Blessings: Book Two in the Providence Series

By Grace Richardson

Traveling to Brookhaven on business, Kathleen decides to take a detour to Caroline Porters hometown of Maple Glen. Although it is quite different from Carolines 1880 description, Kathleen is moved by the remnants of the past that still remain.

Still determined to get to the bottom of the questions she has regarding the foreclosure on Mrs. Evobas mansion, Kathleen travels on to Brookhaven.

Follow as Kathleen marvels at what God wants to teach her through Carolines compassion and through the handsome man of faith who is waiting for her in Brookhaven.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449797003

Grace Richardson

Grace Richardson lives with her family in Somerset, New York.

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Copyright © 2013 Grace Richardson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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1-[phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9699-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9698-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9700-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013910060

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/19/2013

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

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Acknowledgements

My foremost gratitude is to the Lord for the gift of this story.

My husband, who encouraged me chapter by chapter.

Genevieve, Janet and Sharon—you know who you are! Without their kind words, I would never have had the courage to publish this series.

- 1 -

Mid-morning on Monday, Kathleen glanced at the clock on her dash and was proud of the distance she was covering in such a short time. She was clearly going to make it to Roanoke by tonight.

She replaced the CD in her player with a more upbeat one. She was just about to hit PLAY when her cell phone rang. It was her father.

Hi, Dad.

Where are you? he asked.

Just outside of Knoxville, she answered. I’m making good time.

Sounds like it, he replied. No funny sounds coming from the engine? No lights on the dash board lit? Nothing unusual?

She smiled.

No, Dad. Everything is fine.

Alright. Well, your mother wants to talk with you.

There was a short pause.

Hello, Katie. Is everything going okay?

Yes, just fine.

Good, dear. Where are you spending the night tonight? Did you call and make reservations? Is it a nice hotel?

I called and made reservations last night at a nice hotel in Roanoke, Virginia.

Oh, alright. Drive safely, honey.

She handed the telephone back to her husband.

I guess I will let you go. Don’t you know better than to drive and talk on the phone at the same time? he chided.

I have handsfree, Dad.

Oh, yes, I forgot about that. Have fun.

She laughed.

Bye, Dad.

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Later, she began to get hungry and decided to pull off for lunch. She was sitting in the drive-thru of a restaurant when her cell phone rang again. Her heart began to race when she saw HARRISON, BENJAMIN on the screen. She answered quickly.

Hello, she said.

Hello, Kathleen. It is Ben. How is the trip going?

Very good actually. I just left Tennessee and I’m stopping for a late lunch.

You are making good time. Where are you spending the night?

Roanoke.

Oh, alright, so you have a few more hours to go.

Yes. I have a reservation at a hotel right outside Roanoke, off the highway I’m on.

Excellent. I’m guessing you will probably be to Brookhaven by late tomorrow night then. Good thing I made the first reservation for Tuesday night.

Actually, Ben, that is something I needed to speak with you about. I’m not going to be there until late Wednesday. I have decided to make a detour.

A detour?

Yes, to a town called Maple City, New York.

There was a short pause on the other end.

Wait a minute. Didn’t you tell me that the journal was written in a Maple something-or-other in New York? Is that where you are going?

She smiled.

Yes. It was Maple Glen in 1880, today is called Maple City. I want to see if any history has been preserved.

That would be awesome. I’m jealous. What a history trip.

I may find nothing. It was a trend several decades ago to destroy the old and build the new. All of the history may be lost.

Yes, but maybe not. What a great idea! I will call The Haven for you and let them know you will be arriving a day late.

I will pay them for Tuesday night as well. I don’t want them out a night’s fee.

They probably won’t let you do that. But you can mention it when you get here.

Oh, Ben, one other thing before I forget. Have you spoken with Mrs. Evoba yet?

I left a message for her this morning, but she hasn’t called me back. Why?

I finished the journal and it ended at a very interesting time in her grandmother’s life. I was just wondering if there were any more. I am hoping her grandmother kept many journals throughout her life. The next one I would be very interested in. The one I have ended with her getting on a train headed for Boston.

