Mary's POV
The kitchen smelled of rosemary and thyme as I supervised the final preparations for dinner. Lucy moved around the space with effortless grace, checking the roast and adjusting the table settings with meticulous attention to detail.
"Mrs. Simpson, do you think we should use the Waterford crystal tonight?" she asked, holding up one of the delicate glasses to the light. "I noticed Jack seemed particularly tired these past few days. A nice setting might lift his spirits."
"Excellent idea, Lucy. Jack needs the comforts of home right now," I replied, watching her set the table with practiced precision. "You remind me so much of myself at your age."
Lucy lowered her eyes modestly.
"That's the highest compliment, Mrs. Simpson."
The front door clicked open, and Lucy's head snapped up. She immediately abandoned her task and glided toward the foyer. I smiled to myself. *Perfect instincts*.
