The following morning, Joan arrived promptly at Johnny’s house. Grace had prepared a small breakfast for her, and Johnny was still upstairs getting ready for work. The house felt unusually lively with Joan’s presence, though Grace couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.“Good morning, Joan,” Grace said cautiously as she set a plate of eggs and toast on the small dining table.“Good morning, Miss Grace,” Joan replied, her voice polite but tinged with curiosity. She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the neatly stacked baby clothes and the small crib visible through the open doorway.Grace hesitated. “I’m glad you’re here to help, but… you know, don’t just stand there. We’ve got chores to do.”Joan nodded, immediately rolling up her sleeves. “Yes, ma’am.”Grace watched as Joan moved around the kitchen, carefully folding small towels and arranging bottles. There was something precise about her movements, almost methodical. Grace’s mind wandered. Was Joan just a helpful teenager,
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