Chapter 1751:


    Sandra knew better than to push back. Years of bad blood had long since hardened her mother’s feelings about Giselle. She let it go and changed the subject.


    “Forget it, Mom. I’m telling you as a courtesy, not asking you to supervise. Maybe you should find yourself a hobby—get a pet, take more walks, meet some people in the neighborhood. Just something to keep you upied.”


    Keira fixed her with a sharp look. “What, you want me to get married again at my age? Are you already tired of me?”


    Sandra exhaled, palms raised. “No. I just think you have too much free time. It wouldn’t hurt to keep yourself busy with something.”


    Keira let out a dramatic sigh. “Busy with what? Old men? Absolutely not. They get sick, fall apart, and the women beside them end up nursing them through it all. If I married one, I’d just be babysitting someone’s grandfather. I have money and I have peace—why on earth would I throw that away? I’m perfectly content on my own. I have servants to look after me. I don’t need a husband.”


    The doorbell chimed just as the maid was busy in the kitchen. Sandra went to answer it.


    On the doorstep stood an elderly man in a neatly pressed striped shirt and ck trousers, dark sunsses on his nose and a straw hat on his head. For someone his age, he radiated an unusual vitality. He blinked in mild surprise when he saw Sandra instead of Keira, then asked with careful courtesy, “Is Keira home?”


    Sandra took a moment to size him up. He had the kind of handsomeness that time hadn’t entirely erased—somewhere in his sixties, with good manners evident in every detail of his bearing.


    “Yes,” she replied, then turned toward the living room. “Mom? Someone’s here for you!”


    The man offered a warm chuckle. “So you’re Keira’s daughter. I’m Henson Perkins—just call me Henson. I’m your mother’s dance partner. I came to invite her to a gathering.” He paused, then continued, “She’s told me about you. Said you’re a designer—talented, beautiful, and capable. Seeing you now, I’d say she wasn’t exaggerating.” As he spoke, he angled his head, trying to peer past Sandra into the house. “Where is your mother? We’re already runningte.”


    F????d ?o?????? ??????s ???? g?????????e????.со??


    Keira appeared a momentter and went visibly tense the instant she saw him. “Why are you here?” she hissed, flustered. “My daughter will get the wrong idea.”


    Henson exined patiently. “How was I supposed to know she was visiting? You’re always at the park by five sharp, but it was already ten minutes past and you hadn’t shown up. I thought something might have happened to you, so I came to check. That’s all.” He gave a light shrug. “You know how it is at our age—idents happen.”


    “Oh, stop talking nonsense!” Keira eximed. “I’m in perfect health. My daughter takes me for check-ups every year. There’s nothing wrong with me. Now, go. I’m spending the day with her, so there will be no dancing tonight.”


    She was eager to send him off before Sandra could read too much into the situation.


    “All right then. We’ll go tomorrow—but you have toe,” Henson said pleasantly.


    “Fine. Off you go.” Keira waved him away and went to find Sandra, who had drifted into the kitchen to watch the maid at work. The aroma of food had already spread through the house.


    .


    .


    .