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“But you’ve always lived in the city.”
“And now I live in the country. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, as if forcibly preventing herself from asking anything else, then finally nodded once. She turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a heaping bowl of homemade mashed potatoes and then another of coleslaw.
“That looks delicious,” Leah said.
“Thank you. It’s nice to cook for someone besides Tom and myself.”
“You mean Conner isn’t over here all the time making you feed him and do his laundry?”
Charlotte laughed. “No, not usually. Even he seems to manage feeding and clothing himself.”
They carried the bowls along with a basket of bread to the dining room table.
“So how is your new place really? I hear it’s an old bunkhouse. That doesn’t sound very homey.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll spruce it up over time.”
“You know we have perfectly good empty bedrooms here.”
Her aunt meant well, but the last thing Leah wanted was a concerned family member watching her every move, reminding her through sympathetic looks that she’d been a victim of a crime, one that had shaken her to her core and filled her with a fear she’d never known before.
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