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As the sun set, she walked across the sand to her neighbor’s door. With hands full, she used the toe of her shoe to knock. She waited and waited before she kicked at the door again. Preparing to turn back toward home, she pivoted and started for the steps as the door opened and a man stepped out.
“Can I help you?”
He looked rumpled and worn, but past the five o’clock shadow and his loosened tie, she could see that he had kind eyes, although red-rimmed and sad. His dark hair hung in clumps as if he’d been trying to pull it out at the ends.
“I’m Charlotte, your neighbor, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” She glanced down at the pot in her hands. “I’m sure food is the last thing on your mind, but it’s important to eat and nourish your body.”
“You brought us food?” He stared at her.
“It’s what we do here in Willow Bay.” She lifted the pot and nodded to the oven mitts. “Despite what they tell you, they don’t keep all the heat away. Before I blister, can I put this down somewhere?”
“Pardon my manners.” He opened the door and nodded inside. “Kitchen is straight ahead.”
Charlotte knew the layout because she’d been in the house a thousand times. It had changed owners over the years, but it had never changed. It was the same as it was the day it was built. Families had come and gone, but the bones of the home were the same.
She moved past the living room where an empty hospital bed sat dead center in the big bay window. On the couch sat a young woman who looked straight out of high school. Next to her was a little girl with long, brown hair.
“Hello Ivy, I’m Charlotte. Are you hungry? I brought over dinner.”
Ivy lifted her head. “My tummy hurts.”
“I imagine it does.” Charlotte moved into the kitchen and set the pot on the stove. “Do you like chicken and dumplings?”
“I like everything,” Ivy said. “My mom told me picky eaters don’t get invited to many places, and I want to get invited everywhere and to everything.”
“Your mom is smart.” While she knew she was no longer with them, it didn’t seem wise or necessary to talk about her mother in the past tense. Besides, Charlotte didn’t believe that people actually left you. All science pointed to the fact that we are energy and energy never dies. “Would you like to set the table?” She looked at the man who leaned against the doorjamb. “Can I serve you?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Just so we’re clear here, I’m not looking for a wife.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “All I’m offering is a meal. I think we’re pretty clear. If you’re looking for a wife or dessert, you’re on your own.”
Ivy picked up a bag of cookies—the same cookies Marybeth took from the box this morning. “We have these.”
“You’re very resourceful. How old are you?” She held up her hand with all her fingers splayed. “Wow, five?” Charlotte looked at the man. “Should I serve or go?”
The man pushed off the doorjamb. “I’m sorry. I’m Bastien, and this is my niece, Ivy, but you seem to already know her name. In the living room is Rachel. Ivy’s helper.”
Charlotte was relieved that he had help because he seemed overwhelmed. “It’s good to have help. While I wish we had met under different circumstances, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Bastien.” Rather than wait for permission to serve, she opened the cupboards until she found bowls and set them on the counter. “How about one of you gets the silverware and the other the napkins?” She stepped back until she could see through the door to where Rachel sat on the couch. “Rachel, can you help us in here? I’m not sure what your dinner routine is, but if you can get drinks, that would be wonderful.” She made a mental note to tell Marybeth that this family was going to need a lot of hospitality in the coming weeks.
They all did her bidding while she scooped up steaming bowls of chicken, gravy, vegetables, and dumplings.
Once they were seated around the table, she smiled. Her work here was done. “I’m next door if you need anything. I mean anything.” She looked down at the meal and hoped they’d enjoy it. “While I’m not known for my cooking, I’m fairly certain none of you are headed for a case of salmonella poisoning or botulism, but if, for some reason, you feel unwell, Dr. Robinson is right next door.”
“Should we be worried?” Bastien asked.
She thought about it for a second. She’d taken the meat out a day ago, or was it two days? She couldn’t recall, but either way, it should be fine. “Nope. You’re all good.”
“Would you like to dine with us?” he asked.
Her stomach grumbled loudly, but she shook her head. “No. You should take time for your family.” She backed out of the kitchen. “You know where to find me.”
“Mommy would want you to stay,” Ivy said. “She loved company.”
Charlotte wanted to melt into the hardwood floor. She had lived next door and never once brought the woman a pie or a cookie or a glass of iced tea. How could she leave now?
“Thank you, I’ll stay if you’d like.” She walked to the cabinet, pulled another bowl down, filled it up, and took a seat across from Ivy. They ate in silence, and all Charlotte could think about was, what would happen to this little girl?
CHAPTERFOUR