You’re kidding, he said. So, none of that journal took place anywhere near Brookhaven. That is odd. I will ask her when I see her. She said the journal had a direct tie-in with the mansion.

Thank you, she said. I appreciate it.

All right, I’ll let you go, he said. I have to tell you, I am looking forward to your arrival.

She smiled.

And I’m looking forward to being there. Now, I must go. I’m next in the drive-thru.

He chuckled as he said, I will call again tomorrow.

Please be careful, he added softly.

I will. Bye.

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Kathleen let the hot water run over her as she stood in the shower of her hotel room. She knew she couldn’t stay there forever. She needed to go over her driving itinerary for the next day.

Over the past hours of driving, she had grown very excited about her trip to Maple City. She hoped she would find something worthwhile while there.

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The next morning, after eating a bagel in the hotel lobby, she was on the road by 6:30 a.m., following her itinerary to Maple City, New York.

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Kathleen turned her CD player down when her cell phone rang. It was Alice, her assistant.

Hello, Alice, she said cheerfully. What’s up?

Hello, Ms. Robertson, she said. I just wanted to give you a call and let you know that I received your message first thing this morning. But, when I came in, Mr. Sinnip was waiting for you in your office. He was very angry when I told him you wouldn’t be in until the end of the week.

Kathleen rolled her eyes.

You know what, Alice? I don’t care. Are there any important messages for me?

Nothing I couldn’t delegate down the line.

Excellent. I will try to keep in touch with you as much as possible while I’m away.

No need, Ms. Robertson. I will call you if anything comes up that can’t be delegated. You enjoy your vacation. It is the first one you have taken since taking you replaced your father over a year ago.

Thank you, Alice, but this is a business trip.

Still, try to enjoy yourself.

I will. Have a good day.

You, too. Bye for now.

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True to his word, Ben called her early in the afternoon.

I spoke with Margie this morning. She is thrilled that you are coming. She said that she knows of another journal in her attic.

Oh, that’s great. Does she know if it was written after the one I just read?

I asked her that, but she didn’t know. She confided in me that she only read a portion of the first journal.

What? But I thought she originally gave it to you for you to learn the history of the mansion.

She did. She said that her mother told her stories of her grandmother and the mansion long ago. However, when she herself tried to read the journal, she could never get past a certain point. She thought it was too sad. Something about her grandmother not being able to marry the man she truly loved or something like that. Is any of that making sense?

Yes, the journal does contain a story line regarding a man the writer loved, but couldn’t have. So, she only knows that the journals somehow tie in with the Brookhaven mansion from stories her mother told her?

That’s what she said, he replied. You can talk to her more about it when you get here.

Yes, I’m confused. Well, anyway, I’m glad there is another one. Hopefully, it will come just after the end of this one.

Where are you right now? he asked.

The way I figure it, I’m a little over two hours from Maple City.

Great. So, what is your plan? Are you going to spend the night in Maple City and head over to Brookhaven in the morning?

Well, Brookhaven is only about five hours from Maple City, so I may not leave there until after lunch tomorrow. It all depends on what there is to see in Maple City.

I understand. All right, well, call me if you find anything interesting. Otherwise, I’ll talk to you tomorrow when you get here.

I will. Bye for now.

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She didn’t arrive in Maple City until close to 5 p.m. She was sorry she hadn’t made hotel reservations here as well. She had learned on trips with her father that sometimes it is hard to find a room after 5 p.m.

Maple City looked like a town that had been upscale at one time, fell due to some unforeseen reason and now was on its way back up again. It had very large homes, but many of them had been converted into apartments. Still, many parts of the residential areas were being brought back to their former splendor.

She was driving, admiring the architecture of the old homes when a sign caught her eye. It read: Maple City Historical Society. The sign said that the office was open Monday through Friday until 3 p.m., but Kathleen could see a light on in the front window, so she pulled over and headed for the front door.

She was only halfway up the sidewalk when an older woman opened the door.

You must be Darlene, she said. The Society is so thankful for your donations.

She looked around Kathleen, obviously looking for the donations.

Oh, I’m sorry, she said. You must have me confused with someone else. I am not Darlene. My name is Kathleen. Kathleen Robertson.

