It seems like barely a few weeks have passed since Martha married Mr. Rabin’s brother, and today they are coming for tea to visit and to celebrate their son’s third birthday, and introduce their new baby girl, just twelve weeks old, to her cousins. The tyke is adorable, but somehow manages to leave sticky handprints on everything, and their last visit meant that the satin-covered settee in the parlor was positively ruined. Mr. Rabin refers to his visits as the Reign of Terror. I’ve made three kinds of biscuits, cucumber sandwiches, and salmon croquettes. There are the first strawberries of the season, with custard sauce, and all that is left is to bake the scones. It always makes me think of my mother; scones were the first thing she ever taught me to cook. So simple, and yet so satisfying. It took a few days for things to get back to some semblance of normal with Jag. I spent all my days working with Emily, and left him alone dealing with plaster issues on the third floor.
