”
She rose slowly and crossed to the counter, where an old blue cookie tin sat beside the bread box. She placed the hidden sheet inside. Beneath it, I glimpsed several envelopes.
“What’s in there?” I asked.
“Recipes.”
“Since when do recipes need envelopes?”
“Some of them have traveled a long way.”
“You’re hiding something.”
She smiled faintly. “A woman is continue reading …