The woman began to giggle.

No, I’m sorry, she said. I have been waiting on this Darlene-girl since 4:30. She is supposed to be dropping off some donations, but she has yet to come. What can I help you with?

I apologize for bothering you outside of your posted hours, but…

Oh, don’t you worry about that. This place is practically my second home.

She smiled at Kathleen.

I am guessing, she continued, from your accent that you are not from around here. Much further South, I would guess.

Kathleen returned her smile.

Yes, ma’am. I am from Gellerton, Alabama.

I knew it, she said loudly, as if she had discovered a secret. Where are my manners? Come on in. Come on in. We’ll talk inside.

Kathleen followed the infectious woman inside an old home that had been converted into an office of sorts.

Would you like some lemonade? I just made some for myself and Darlene, wherever she is.

That would be lovely. Thank you.

Kathleen sat in a seat across from an old wooden desk with a small plastic name plate read: GERTIE WELLER.

While Ms. Weller had her back turned to her, it occurred to Kathleen that she had close personal knowledge of a family that had once resided in this town. It felt wrong and invasive to give too much information away, so she decided to guard her tongue as she spoke with this woman. After all, the journal was someone else’s family history, not her own.

The woman placed a cup of lemonade in front of her.

So, what brings you to Maple City?

I am doing some research, she said simply.

Oh, you college students. I don’t know how you do all of those papers constantly. If I had to go to college these days, I would be researched-out. You know what I’m saying? she said with a big laugh.

Kathleen did not correct her. It might be easier this way.

I read online that Maple City used to be called Maple Glen. Is that correct?

Yes, she said, rolling her eyes. Some genius in 1925 decided that Maple Glen sounded too old-fashioned. He thought Maple City would bring in industry, so it was changed.

If we could go back a few years before that, I am interested in the 1878 to 1881 time period.

Oh, she said, jumping from her chair. That was a grand time in Maple City, uh, Maple Glen.

She walked to the other side of the room.

I have a map of the town from 1879. Would you like to see it?

Yes, I would, said Kathleen as she started to rise.

No, no, you stay put. I’ll bring it to you. It’ll be easier to see on the desk anyway.

Ms. Weller cleared a large spot on her desk and laid the map out flat while Kathleen took a notepad from her purse.

See this area here? That was the city proper. It had the post office, general store, bank, blacksmith, church, etc.

Kathleen couldn’t believe her eyes as she looked at the drawings of buildings with words like Maple Glen Post Office, Stikes Mercantile and then she saw words that made her heart sing: Miranda’s Dress Shop.

And then out in these areas were the large land parcels of family properties. Many of these families date back to the beginnings of Maple City.

She pointed to a large parcel of land with a big home on it.

Take the Thomases for instance. One of the founders of Maple Glen was Abraham Thomas. He settled in this area after making a fortune in international trade in the 1850s, I believe.

1840s, Kathleen corrected without thought.

She looked up embarrassed at Ms. Weller. I’m sorry. I read that somewhere in my research.

Ms. Weller smiled at her.

Oh, 1840s, 1850s, whatever. Point is, he helped found our great town. That’s what is important.

Kathleen returned her smile.

Is the Porter homestead on this map?

Yes, yes, it is. Here it is over here.

Kathleen lit up. There it was. Caroline’s home.

Are any of those old homesteads still around?

Only the Thomas one remains. It was turned into apartments in the 1970s. We have been trying to raise money for four years now to restore it back to its glory. You can see the faded sign in our front window asking for donations. It is in one of the revitalized districts in Maple City. A restoration now would be perfect timing for the home and its neighbors.

Could you draw me a map of how to get to it? I’d like to see it.

She smiled at Kathleen.

I can do better than that. I’ll take you there. Phooey on Darlene what’s-her-name. She is over an hour late. I’m leaving.

Really? You don’t mind?

Not at all. Let’s go.

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They weren’t driving long when they entered an old, established neighborhood.

You wouldn’t know it by looking, but before they built the automobile plant in the next town over, this area was in rough shape. Now, it is quickly filling up with people who love big, old houses and want to save them. It is quite a nice area now.

She turned a sharp corner and a large house sat at the end of a short street.

