“It’s lovely to meet you,” I said, setting the still-warm package on the counter. “This looks amazing—thank you so much.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, dear. I always bring something sweet for new folks. Helps soften the shock of living here.”
She chuckled, like she hadn’t just walked into a stranger’s apartment uninvited.
I smiled and tucked my paint-specked hair behind my ear.
“It’s been a really kind welcome, actually. Everyone’s been friendly.”
“Well, that’s good. We’re protective of our own. Very tight-knit here in Farrow’s End.”
Something was in the way she said it—sweet, but laced with warning.
“And you’re the new teacher,” she added, nodding like she already knew the answer.
“Yes, first year teaching on my own. First time living away from home, actually.”
“Brave girl,” she said with an approving smile. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And sturdy hips. That helps.”
I blinked.
“Sorry—what?”
She waved a hand.
“Nothing, dear. Just saying, you look healthy. Like you eat real food and don’t live on kale.”
Then she glanced toward my kitchen.
“You don’t sit back and wait for others, do you?”
I let out a nervous laugh.
“Yeah… nothing would get done if I had that attitude.”
“Mm. Resourceful.”
She sipped from a mug she hadn’t brought with her.
Where the hell did that come from?
“So,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Are you seeing anyone?”
I blinked again.
“Um… no.”
She smiled wider.
“Good. I mean—such a shame, of course.”
“Mrs. Mercer—”
“Grammy.”
“Uh, Grammy. Can I cut you a slice of pie with your drink?”
This was weird, but it was still nice of her to come around.
