“Isabella had lit the candles, and their light shone softly through the long windows, glinting on the dark foliage of the rosebushes and illuminating the large white magnolia flowers that had opened after the last brief shower of rain. Leon’s father paused in the garden to breathe in the perfumed air. He looked, Laura thought as she watched from the ballroom window, like a poet in his best clothes. Leon, too, had changed and slicked down his hair. He was rather awkwardly holding a bunch of flowe...rs — marigolds from Mrs. Murphy’s garden. Laura felt shy, as though she did not know this transformed Leon. She waited until her mother had answered their knock before she came into the kitchen. When she did, her mother was holding the marigolds and Leon, looking embarrassed, was staring at the floor. “Some wine, Colin?” Harry asked Leon’s father. “Red or white?” “I’ll just have something soft,” he replied, glancing toward Leon. “I don’t drink anymore.” Laura caught Leon’s quick intake of breath and saw the muscles around his mouth tighten.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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