Wiping her hands nervously on her skirt, Maia shrugged,“I suppose in a manner of speaking—he has a bed to sleep in, fresh bath towels and a roof over his head.” “But did you hear him? His family lives close by—and his father is dying. Clearly, something isn’t right between them, otherwise, why onearthwould he stay here?”Camilla glanced in the direction of Jacob’s room, a forlorn look on her tanned face. “So sad. I can’t imagine not being close to my family, especially my papa. Maybe we should ask him?” Maia’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “No, no that’s very forward Camilla. We shouldn’t be that direct with a stranger, regardless that he is staying in this house. Not my business.” Maia then shot a warning glance at her. “Oryoursfor that matter.” The young woman shrugged and faced toward the kitchen window. She turned on the tap and began filling a pot with water, apparently in an effort to begin making pasta noodles for whatever lunch she had planned. Instinctively Maia’s stomach grumbled. Camilla was an excellent cook.
