Chapter 57

• Lila
• Settling into my seat, I picked up my fork. The scent of rosemary and thyme tickled my nose, the familiar aroma of Joan’s roasted chicken filling the room. Yet, my appetite was as temperamental as a spoiled car wheel, sputtering and stalling with each passing moment.
• The lively chatter around the dining table. Joan’s soft laugh, Ronan’s booming voice, and the occasional clink of utensils should have been comforting.