Currant Creek Valley - By RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,23
skills in a kitchen, but it still made Caroline smile, just as Alex had hoped. That shadow of regret and sorrow was gone.
“Besides, you’re the closest thing to a grandmother I have, you know,” Alex said. “My dad’s parents both died before I was born, and my mom’s mother was a cranky old biddy who thought we McKnight kids were hooligans, every one.”
“Weren’t you?” Caroline asked with that mischievous smile again.
“True enough.”
Despite that, Caroline had always welcomed Alex and her siblings to her home. Her first memory of the woman had been probably around kindergarten age, when she had sneaked through Caroline’s garden gate to pick some flowers to give to her mother. If she remembered correctly, she was in trouble with Mary Ella for something or other—nothing new there—and thought the flowers might help smooth things over.
Like most kids, she’d had no concept of abstract things like ownership and had picked indiscriminately until Caroline had finally noticed her and come out to put a stop to her thievery.
Most of the details of that encounter were hazy but she could still remember Caroline’s kindness as the woman had taken the mangled flowers from Alex’s hand, patiently trimmed off the root ends she had tugged up and arranged them into a passably pretty bouquet.
Alex had loved her ever since, stubborn independence aside.
When Alex had returned to Hope’s Crossing bruised and broken and full of secrets, she hadn’t been able to face living at home among the questions. Instead, she had rented Caroline’s now-empty basement apartment at a rock-bottom price. Caroline hadn’t asked questions, she had only offered quiet acceptance, steady love and that riotously beautiful garden that had provided peace and comfort—along with fresh-cut flowers and a seemingly endless supply of fresh-baked banana nut bread.
Over the weeks and months that followed, Alex had found the time and space to begin gathering up the shattered pieces of herself and forming them back together—and she could never repay Caroline enough for giving her that place to heal. What were a few paltry meals compared to that?
“You don’t have to do for me,” Caroline repeated. “I can...take care of myself. Things take longer...but I still get them done.”
“I know you can. Look at it this way. If you don’t have to worry about what you’re going to fix for dinner every night, you have more time to read.”
“There is...that.”
Caroline was a member of the Books and Bites book club, though she hadn’t been to one of their get-togethers for a long time. She still read all the assigned books and sent a carefully typed email with her insightful analysis to either Maura or Mary Ella.
“Have you had lunch yet? I brought some fresh grapes and melon, some vegetable root chips and the makings for chicken salad sandwiches.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious. Is it nice enough...to eat on the patio, do you think?”
The unseasonable warmth of the day before had been blown away with a morning rain but it was still relatively pleasant. “Yes,” she answered. “Let’s find you a sweater.”
She helped Caroline into a cardigan as well as a blanket for good measure and tucked her in at the bistro set that overlooked her pond and the waterfall that was silent now.
“I’ll stay while you eat, then I’m afraid I have to run. I’ve got a couple other stops to make before I head into the restaurant for the dinner shift.”
She wasn’t hungry after a morning full of noshing while she tried things out, but she managed to eat half a sandwich and a couple of the chips, especially the purple potatoes, always a favorite. To her immense satisfaction, Caroline polished off her plate, leaving only a few edges of the ciabatta bread.
“That was...delicious,” Caroline said forty minutes later after their visit. “Oh, I wish you could stay longer.”
Alex smiled and kissed her friend’s cheek. “I’ll be back. You know I will.”
“You’re so...good to me,” Caroline said with a soft smile. “I don’t know...what I would eat if not for your delicious meals.”
Neither did Alex. Worry pressed down on her shoulders as she said her final goodbye, gathered Leo from a patch of sunshine in the yard and headed back to her SUV. Once the restaurant opened, she didn’t know how much time—or energy—she would have for these impromptu cooking sessions to fill the freezers of several of the older people she loved.
She would just have to make time, no matter how hard. People counted on her and she couldn’t let them down.