Tamara stared out the carriage window at the quaint little wattle-and-daub cottage ringed by a well-tended herb and wildflower garden. She surmised that the garden was the work of Doctor Nichols' daughter-in-law, or perhaps even his granddaughter, prior to her mysterious pregnancy. Either way, the place had the feel of a woman's hand at work.
At the approach of the carriage, the door to the cottage opened and a tall, thin woman with streaks of gray in her hair emerged to stand at the threshold. She had a long face with wide brown eyes and thick, rosy lips. It was clear that she had been handsome once, but now she glowed with the steadfast benevolence of one used to raising children.
The woman caught Tamara's eye and smiled tightly, anxiously, then hurried to help them from the carriage.
"You're expected. I'm Julia Nichols. My father-in-law said you would be coming to help us. He's sorry that he could not be here to greet you, but he was called to the Widow Larkin's very early this morning." Julia's voice was low and melodic, but there was a trace of nervousness beneath it,
