The kitchen was noisy, chaotic, and full of far too many people. Betsy's hair, which had been tied back in a braid, was started to unravel. Steam frizzed curls stuck out around her head in a fuzzy halo. Blowing at a strand hanging in front of her eyes, Betsy lifted the saucepan off of the cooker. Her clammy hands struggled for grip on the pan and hot water made a mad dash over the rim.

"Ouch," she screeched, the saucepan clattering on to the side with a loud bang. More boiling water spilt over the rim of the pan and soaked into the front of her blouse. "Damn it."

Pulling the shirt away from her body, Betsy hastily grabbed the dishtowel off of the side and patted at the wet material.

"Umm, mummy swore." Delilah giggled, her eyes glued to the mixing bowl in front of her.

Tommy laughed beside her, using his hands to mix the ingredients for the cookie dough while his wooden spoon remained untouched on the table top beside them. Neither noticed as Betsy froze, dishtowel in hand. For a moment she forgot all about the other people in the room as her lips curved up into a smile, her damp shirt forgotten as she hugged the dishtowel to her chest.

It wasn't the first time Delilah had slipped. It wasn't the first time the 'm' word had escaped her lips but Betsy had never made a big deal out of it. She didn't want to make her uncomfortable by drawing attention to the little slip. And, though Betsy hated herself for it, she would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy it deep within her heart.

After the loss of Peter, and with the doctor's diagnosis that she would not have any further children of her own, she had never thought she would get to have that title. But with Nick, Delilah, and Tommy, she felt that she had a chance for a real family. They already felt like her own. Yet despite how well things were going, she dared not hope it could become a reality. Her heart couldn't cope with disappointment. It made these moments, when Delilah called her 'mummy' without a thought, simultaneously warm her heart and send a bolt of terror through her at the same time.

Her own thoughts on the little slip up did not matter in that moment. Carol's opinion matter a lot more. It was the first time the word has escaped the young girl's mouth when her grandmother was around. Even though it was completely beyond her control, Betsy still felt her stomach roll as guilt welled up within her.

Biting her lip, the blond turned her head.

She expected animosity but, as she set her gaze upon the older woman, her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly the woman, who always looked so severe in her tweed armour, looked fragile. Carol's pink painted lips pulled up into a smile yet her eyes were pained, the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes deepening with the strain.

Betsy took a step in her direction. The older woman waved her away, her emotions rapidly stuffed one by one behind the mask of aristocracy she wore so well. "Don't mind me. Age is just catching up with me."

Mrs Reed, with her white hair wrapped in curlers, chose that moment to shuffle into the kitchen. "Age? You're a spring chicken. Talk to me about age when you reach eighty."

The women laughed.

"Now, what's going on in here? You can cut the tension with a butter knife." Ms Reed asked, her sharp eyes moving back and forth between the pair of them. "And don't say 'it's nothing'. I'm old not dumb."

Betsy squirmed under the woman's stare, her own gaze flitting between Carol and the completely clueless children who were still elbow deep in dough. "It's best if it's not discussed in front of the children." She finally stated.

Carol held up her hand in protest. "There's nothing to discuss. Honestly, you're making this into a larger issue than it is." Her eyes, drawn without her control towards the children, shimmered with unshed tears. She drew in a deep breath and then, like the words had been forced from her, she murmured, "I just wish my daughter was alive to be a part of all these special moments. She never got to see Tommy reach his first birthday. She's never going to bake cakes with her children. She's never going to see any of the milestones."

Betsy took a step closer to the grieving woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. Carol automatically stiffened at the contact but after a few moments she laid her cool hand on top of Betsy's. Beneath her hand, Betsy felt the older woman tremble as she fought to maintain control.

Betsy understood the pain Carol was feeling; felt an echo of it within her own heart. She had had so many hopes and dreams for Peter. They had started forming the moment she found out she was having a baby; the list grew longer and more extensive as the months passed. They were the hopes and dreams that were snatched away before they had a chance to be anything more than a wishful thought and it burned like a red hot poker being stabbed into her heart every time she focused on those decimated wishes.

Carol patter her hand before she stepped away from Betsy. Then, her shoulders pulled back and her chin lifted.

Allowing her hand to fall to her side, Betsy watched her hide behind her cold façade. The blonde wrapped her arms around her waist and drew in a deep breath.

"I don't blame you for anything Elizabeth, no matter what you may believe." Carol stated lowly as the children continued making a mess, completely oblivious to what was happening around them. "I never expected to outlive my daughter. No parent ever does. But I am glad that even though they do not have her, they at least have you. You have made an impact on them both in just a matter of months. You are exactly what this family needed."

