Adrian POVI'd been sitting in my car outside Evelyn's house for forty minutes before Belle Nelson opened the front door in pyjama bottoms and a silk bonnet and looked at me the way a bouncer looks at someone who's shown up to the wrong club."Give me one reason why I should let you in," she said."I hate to see Evelyn in pain, and I brought bread""One actual reason, Adrian."I held up the bag from Carmichael's. Sourdough, still warm, wrapped in paper. Behind it, two bags of groceries. Onions, garlic, fresh thyme, celery, carrots, chicken stock. Everything I needed to make my grandmother's soup, which was the only recipe I'd ever learned, taught to me by a woman who believed that feeding people was the most honest form of apology.Belle looked at the groceries. Then at me. Then at the groceries again."She's asleep," Belle said. "She's been up since four-thirty, and she's been crying for most of it, and I just got her to close her eyes ten minutes ago. If you wake her up, I will end
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