The afternoon was warm when the black car appeared again on the dirt road leading to the ranch. This time, I was on the porch, sitting in the rocking chair, feeling the girls kick while the sun caressed my belly.
Marco appeared behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder.
"She's back," he said, his voice neutral, but I felt the tension.
"I know." I covered his hand with mine. "Trust me."
He hesitated, then nodded. He didn't say anything, but stayed there, beside me, as the car parked and Mrs. Foster stepped out.
She looked different from the first time. Lighter, somehow. Still elegant, still impeccable in her light linen dress and low heels, but there was something in her face—an expectation, perhaps. A care.
"Alice," she called, approaching. "Thank you for receiving me again."
"Than
