For a moment, he seemed to pause too. As their eyes locked, Roseanne suddenly broke into a brilliant smile. It caught Owen Reynoldspletely off guard, dazzling him and sending ripples across the calm surface of his heart.


    "Ahem!" Corley coughed loudly, breaking the spell.


    Roseanne and Owen quickly looked away from each other.


    Corley just grumbled internally.


    "Are you okay, Mr. Sullivan?" Mamie asked with genuine concern.


    Scales tried to grab her sleeve under the table to stop her, but his hand found only empty air.


    Corley cleared his throat. "It''s a bit spicy."


    "Really? It''s that spicy? I thought it was fine. Here, have some water."


    "...Thanks," Corley managed. *Just what I needed,* he thought.


    "Scales, why were you pulling on me just now? Did you need something?" Mamie asked.


    "..." Scales stayed silent. Nope. He didn''t dare need anything. This was fine.


    After dinner, Mr. Smith was busy again, clearing the table, washing dishes, and cleaning the kitchen.


    Mamie sat in a chair in the main room, her feet soaking up the warmth from two braziers. Knowing she was sensitive to the cold, Gail had lit them just for her and brought them over.


    "Here you go, Mamie. I''lle back to add more charcoalter."


    "Oh, thank you, Gail! You''re the best!"


    Gail blushed and scurried back to her room.


    Warmed by the fire, Mamie felt cozy all over. She watched the silhouette of Mr. Smith moving back and forth in the kitchen, a tireless, efficient shadow on the wall, and founde herself mesmerized. It was the first time she''d ever seen a man hangl?, kitchen duties so skillfully. All those old-fashioned notions about a man''s ce being outside the kitchen simply didn''t exist here. And what was more, Ms. Smith and her


    children didn''t seem to think


    anything of it; it was clearly the norm for them.


    "What are you thinking about?" Scales asked suddenly.


    Mamie propped her chin on her hand. "I''m thinking that when I get married, I want a husband who''s a great cook! That way, I''ll get to eat delicious food every day without having to cook or go to a restaurant."


    "...That''s it?" Scales asked.


    "What do you mean, *that''s it*? Isn''t that enough? What does it say about a man if he can cook?"


    Scales looked at her, puzzled.


    "It means he knows how to enjoy life, he''s good-tempered, patient, and best of all, he knows how to please a foodie!"


    "Is that so?" Scales murmured, looking thoughtful.


    In the backyard, Owen Reynolds and Corley had called Carlson aside. Roseanne was there too.


    SAS


    Owen took out a business card and handed it to him. "This is Professor Farrell, one of the country''s top nephrologists. I''ve already spoken with him. He''ll be in the province next month for a conference and will be consulting at a major hospital for a month. Take your mother to see him directly. He''ll arrange for all the necessary tests and map out a treatment n."


    Carlson took the card, his hands trembling slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Reynolds!"


    "Don''t mention it. If you run into any issues, you can call the number on the card."


    It had to be Professor Farrell''s


    personal cell number, something an ordinary person could never get. And even if they did, there was no guarantee the professor would answer. But Owen Reynolds had arranged everything.


    Corley spoke up, his tone serious. "What are your ns now?"


    Carlson looked at him, confused. "My ns?"


    Corley instinctively reached for his pocket, a clear motion to grab a cigarette, but a nce at Roseanne made him stop. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead.


    "That''s right. Fabian and Jay are in custody, and they''ll likely face a hefty sentence. But their father is still out there. And judging by how his sons turned out, he''s probably no saint either..."