voice strangled. Not Ms. Birdie. No. She gestured to the door, and Brenda Anne nodded. In light of the news, they seemed to agree their conversation could wait. Not knowing what else to do, Clementine drove the streets of Whisper Wall with shaky hands, missing her friend, the sweetest, kindest soul. “Oh, Ms. Birdie,” she whispered, still in disbelief. Because she needed to, she found herself driving past Birdie’s home. She paused when she saw a man with short dark hair and bright eyes similar to Birdie’s exit the house. Something came over her, and she stopped. Seeing her pull over, the man paused his progress and waited.
“Hi,” she said, knowing she must look a wreck. She touched her hair absently. “I’m Clementine, a friend of Birdie’s. Are you a member of her family?”
“Her son, Kenton. The youngest of two,” he said with a sad nod. “I live in Seattle but have been down quite a bit since she went sick. Do you run the, uh, biscuit place?” She nodded. “I thought your name sounded familiar. Mom told me about you. You visited her in the hospital and made her whole week.”
She smiled at the memory, and that made the lump in her throat grow. “I’m just so surprised. I drove her home from town just yesterday afternoon. She was excited to plant her new sunflower seeds.”
“Thank you for doing that.” He glanced behind him at the house. “Wait here a second.” He hurried inside, and when he returned, he held the packages of seeds. “On the kitchen table. Something tells me she would want you to have these.”
She accepted the packets and held on to them like a lifeline. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“I am.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “I’m so sorry you lost your mom. She was always a source of joy in my life, even when it felt bleak.”
He grinned through his own grief. “Sounds like her. Thank you for telling me.” She nodded and let him get on with his day. With a last look back at Birdie’s house, she drove herself home, clutching tightly to those seeds.
Chapter Twenty-one
Madison waited in line at the Biscuit, her work notebook in her arms, and her laptop tucked away in her messenger bag. After word traveled about the loss of Birdie Jenkins, she made the decision to work at one of the booths at the Biscuit. Most of her workload that morning was administrative in nature anyway, and she had a feeling Clementine could use a friend in her corner today. She thought the world of Birdie and had often said so.
When she reached the front of the line, she met Clementine’s admonishing gaze.
“What have I told you about waiting in line?”
“That I own the place and don’t have to. Hi.”
“Hi.” Clementine quirked her head. “So why did you do it anyway?”
“Feels wrong to cut, so I wait, like a good customer.”
“What’ll it be?” Clementine smiled but it was brief. A show. There was a heaviness about her today, which made perfect sense. She was sad, and all Madison wanted to do was gather her into her arms and help her through it. In the absence of that kind of permission, she’d send support from a nearby booth.
“Can I have two butter biscuits and a vanilla latte?”
“You certainly can.” Clementine produced her double biscuit order piping hot, and after Kevin delivered her coffee, she found a spot. Before getting to work, she surveyed the dining area. The Biddies’ table sat empty, a sad testament to the town’s loss. What was even more touching was that throughout the morning, not one person sought to occupy it—the table itself carried reverence, a reminder of a woman lost to them.
Ninety minutes later, as Madison tried to keep from drowning in unreturned emails, she looked up to see Clementine standing next to her booth. They’d hit the famous lull in the latter portion of the morning. “Want to sit?” Madison asked, clearing off the far side of her table.
“Why are you still here?” Clementine asked. She looked so tired, as if she hadn’t slept. “Not like you to linger on a workday.”
“I decided to turn this very booth into my office, and honestly, it’s worked out nicely. I’m getting all my loose ends tied up after spending too much time in the sun.” She smiled. “Hard to stay indoors on a vineyard in spring.”
Clementine shifted her weight and dialed her facial expression to doubtful.
“Okay.” Madison sighed. “The truth is that I was worried about