Page 50 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

“Maci!” she laughed. “Good morning.”

I stepped out onto my porch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Oh, not at all.” She lifted the basket slightly. “I was just borrowing a few lemons.”

Borrowing. That was one way to describe it.

“For some reason, this tree always grows the best ones in the neighborhood.”

Always. I smiled politely and walked down the front steps.

“They do look good.”

“They’re perfect for my lemon bars.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” I said. “I’d just appreciate it if you asked first.”

For the first time since I met her, Camille’s smile faded for a moment before coming back.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She laughed softly. “I’ve been picking lemons from this tree for years.”

“I’m sure you have.” I stopped a few feet away. “But it’s my tree now.”

She went quiet and looked at me, maybe trying to figure out if I was joking. I wasn’t, so I just kept smiling.

“So next time,” I said gently, “Just knock first.”

She smiled again.

“Of course.”

Her voice stayed sweet, maybe even a bit too sweet.

“I didn’t think it would be an issue. I do this all the time.”

“It isn’t, and I understand you might have had an arrangement with the previous owners.”

I shrugged.

“I believe in asking. It would be like me walking over and picking things from your yard.”

She paused, then nodded.

“Fair enough.”

She lowered the basket to her side.

“I’ll remember that.”

I looked over at Danielle’s house. Yellow crime scene tape still stretched across the yard, and a sheriff’s cruiser sat by the curb.

“It’s awful what happened.”

“It really is.”

Her words sounded normal, but something about them felt practiced. She didn’t even look at Danielle’s front door.