The voice of a young child came from inside, followed by laughter.
“Don’t you dare open that door, Myla,” Mrs. Bryant instructed in her firm but compassionate tone. “We’ve been through this twice today.”
Seconds later, the door opened, and Mrs. Bryant appeared. “Paige, what a surprise. I was expecting your mom.”
“I hope you’re not disappointed.” She winked, followed it with a grin. “Mom went somewhere with dad and sent me in her place.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see my favorite former Sunday school student.” Mrs. Bryant pulled her into an embrace. “I’ll help you unload the pies in a second. I’m babysitting for a family friend, and the little girl is sweet as molasses but just as precocious. Let me find something to keep her occupied for a few minutes, so she doesn’t run out while we bring them in.”
Paige laughed. She didn’t have any children of her own but was around them enough to know how they could be. “Don’t worry about it. I can get them all, but wanted to make sure you were ready for them.”
“You’re such a dear.” The elderly woman darted a glance inside her house. “I’ll take you up on that. I hear her in my sewing cabinets again, and there are pins and needles in there that could hurt her.”
“No problem.” Paige returned to her car and loaded all the pies she could safely carry in one trip. She successfully got them all into Mrs. Bryant’s kitchen in only five trips.
“Can you stay for a few minutes? Enjoy a slice of cake and a cup of coffee?” Mrs. Bryant began pouring coffee before Paige could answer.
“I’d hoped you would ask.” She observed the stacks of baked goods filling the kitchen and dining room. “What can I do to help?”
Mrs. Bryant handed her a ceramic mug with violets painted on the side. “Nothing, but sit and relax. We’ll go into the living room where there’s more space, and I’ll put a movie on for Myla.”
Paige cast a doubtful eye at the chaos but didn’t press. Mrs. Bryant wasn’t shy about asking for help when she needed it, so she must have it under control. “Who’s Myla?”
“My daughter grew up with her grandmother who I consider a second daughter.” Mrs. Bryant patted a hand over her heart. “Goodness, that makes me feel old. Anyway, Myla’s mom is going through a few things, and her uncle has custody of her. He had to work tonight, so I offered to watch her.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
A broad grin spread across Mrs. Bryant’s mouth. “I have ulterior motives—having a young one around keeps me moving and feeling young.”
“I don’t think you know the meaning of being still,” Paige teased. “Even when you taught the junior high kids at church, you moved around the classroom constantly.”
“You know what the Bible says about idle hands.” Mrs. Bryant lifted the lid off a cake pan. “Do you still like spice cake? This one stuck to the pan so I couldn’t use it for tomorrow’s sale, but it’s still plenty good to eat.”
“One of my favorites.” She leaned over the counter to see the sweet treat. “Especially when it has cream cheese icing.”
“I’ll cut you a large slice off the corner.”
“Thank you.” That Mrs. Bryant remembered small details about her, like how she enjoyed corner pieces, always made her feel special. She had the special knack for putting everyone in her presence at ease.
“Myla, darling, would you like a piece of cake?” Mrs. Bryant propped her elbows on the counter with a conspiring gleam in her eyes. “Don’t tell her uncle I gave her dessert before dinner.”
Paige pressed her index finger to her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
A little girl ran into the room. “Yes!”
It couldn’t be.Paige observed her closely. But it was. Myla was the girl with Wes Caldwell at the farm.
Once they took their refreshments into the living room and Myla had her eyes glued to a princess movie, Paige dared ask the question burning on her mind. “Myla’s uncle that has custody—by any chance is his name Wes Caldwell?”
“Yes, it is.” Mrs. Bryant’s eyes lit up. “Do you know him? He’s such a nice young man.”
The snort barreled out before she could stop it. “I’ve run into him before.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t care for him?”
Everything spilled out, from the initial meeting to his awkward apology. “I admit, I could have been friendlier and more receptive to his apology, but I truly was busy and that morning had been a headache.”
Mrs. Bryant clucked her tongue. “That just doesn’t sound like the Wes I know. His manners are impeccable.”
