The scent of garlic and roasted chicken filled the air as Annabel entered the apartment.
In sharp contrast to the sterile air in her new office, the scent was familiar and reassuring.
Fred was humming a tune while stirring something in a pan in the kitchen, his back to her.
“I’m back,” she said.
He turned with a kind smile.
“Welcome home,” he said.
He pointed to the table. “The meal is ready.”
After they sat down, she filled him in on her day. She informed him about Jude's message, the project, the view and her office.
Her fear and the slight shudder of doubt that had attempted to enter were not mentioned.
“That’s wonderful, Annabel,” he said. “I had faith in your ability.”
His words were a silent confirmation of her choice, a tender embrace. He had the ability to make he
