53

“I guess I be needin’ some glasses right away,” Agatha says, looking up at me from her place at the table. “Who’s this one from?”

I open the envelope for her. “S-s-s-senior Citizen Center. They want you to b-b-buy a cookbook.”

“Don’t they know I hate cookin’?”

I smile and let her fix me a cup of sassafras. I’m starting to like the way it fills me.