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Guess Emma’s main character was a chef who was going to end up the prime suspect in a murder that happened in his kitchen. Grace was always willing to help her family out.
“How about coffee?”
“That I’ll take,” she said.
She followed Emma to her kitchen. Her cousin was a recluse barely leaving her home let alone the island.
“Pick a flavor,” Emma said, pulling out a drawer of pods for the one-cup coffee maker. “Or I’ve got others in here.”
A cabinet was opened and there had to be at least ten large boxes not even opened.
“What the hell, Emma? Do you plan on being locked in or something? Don’t tell me you actually drink that much coffee and that is only a few weeks supply?”
“No,” Emma said. “But you know I stock up. I only go to the store about once a month. Maybe twice. Creamer doesn’t always last that long.”
Her cousin opened her fridge and she saw the four containers of creamer in there and rolled her eyes.
She didn’t think she could live like this. Where you hardly saw anyone. She wondered how often Emma talked to people.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Emma asked, popping the pod that she’d picked out into the machine.
“Live like this? I know you don’t like to see people much, but do you ever talk to anyone?”
“I talk to my characters all day long. My brain gets confused and clogged. I don’t need to talk to actual people.”
“That’s scary.”
Emma laughed and handed her over the cup. “Not really. You know I’ve never been one to hang out in large groups. This works for me.”
“You’re not lonely?”
Emma shrugged. “Not really. You’re here and you brought me food. I talk to other family members all the time who let me interview them. My mother and father call me weekly each.”
“Probably to make sure you’re alive,” she said.
“No, I get daily texts for that. I just need to send something back even if it’s a meme or an emoji.”
“That’s funny.”
“Grandpa visits often in the summer, but at least he calls first,” Emma said.
“You could pick his brain for a lot of ideas,” she said.
“I do. From a business standpoint. I get more from Roark and my father.”
Roark was a defense attorney and Emma’s father was a federal judge. She supposed her cousin had an all-access pass to more facts than fiction at times.
It also told her her cousin did talk to people often.
“What do you need from me?” she asked.
Emma grabbed her coffee and then a plate and some breakfast and started to eat while she pulled her laptop over.
“I’ve got a list of questions,” Emma said. “I could have emailed these to you, but I asked you over instead. See, I talk to people in person.”
“You wanted food,” she said.
