Currant Creek Valley(23)

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.

Her second stop was more brief. Two streets over from Caroline’s house, she pulled up to a small clapboard house squeezed in between a couple rehabbed four-unit condominiums. Wally Hicks used to be her family’s mailman, and his wife, Donna, taught her and Claire’s Sunday-school class for years. Donna had early-stage Alzheimer’s and failing vision, while Wally could barely hear and had a bad heart. Between the two of them, they could almost manage to take care of each other and they were always so thrilled when she dropped off a few meals for them and a special treat for their bad-tempered bulldog, Clyde.

The third stop was the shortest of all—and she definitely left Leo in the car for this one.

Frances Redmond lived next door to Claire and Riley and she didn’t care for dogs. Or most people, for that matter.

Claire did what she could to help Frances but the older woman was grumpy about letting other people in. She always said she didn’t want Alex to keep coming, but she persevered, partly out of guilt for a few pranks she had pulled on the woman when she was a girl and partly because every time she came, Frances had a box full of empty containers to give back to her, indicating she ate the food, Alex hoped. For all she knew, Frances might have just dumped it all in her disposal and ran the dishes through her dishwasher, but she wanted to think she was doing a little good.

“If you’re going to bring all this food, even though I’ve told you again and again not to, why can’t you leave out all the fancy froufrou ingredients? What’s wrong with good, hearty basic food?”

Apparently rosemary was considered froufrou these days. Alex sighed. “Absolutely nothing, Mrs. Redmond. You’re right, I love things that are simple. I promise, I only mixed a few herbs in a couple of the dishes. Nothing exotic, I swear.”

“No sun-dried tomatoes like last time?”

“Nope. You told me you like plain old tomatoes and that’s what I used.”