Vivian joked around with him like this about food, and wrote nonsense letters back and forth with him—whether to humor him, or because she enjoyed it, he didn’t know, but he suspected some of both. Most of all, he felt so relaxed around her, like he could be himself—not the Queen’s private secretary, Malcolm Hudson, but really himself.

Their waitress came back over and asked them if they were ready to order. Vivian ordered the shepherd’s pie, he ordered the chicken pie—with a wink at her—and they both ordered pints of beer.

“So, you said this is your first trip to the U.K., but do you do much traveling elsewhere?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“I wish I did. I always learn so much when I travel, no matter where I go. But no, I spent years as a single mom and never had the ability to travel much. Even after Maddie was grown up and I could take the time”—she shrugged—“I don’t know, I think I somehow thought of travel—especially international travel—as one of those things other people did, you know? I did go on one trip with a bunch of my girlfriends over ten years ago now, and I had so much fun. Plus, my sister has had a lot of health problems in the past few years, and I haven’t wanted to leave her.”

“She’s on the mend, I presume, since you’re here?” he asked.

She nodded.

“She is, thank God.” She laughed. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to keep texting to check in on her, because I need this break, but it’s hard. I’m not used to relaxing.”

He leaned back.

“Then you should travel more often,” he said.

The waitress brought them their beer, and Vivian thanked her.

“I wish I could,” she said. “But I found out a few weeks ago that I might be moving into a new job; my boss is retiring, and he wants me to be the one to take his job. It’s not guaranteed, I still have to apply for it, but his support has a lot of weight.”

“Congratulations,” he said. “Will you accept it if it’s offered?”

She looked surprised at the question.

“Oh, of course. It’s a huge vote of confidence in me, and I’m so grateful for it. And I’m so glad I’ll be able to serve as an example and mentor to the younger black women in my field. It does mean I’ll be working a lot more, though, and doing very different work. One of the things I love about my job is all of the direct work I do with patients, and I won’t be doing that nearly as much . . . or maybe not at all.” She sighed, then smiled. “But we’ll see—maybe in a few years once I’ve settled into this job, I can do more traveling.”

She took a sip of beer and changed the subject.

“Is your family upset that you won’t be back to London until Christmas Day?”

He laughed.

“Miles is, at least, but only because my sister is driving him up a wall. You see, he’s spending this year before he goes off to Oxford living at home and taking a series of art classes. Sarah was never a fan of that idea, to put it mildly. I had to help talk her into it, and one compromise I got Miles to make was to live at home for the year. And Miles deserves this; he’s always had exceptional grades, and he got excellent A levels . . .” He saw the confused look on her face and backtracked. “Right, I forget, that means nothing to Americans. A levels are the exams students take here in what you would call high school—they’re in all different subjects, and they are crucial for university admissions.”

She lifted her glass to him before she took another sip.

“Good job, Miles. And I’m impressed you got them both to compromise like that.”

Malcolm smiled.

“It wasn’t too difficult. Miles has loved art since he was small, and he had his heart set on spending a year really diving into it. And when he got into Oxford and they agreed to let him start next year, that calmed Sarah down some. He loves painting so much, and had always wanted to be able to have more dedicated time than just a month or so in the summer to work on it.”

She smiled at him.

“You’re very proud of him, aren’t you?”

Was it that obvious? This woman was far too easy to talk to; it was dangerous.

“I’m sorry, was I bragging? I didn’t mean to. I just—”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Brag away. I brag about Maddie all the time.” She leaned back against her chair. “He seems like a good kid.”

He nodded.

“He is. We spend a lot of time together—he sometimes uses my flat as a refuge from home, and I take him on fishing trips once or twice a year. Stuff like that.”

He smiled when he thought of their last fishing trip, early the previous summer. Miles had made him laugh so hard he’d almost fallen into the water.

“But you were saying, Miles and your sister?” she prompted him.

He took a sip of his drink.

“Right. The two of them have always had friction, and even though Sarah wanted him to live at home this year, I think it’s making their relationship worse.” He shook his head. “He keeps hinting at a surprise he has to tell me about at Christmas, and if it’s that he’s planning to move in with his girlfriend, Sarah is going to explode. I never understand why she gives him so much hell; he’s a teenage boy, and he’s a good kid.”

Vivian touched his arm.

“I’m sure he is, but didn’t you say his father died when he was young? I know you’ve helped out, but being a single mom is tough; your sister likely has a lot of worries and burdens she doesn’t share with you.”

He had helped Sarah out a lot, but being an uncle was a lot different than being a father, he knew that.

“That’s probably true. You and Maddie have ended up with a good relationship, it seems?”

She nodded.

“We have, but the teenage years were rough. The mouth on that girl! We fought all the time.” She laughed. “It’s funny when I think about it now, but oof, the years between when she was thirteen and sixteen I fantasized about running away from home a few times a week. But now we’re very close, and I’m really glad I came on this trip with her.”

He put his hand on her arm. He’d been wanting to touch her since they sat down.

“Well that’s good, because I’m glad you’re here in England with Maddie—and me—too.”

He slid his hand into hers, and she smiled at him. She brushed her thumb back and forth across the back of his hand, and he felt his whole body relax. He leaned in closer to her. He could smell her perfume now. He liked that he’d never smelled it before now, that only people who got this close to her could smell it.

“Malcolm, I—”

“Shepherd’s pie is just what you need on a day like today.” The waitress appeared and set a plate down in front of Vivian. Malcolm’s chicken pie with a side of mushy peas followed suit. They quickly released each other’s hands. Malcolm looked down at his food. What had Vivian been about to say?

“Do you need another pint, ma’am? Sir?”

They both shook their heads and picked up their forks.

“Well, I’m right here if you do. Just give me a wave.”

Vivian took a bite of her shepherd’s pie. She finally looked in his direction again, though she didn’t quite make eye contact.