She stood looking into the oven for a long time.
Then she closed it and turned around.
“Thank you, Carly,” she said.
That was all. But she said it in a way that made me stand up a little straighter the whole drive home.
For the first year, we barely talked.
I came every Thursday at nine. She was usually gone. There was always a note on the counter, on
the same thick cream paper, in the same perfect cursive. And there was always a check, made out to Carly Brennan for one hundred dollars. Never late. Never a penny short.
The notes were short and practical.
Carly — The window in the back bedroom sticks. Please don’t force it. — M.W.
Carly — Susan is visiting next week. Could you please make up the blue room? Extra blankets in the hall closet. — M.W.
Carly — There’s soup in the refrigerator if you’d like some. — M.W.