Betsy blinked against the sudden surge of emotion welling within her. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." Carol stated. "I was only stating the truth. Now, I believe that is enough chatter. We need to get these cakes into the oven if we're to have them after dinner."

With a clap of her hands, the woman strode towards the children. The discussion firmly closed, she crouched down on to the floor, uncaring that the eggs and flour concoction was soaking into her overpriced clothing.

With a shake of her head, Betsy turned her back on them and focused on the cooking once more. She hadn't had a chance to forewarn Nick about the family dinner. Well she could have, but with the way he had rushed to the office, she didn't want to interrupt him with something so trivial. She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. Maybe she should warn him.

"Betsy, can you get the baking tray out? I'll make the starters." Mrs Reed ordered, wrapping her apron around her waist as she bustled around her kitchen.

"I'm on it." Betsy murmured in response, bustling around the kitchen while the phone call to Nick felt to the back of her mind.

It was only when the table was laid, the delicious of scents of home cooked food filling the air, and cheerful chatter as everyone sat down at the table that she remembered. Placing a large jug of water in the centre of the table.

"I'll be back in a moment." Betsy stated to the table at large. She received a few vague nods but her exit was mostly ignored.

Rushing through the many halls, Betsy located her bag in the lounge, her phone stuffed into one of the numerous pockets. She swallowed away the sudden dryness in her throat. Several missed calls were displayed on her screen, all of them from Nick.

Swiping her finger across the screen, she was returning the call before she even made a conscious decision to do so. Her heart thudded loudly and her palms became clammy as she waited for him to pick up.

"Nicholas Davenport." Came Nick's usual stiff greeting just a few moments later.

"Nick? It's Betsy."

"Hey, I've just pulled up. I'll be in the house in just a moment."

Betsy glanced in the direction of the driveway as if she could see if through closed curtains and solid walls. "Okay, see you in a bit."

As soon as he cut the call, her legs were moving. She made it to the entrance hall just as Nick stepped through the doorway. He smiled as he spotted her, though it did nothing to remove the tension in his body. Nick liked to pretend he was emotionless but Betsy liked to think that she was getting better at reading the man behind the mask.

"Is everything okay? Did you manage to get things sorted out at the office?"

Nick shifted at the mention of the office. He didn't immediately speak, he just looked at Betsy. She could see his mind working away.

"Is it that bad?" She asked, taking a step closer as her head tilted to the right.

Nick shook his head. "The office is fine. My office needs a bit of a spring clean but other than that, there is nothing wrong at the office." He paused, his mouth opening as if to say something else before it snapped shut.

"There's something else though?" Betsy asked, making no further effort to close the distance between them.

Nick looked awful. In the hours since they had parted, a dark shadow had formed on his jaw. Normally, Betsy found his five o clock shadow to be attractive. Yet, as he looked back at her with his weary gaze, it just made him look exhausted.

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Is it urgent? Only your in-laws are in the dining room."

"My in-laws?" Nick asked, his head dropping when Betsy nodded in response. His teeth ground together and the smallest of furrows formed between his brows.

"The dinner is already on the table so if you need to eat, we should probably go now."

Nick's breath hissed through his teeth and his hand lifted to scratch at his stubble covered jaw. "It can wait a few hours. But I do want to talk to you, okay? Sooner rather than later."

Betsy's gaze narrowed. "Should I be concerned?"

Nick blinked. He hesitated a little too long before he replied, "Of course not." His stared deep into Betsy's eyes, his gaze drinking in her face as if it was the last time he was ever going to see it. "We can talk about this later. Come on, dinner is getting cold."

Closing the distance between them, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into the shelter of her body. Her feet were moving before she could put up a protest, her mind still trying to process everything he had said so far.

As they walked through the halls, the scent of food leading the way, he leant down and pressed a lingering kiss to her hair. It sent her pulse racing and not for a good reason. It felt like he was trying to say something with that kiss and she should be able to understand.

But she wasn't a mind reader. No matter how much she wished she was.

Her stomach knotted uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Betsy chose to bask in the warmth of Nick's embrace instead. Worrying would get her nowhere. For now, she just wanted to enjoy good food and happy company.

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Her mind could not stop itself from going back to what Nick wanted to tell her. It could only be bad news. What else could make Nicholas Davenport so unsettled?

Betsy forced a smile on her lips and tried not to let the worry show on her face. She had children to entertain and a family dinner to sit through. The bad news would just have to wait.