It was all lovely games for her, a frisking hound in a field of rabbits, and Abraham was right to fret. Matilda was so easily comfortable with Ewan’s return, even when it had brought a changed man. To a point, it seemed as if she’d been hungry for this very evolution. It played well to her wild growth, petals unfurling in a furious spring. She was blushing and coy with all the attention her brother lavished on her in Eugene’s presence.<br/><br/>“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Genie, aren’t you happy to have my darling brother back?” She was laughing and it wasn’t quite mockery, but it wasn’t quite kind. Tillie was reveling in the attention. Ewan hadn’t been there to watch her lean into this kind of flirtation, but it wouldn’t surprise him. A natural turn of her flaring heart. She did not remove herself from her brother’s lap, but her eyes were wholly on Eugene, a little like she longed to be with him. It was unfair to suggest, when Ewan was doing little to force her to stay.<br/><br/>When they did rise to make their way to the office, Tillie fell briefly in step with Eugene to press her shoulder to his before drifting back in line with her brother. It might have given the family friend the ammunition of suggestion if Tillie had not been so captivated by her brother’s kisses but moments before. Ewan would have had to be a much more naïve man to believe she’d ever given Eugene Grant similar gratification. Eugene, for his part, puffed his chest just a little more. He did not know that he was grasping at straws, clinging to those bread crumb insinuations. Matilda was still laughing.<br/><br/>The levity of it all was stripped away smartly as Eugene spread the papers on the desk. By the time he was calling for the lady of the house, she might as well have been summoned up like some severe spirit. Ada appeared in the doorway a half breath before Eugene Grant spoke her necessity. Matilda’s flitting came to an abrupt halt, and the girl seemed to sink back into some corner of the room. She was watching carefully.<br/><br/>Tillie was not frightened of her mother, but she knew when it was best not to add to the incoming squall. Ada was still chilly over her son’s willful return, and she did not look essentially pleased by the apparent proceedings in the office. There was no falter in her when she stepped into the space, though she had undoubtedly seen her husband’s ghost as clearly in Ewan’s silhouette as the other two. If anything, the familiarity of it seemed like an additional afront. It was cruel to bring up her loss, wasn’t it?<br/><br/>“I am here to sign.” Ada said, chin up as she crossed toward the large desk. She passed Ewan without looking at him as she went. Ada held out her hand for a pen from Eugene. “It would be your father’s wish, after all.” She said to Ewan, though she’d still not turned her face in his direction. For Ada, saying such a thing wasn’t spiteful, but it might as well have been. This was still Henley’s house, so far as the Bradshaw matriarch was concerned. When she did finally look at her son, her pale green stare was piercing. “I hope you will run this family and your father’s business with some measure of respect.” She said. “We are in your care, after all.”<br/><br/>Tillie shifted where she stood. It was a lot, she knew, for her mother to say that much. While Tillie had spent the years dreaming of Ewan’s return, her mother had come to terms with his metaphorical death to their family. It was both painful and insulting to have mourned her fractured family only to have Ewan stomp back through the door without a thought to her suffering. And Ada had done it with such grace, at that. Matilda inhaled sharply, about to encourage Ewan to be understanding—Mother would surely come around with some time—but she thought better of it. It did not seem to her that either of them would appreciate her saying as much.<br/><br/>Josephine stuck her head through the door, searching the room quickly for the lady of the house. “Mrs. Bradshaw, the guest room has been prepared, like you asked.” The maid stole a furtive glance in Ewan’s direction. How dramatic. It seemed to her that it was somewhat delightfully appalling that he’d managed to send his mother out from her own room in less than an hour. She had been told what the young master’s intentions were, with the sleeping arrangements, but it seemed that only Ewan had forgotten the sort of stubbornness with which Ada could hold her ground. It had been a rather childlike effort to corral the two women so. Where that was surely a frustration to Ada Bradshaw, Josephine thought it was, guiltily, a little bit thrilling.