Chapter 49 Gossip And Tea

• Eleanor’s POV
• If anyone had told me that my son, Christian Ricci—the same man who didn’t know which side of the plate a fork should go on—would be in my kitchen washing dishes like a dutiful husband, I would’ve called for a doctor. Or a priest. Or both. Because what the fuck did I just watch?
• Yet, there I was, sitting with Martha at my little tea nook, still trying to make sense of what my eyes had witnessed not long ago.