There it is, Ms. Weller said sadly.

It was a grand old house. Beautiful windows, wonderful architectural details, large front porch. However, the entire place looked as if it had been abandoned for a very long time. It was in need of substantial repair.

Her heart ached for the amazing history this place once held. How sad it was to see a home that was once strong and protective now need protection itself. Her eyes filled with tears.

Can we get out?

Of course, Ms. Weller responded.

Once outside, Kathleen headed right up the front sidewalk.

The property still includes about five acres of land. Quite a lot for this area. As you can see, most of it is currently being farmed by a local farmer. The Society uses the land rent to pay the Town taxes.

Midway up the sidewalk, Kathleen stopped and stared at the porch. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost see Mr. Thomas working in his barn to the right of the house, hear Mrs. Thomas ringing the dinner bell or feel Rufus, the bloodhound, jumping on her legs.

Clearing her throat, she turned to Ms. Weller, Is there still a pond? she asked.

Yes, yes, there is. It is back behind the rows of corn.

Kathleen nodded her head and looked down. She was surprised how the strong pull of history was affecting her. She turned around to face Ms. Weller.

How much would it take to return this place to how it once was?

Uh, well, the estimate four years ago was over $80,000. With the passage of four years and the increase in prices, I would guess close to $100,000.

How did the Society come to own the home?

The Town donated it to the Society. The Town took possession of it years ago when the apartment owners didn’t pay their back taxes.

I see.

She headed back toward Ms. Weller’s car.

Thank you very much for showing it to me. I really appreciate it.

No problem, young lady. I wish it was safe enough for you to walk around inside. It still has all of its original wood. Most of the floors and doors are just magnificent.

Kathleen smiled at her as they both got in.

That’s okay, Ms. Weller. I imagine it is wonderful.

They both sat for a moment staring out the windshield at the magnificent old house. Suddenly, Kathleen had a thought.

Do any of the original town shops still exist?

You mean in the city proper as we call it?

Yes.

The original buildings are all still there, just about. The church burned down in the 1930s, but all the original brick buildings are still there. A couple of years back, the buildings were all professionally cleaned and painted on the outside. It really helped revitalize that area. It is now the chic place to have a business. she said excitedly.

Is the dress shop building still there?

Oh, yes. It is currently a children’s consignment shop.

How late do you think they are open?

At least until seven o’clock, I would think.

Can we go see?

Sure. Let’s go.

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Kathleen was unprepared for their next stop. It didn’t take much imagination to step back in time and see the shop as it once was. The building was magnificent.

Everything in the store front is original, except for the glass, Ms. Weller was saying as they approached the door. Even this door is original.

All it is missing is the ‘Be Back in One Hour’ sign, Kathleen whispered to herself.

A bell chimed as Ms. Weller opened the door.

Have a look around, came a voice from the back room. I’ll be right out.

Take your time, Suzie. It is just me, Gertie.

Kathleen had not moved from the doorway. She felt as if she were frozen in time.

This counter here is all original, Ms. Weller was saying. The beautiful oak floors are original as well.

She turned around.

Ms. Robertson, are you okay?

Kathleen continued to stare at the counter. She could just imagine bolts of fabric on top of it with Mabel and Miranda on stools behind it.

Ms. Robertson?

The consignment shop’s owner emerged from the back room just as Kathleen looked up.

The back room! she thought. That was the very room where Caroline and Rose talked so often. That was the room where Caroline and Lily had tried on their gowns for the ball. It was an indescribable feeling for Kathleen to see these things of the past.

Ms. Robertson?

Kathleen forced herself back to the present.

Yes, Ms. Weller. I’m fine. I am just amazed at how well preserved everything is.

Oh, we count it a privilege to be located in such a beautiful store. Not all of the shops were so lucky. A lot of the beautiful woodwork and things were torn out decades ago. This shop is a real gem, said the shop owner. Hi, I’m Suzie.

Kathleen shook the hand that Suzie offered.

Hello, I’m Kathleen Robertson. I’m visiting from out of town. You are indeed lucky. Your store is amazing.

Thank you.

Kathleen walked over and touched the worn surface of the oak countertop.

