she had little patience left for dealing with this little snip. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I might find Mother Garrett, could you?”
    Wryn fished another cruller out of the tin and nibbled off the end. “She went into