While Calliope was busy on set, Mavis was thriving in the Sutton household. Portia Sutton might not have been the most attentive caregiver, but her mother—and, really, everyone in the family-was warm and wonderfully nurturing. The Suttons' housekeeper made meals that were both delicious and restorative, taking special care to pamper Mavis. The results were obvious: Mavis grew visibly healthier, the color had finally returned to her face, and she no longer looked so gaunt and hollowed out.

With no job to rush to and nothing else weighing on her mind, Mavis found herself truly content. The only occasional cloud on her horizon was Uriah Stewart's relentless attempts to see her.

Uriah simply couldn't accept her selective amnesia-especially since she seemed to have forgotten only him. No matter how often he sought her out, Mavis kept up her act, feigning ignorance and pretending he was a complete stranger. After going through this routine several times, Uriah was on the verge of losing his patience.

It was on one of these days that Uriah arrived yet again. When Portia caught sight of him, her frustration was palpable.

“Mr. Stewart, this simply isn't you," Portia said, folding her arms. "Mavis has already told you it doesn't matter whether she remembers. She's caught up on her past, she's made her peace with it, and she's happy to move forward without you. Isn't it time you both just lived your own lives in peace?"

"But she can't just forget me!" Uriah protested, sounding wounded and exasperated. "She remembers everyone else why am I the only one left behind?"

It was clear how much this bothered him-especially since Mavis had become so distant with him lately. He'd convinced himself he could let her go, let her find some peace, but now that she had, he realized he didn't want to. He needed her to remember.

"If she remembers everything and still wants nothing to do with me, I'll let her go," Uriah said, jaw set. "But she has to remember me first. Portia, please, ask her to come out. I want to take her out."

"She doesn't want to go anywhere with you, Mr. Stewart." Portia stood in the garden, watching him with weary disbelief. "You're only making things harder this way. She's turned you down again and again-how much more obvious can she be? All you're doing is showing how stubborn you are-and honestly, it's getting tiresome."

Portia shook her head, sighing. "You two are better off as friends. She was your protégé, nothing more. You weren't interested in her romantically. She loved you; now she doesn't even remember you. Isn't that what you wanted? So why are

you so desperate to bring her memory back? Just so she can be heartbroken over you all over again?"

She fixed him with a steady look. "If you truly care, you should want her to be happy.

Isn't that what a teacher ought to do for his student?"

"That's not it-I wouldn't let her love go unreturned!" Uriah blurted.

Portia's curiosity was piqued. "Oh? So when she loved you, you weren't interested, but now that she's forgotten about you, you finally realize how important she is and want her by your side? Is that it?"

Color rose to Uriah's cheeks and he dropped his gaze, saying nothing.

Portia gave him a sympathetic but resigned shrug. "Too little, too late, Mr. Stewart."

"She still has to remember," Uriah muttered, stubborn as ever. "Once she does, we'll talk it through."

Portia looked him over, recognizing the unyielding set of his jaw. He wouldn't give up easily. If she told him Mavis wouldn't see him, he'd either Camp out at the door or wander the house until someone gave in. Each day, he grew more persistent, more immovable. Mavis could try to avoid him, but he'd just linger at their gate or invite himself in during meals, determined not to leave until he'd seen her.