Amazing, she repeated.

She tore her eyes from the counter and began to look around the shop. To her amazement, there were about twenty framed drawings of formal gowns hung throughout the store. She walked up to examine one closer.

Are these original drawings? Kathleen asked.

Oh, goodness, no. Those are prints from dress designs by Miranda Miles. The original books with her designs are in New York City at a clothing museum. Ms. Miles used to own this very shop. In the early to mid 1880s, she was famous nationally for her dress designs, but she never left Maple City.

Kathleen continued to stare at the drawings.

So, Gertie, how is Fred? Suzie asked, turning from Kathleen.

Oh, you know Fred. He’s at a club meeting tonight. Truth be told…

Their conversation faded out as Kathleen went from drawing to drawing studying Miranda’s style and talent. She was almost to the last framed print when she caught her breath. There in front of her was a drawing of a beautiful, dark green dress with the initials C.P. handwritten underneath it. She stared at it for quite a while before she felt Ms. Weller touch her on the shoulder.

Suzie needs to close up now, she said softly. Are you done looking around?

Yes, yes, she said apologetically toward Suzie. I’m sorry we kept you waiting.

Normally, I’d be willing to stay past seven, but I really need to get home tonight. My son has a paper mache project due Friday and I need to help him with it.

No problem, really. I understand, said Kathleen. Ms. Weller, let’s let this poor woman get home.

She smiled at Suzie and they left the store.

Seconds after they climbed into Ms. Weller’s car, she turned to Kathleen, Are you hungry, Ms. Robertson?

Kathleen looked at this nice woman. She liked Ms. Weller. She especially liked what she was trying to do in this town. And, she was hungry.

I am.

Then allow me to take you to dinner, she said.

Oh no, Ms. Weller. I can’t let you do that. I tell you what. If you tell me the nicest place to spend the night here in Maple City, then I will take you to dinner. Any place you choose.

Are you sure?

Positive.

All right, you’re on. Let me think of the nicest place. Well, if money were no object, I would tell you the DiPalma Mansion, but it is very exp…

Did you say the DiPalma mansion? she interrupted.

Yes. Why? Have you… Oh, of course, it was built before 1878. You probably ran across something about it in your research.

Kathleen’s face lit up.

Yes, ma’am. Do you mind if we go there first? I’d like to see if there are any rooms available.

Absolutely.

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After a few minutes, Ms. Weller turned onto a road heading out of Town.

The mansion is a little ways out, but it is worth it.

So, it is a hotel now.

Yes. It is also a restaurant of sorts with a sunken dining room. Do you know what that is?

Let me guess. Is it where the dining room sits lower than the rest of the first floor? I bet it is in the very center of the house and is visible from the entranceway. From what I’ve read, there was also a balcony that went all around the second floor, which was also visible from the entranceway.

Yes. It is perfect for lavish parties or wedding receptions, that sort of thing. The second floor you speak of is where the rooms are. I hear they are very elegant.

Ms. Weller made a left turn and they began heading up a smaller road that ended at a large, brick and wrought-iron entrance. Up ahead, Kathleen got her first view of the house.

The driveway went downhill as it wound around the front lawn. Just before reaching the mansion, the driveway progressed uphill again. The grounds were breathtaking with perfectly manicured lawns and bushes. Kathleen wondered what it had looked like all those years ago. Caroline’s description had only been of the inside.

Ms. Weller pulled into a parking space and the two got out. Once inside, absentmindedly, Kathleen walked toward the stairs leading down into what had been the ballroom floor and was now a large dining room.

Wow. It is exactly as she described it, Kathleen said.

There were a few people eating at small, elegant tables. She stood at the edge of the top step and took it all in. In her wonder, she had failed to notice a reception desk in the foyer area.

Excuse me, miss, called a strong voice. Can I help you?

She turned to see a member of the mansion’s staff coming toward her.

Miss, only diners are allowed in the dining room. Can I help you with something?

Kathleen snapped out of her daze.

Oh, I apologize, she said as she headed back into the foyer area. The mansion is just so beautiful.

Yes, ma’am, he said kindly. There are tours of the mansion given twice a year. You should come back then. All of the information is online at dipalmamansion.com.

