And just like when they were growing up, Violet was still incessantly chattering. “Mom and Dad called…”

Camille immediately tensed.

“But I told them you were doing fine.”

There. She relaxed again.

“But then Daisy called. I told her the same thing, that you were doing fine. But you know Daisy. She started talking in that new French accent of hers, bristled up, and said if you don’t call her within the next few days, she’s flying home. I think she actually might, Cam. She needs to hear from you herself.”

“Well, she’s not going to.” Violet might boss her around at times, but she was pretty much a live-and-let-live kind of sister. Daisy was a nightmare. “Just keep telling her I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Camille stuck a fork in the cod, pushed it around her plate. “Behind the barn, all those acres on the east slope, where everything used to freeze out for Dad…what are you doing there, Vi? With all that lavender?”

Violet brightened. “Camille! You asked me a question! You realize, this is the first conversation you’ve actually offered since you got home. I knew you were starting to get better. Pete said-”

“Pete? You mean Pete MacDougal? Why is he in this conversation?”

“Nothing! No reason! None at all!”

Camille made an impatient motion. Something was wrong with her. Every time she’d turned around for the past four days, there was Pete, invading her thoughts, her mind, her sleep. Naturally, she’d been denying it, but lying to herself was getting tougher. And why bother? When a woman was nuts, one more screw loose hardly made any difference. “So forget Pete. I wasn’t trying to ask you about Pete-I was only trying to ask why you planted so much lavender. What are you planning to do with it all.”