“Hi, gorgeous. Hey, what happened to you? You look like you just got out of the ring after doing a couple of rounds with George Foreman.”

“His name wasn’t George, it was Thomas,” Zara corrected him. Loretta’s advice not to correct adults hadn’t sunk in with her daughter.

“You mean you really were in a fight?” Luc sounded impressed. “I hope the other guy looks worse.”

“Luc, don’t encourage her,” Loretta protested.

“Thomas doesn’t have a scratch,” Zara said.

“I used to do a little boxing,” Luc said, addressing his comments to Loretta. “If Zara needs to learn how to defend herself-”

“I could have punched him,” Zara insisted. “But by then Mrs. Brainard was looking and I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“All right, that’s enough talk about fighting,” Loretta said firmly. “Luc, what can I help you with?” Coffee cake, tea bread or me?

“The question is, what can I help you with?” He had a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Loretta stifled a gasp. “You talked to Melanie?”

“I’ll tell you all about it if you’ll give me a sample of whatever it is I smell cooking.”

“It’s pumpkin bread. A new recipe.” She went to the cooling rack and selected a small loaf, still warm from the oven, and brought it to the cutting board. “Talk, or you’re not getting a single bite.”

“Melanie said she’ll do it.”

Loretta’s knife clattered to the cutting board. Operating on pure instinct, she launched herself at Luc, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, you wonderful man!”