No, you misunderstand, she said. If there are any rooms available for tonight, I would like to reserve one.

Oh, I see. Let’s go over here and I will get you a pricelist of all of the rooms.

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After all the formalities were taken care of, the man gave her a room key.

Your room is Room 12. Take the staircase on the left to the second level. All of the doors are clearly marked. Check-out is 11 a.m. Before you leave, be sure you see the antique rose garden on the back lawn. It has been here since the 1860s.

He pointed to the back of the huge room.

There is a large porch directly outside that side door. It gives you the perfect view.

Thank you, she said, again overcome with memories of what she had read. Caroline had gone out that very door the night of the DiPalma ball to get some air. It was on that porch that Steven had confronted her.

Ms. Robertson, are you alright? Ms. Weller asked. I think you need some dinner.

She turned and smiled at her.

Yes, ma’am. Let’s go eat.

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It was almost nine o’clock by the time Ms. Weller dropped Kathleen off at her car.

It was wonderful to meet you, Kathleen, she said sweetly. If you are ever in Maple City again, be sure you stop by.

Oh, I will.

Now do you remember how I told you to get back to DiPalma Mansion?

Yes, ma’am. I remember.

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The room had the feel of an old Victorian room. It was a little too opulent for Kathleen’s taste, but the bed was comfortable and the shower was hot, so she was happy.

When morning came, Kathleen was up and packed by 7 a.m. She couldn’t sleep a minute more. She was dying to go out and see the rose garden.

She grabbed a croissant and orange juice at the front desk and headed to the side door.

Once outside, she sat her juice and croissant down on a small porch table and went to the railing. There were rose bushes everywhere she looked. The unique thing about the garden was that every rose was red. There wasn’t another color anywhere.

I bet it was like that then, too, she said.

She turned around, leaned on the railing and closed her eyes. She could almost hear their voices.

Caroline, I needed to talk with you one last time…to make sure…to…. I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you…

Caroline, look at me. Tell me you didn’t feel that in there. Tell me that you don’t feel it every time we are in a room together.

Steven, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Kathleen opened her eyes. The feelings of sadness she felt for Caroline were too strong. It was time to go.

She walked over, picked up her breakfast and headed inside to get her suitcase.

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The clock on her dashboard read 7:45, but Kathleen felt like she had left Maple City hours ago. She couldn’t get Caroline Porter out of her mind. She also had the strongest feeling that through all of it: the Brookhaven defaulted loan, the journal, Maple City, Caroline Porter, the Lord was trying to tell her something.

Lord, I don’t understand, she said out loud. Why are you showing me all of this?

She shook her head. She knew He would show her in due time. She was sure of it.

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She was happy to see Ben’s name on her cell phone when it rang a few hours later.

Hello, she said. According to my itinerary, I am about an hour and a half from Brookhaven.

Wow, I didn’t think you had left Maple City yet.

I was able to sightsee last night, so I didn’t need to this morning.

Anything interesting?

Yes, quite a bit. I visited three different places mentioned specifically in the journal.

They were still there?

Yep. It was pretty cool.

I bet, he said. Listen, there is a gas station right off the Brookhaven exit. I am going to meet you there in an hour and a half so that you can follow me to The Haven Bed and Breakfast.

Are you sure you can’t just give me directions? Don’t you have to be at work or something?

No, as a matter of fact, I have today off so it is no trouble at all.

Kathleen smiled.

Alright, if you are sure.

I’m sure. I will be in a red pickup truck.

Okay, see you there, she said.

Alright, bye.

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Before too long, she saw the first sign for Brookhaven. She was getting nervous by the time she saw the sign that read BROOKHAVEN, Exit 76, 3 miles.

True to his word, Ben was waiting for her when she pulled into the gas station. She was surprised to see a handsome African-American man get out of the truck when Ben did.

Well, I guess you made it, he said smiling as he approached her car. Looking at his friend, he said, Kathleen, this is Randy. Randy, this is Kathleen Robertson.

Randy reached out and shook her hand.

It is nice to meet you, Kathleen, he said kindly.

"It is nice to meet