"Pick a bunch of that for me, would you dear?"
"My nurse grew this in her garden," Isla sniffed the plant, smiling at the familiar scent.
Comfort washed over her, as she thought of home and of watching Greta prepare it while Isla sat in the window and read.
"It was her favorite. She made me soaps out of it."
"It's my favorite as well," Nana grinned.
"Your nurse has wonderful taste. And it is lovely in soaps. Perhaps you'd like to help me make some with it soon? I know I'm running low, so the Big House definitely is as well."
"That would be lovely," Isla nodded, smiling at the old woman who had been so kind to her, so welcoming.
Everyone else had been welcoming, for the most part, but Nana hadn't made her uncomfortable with questions and treating her as a guest.
She'd put her to work, as if she'd known her for weeks rather than hours.