“Jennifer, yes, but Alison’s too busy making her mark on the world to have time for men right now, other than as a temporary convenience,” Nathan said, affection evident in his tone.

“She was always Lydia’s favorite, wasn’t she, your Alison?”

“From the time they were babies, Lydia said Jenny was born with a conventional soul, but that Alison was destined for greater things. Lydia was Alison’s godmother, as a matter of fact. I’m surprised you remembered.” Falling silent, Nathan swirled the dregs of his drink, then finished it in one swallow. “Come through to the back, and I’ll fix us something to eat.”

Pushing himself up from the depths of his chair, Adam followed Nathan into the entry again. Now he saw that in the room to the left, which had been a seldom-used formal parlor in Nathan’s parents’ day, a baby grand piano stood alone on the bare polished floorboards. Adam remembered the old upright that had stood in Nathan and Jean’s sitting room, the recipient of much abuse by Nathan as he pounded out the old music hall tunes he’d learned from his mother. Before he could comment, Nathan beckoned him through the center door.

The back of the house, which had originally been divided into kitchen, scullery, and dining room, had been opened into one large room. A kitchen-dining area filled one end, a comfortable den the other, and windows had been added along the back of the house from which Adam imagined one could see the river on better days.

Nathan gestured towards the table, already laid with place mats and stoneware, as he went through to the kitchen. “Sit down while I organize things a bit. I found some carrot and lentil soup in the freezer, then I thought we’d have omelettes and a green salad, if that suits.” He checked a pot on the stove, gave it a stir, then went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Australian Chardonnay. “It’s all down to Ikea,” he said with a glance at Adam as he started a corkscrew into the bottle. “From the furniture to the cutlery. I’d never have managed otherwise.”