“I don’t know, Shannon,” I said, though I suspected she was.
“I don’t think I want to be there when she arrives,” she whispered.
She crumpled the napkin in her hand and stood up.
She walked out of the kitchen before I could answer, the screen door clicking shut behind her.
At noon, the sun was high but pale, casting long shadows across the brick storefronts of Main Street. Jerome was waiting for me outside the bakery, his broad shoulders leaning against the brickwork, his hands tucked into the pockets of his canvas jacket. He was twenty-nine, and he worked long hours at the county road department, but he always made time for Adele’s errands.
“The cake deposit slip is ready,” Jerome said.
He placed a steadying hand on my shoulder as we walked inside the warm shop. The smell of fresh bread and vanilla frosting was thick in the air, a sweet, heavy scent that made my stomach turn. The girl behind the counter handed me a small yellow receipt, the ink faded but legible.
