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“Mmm,” she said, while sipping the sweet coffee. “No, thank you. Well, except…” She got a little nervous. She had to ask for directions. That was the smart thing to do, of course.
Her only information to get to her grandma was a name and a town. The letter she had found was brief. Ten or twelve sentences were full of kindness to Dakota’s mother, however.
The lady offered her shelter and money and asked about the baby. Dakota imagined her mother hadn’t answered the lady, because she would have remembered getting to know her.
Her mum took her secrets to the grave.
“Spill it, honey. I can see you are a bit of a worrier.”
She looked at Marge with surprise, but the woman had a kind smile on her face and didn’t say it meanly. She surely was used to people talking to her.
“I’m not from here,” Dakota said.
“I can tell. This is a small place.”
“I was wondering if you could help me find someone.”
“I know a bunch of people. That’s the thing with small towns. We know each other well. Who are you looking for?”
“Mmmm, her name is Peggy. Peggy Sue…
“Peggy Sue Simpson?” Marge frowned.
“Yes! Do you know her?”
“Who doesn’t? The woman is a damn institution here in New Essex.” Marge smiled.
“Is she?”
Okay, that was good to know. It was a relief. She had thought finding her grandma would be much more trouble.
“She is, and she lives on a farm close to town. Hers is a beautiful place. She grows vegetables, makes goat cheese, and more. A hard-working lady.”
“Is she old?” she asked, truly curious now. It was obvious Marge admired her grandma, and although she didn’t know her yet, that made Dakota feel good. Like proud, or something.
“Mmm, that’s hard to say. Seventy, seventy-five, perhaps. But tell me…
“Dakota,” she added. “Dakota Simpson.”
The lady’s eyes widen, and Dakota shrugged.
“I know, weird. Pretty sure she’s my grandma. Funny story, really. I found a letter in my mother’s attic…”
“You’re Peggy Sue’s granddaughter? Oh, my… This is… This is…”
Marge seemed a little overwhelmed, both hands on her hips, her eyes like x-rays on Dakota. Then she smiled and nodded.
“You have Peggy Sue’s eyes, you know? Those beautiful green eyes. And your hair… I loved your mum’s strawberry blond tone.”
“You knew my mum,” she said in awe.
“I did, honey. Fiona. Is she…?”
“She died two years ago. Heart attack,” she answered, and bit her lower lip to avoid mopping, but the woman rushed to hug her.
Dakota widened her eyes in surprise, but she allowed the embrace, and she finished hugging Marge back. She felt good, the kind woman pampering her. She hadn’t known how starved for human touch she was.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. Peggy Sue will be so sad. But she will be happy too. She always wanted to reach out to you.”
