“Ugh, trust me. She was. She was my teacher.”
“Ouch.”
“Wanna hit the bar this weekend?”
“I wish I could, but I’ve got so much to do at the apartment.”
“Alright, when you’re free, we definitely need a night out.”
“Thanks, Cathryn. You’ve really helped me get into the groove of things here.”
“No problem. If you’ve got any questions about the school—or town—I’m your girl.”
I hesitated. I almost asked about the cop.
But the words stuck.
I was too embarrassed. If anyone found out about that traffic stop, my job could be at risk. That was the downside of small towns. Reputation was everything.
My smile slipped as she walked away.
My consequences were mine to carry.
?? ?? ??
I was elbow-deep in kitchen paint when the buzzer chimed.
I dropped the roller and gave my hands a quick wipe.
“Hello?”
“Hello, dear. Just here to welcome you to our town.”
Wow. My first home visitor.
“Yes, please, come up,” I said, buzzing her in.
I opened the door, and it didn’t take long for an older lady to walk up the stairs. She had something in her hands — wrapped in foil and good intentions.
“Hello, I’m Juliette,” I said with a warm smile.
Her faded blue eyes sparkled as she looked me over with obvious approval.
“Oh, you’ll do just fine, dearie. Doing a bit of painting?” she asked, nodding toward my hands as she passed me the package… and walked straight into my apartment.
I stood there blinking, then lifted the corner of the foil.
Sweet, baked goodness hit me in the face like a warm hug.
If this tasted as good as it smelled, she could move in.
I closed the door slowly, the scent of sugar and cinnamon still curling around me like a spell.
She settled onto the couch like she owned the place.
“I’m Grammy Mercer,” she said, patting the seat beside her. “But you can call me Grammy.”
Okay. No forename necessary.
