Page 37 of Hidden Depths

"Coffee."

She nodded toward the pot.

"Help yourself."

I poured a cup.

"You make everything from scratch?"

"Pretty much."

"Even the bread?"

She smiled.

"Grandpa always said people remember how you make them feel."

I leaned against the counter.

"He sounds like a wise man."

"He was."

She dusted flour from her hands.

"He also believed homemade bread fixed almost every problem."

"Did it?"

"Sometimes."

She smiled softly.

"The ones it couldn't fix..."

Her voice drifted away for a moment.

"...he'd sit beside you until they hurt a little less."

I looked down into my coffee.

"I would've liked him."

Willow smiled.

"He would've liked you too."

That evening...

The sunset turned the Pacific into molten gold.

Storm stood alone on the bridge.

Again.

She never seemed to stop working.

I climbed the stairs quietly.