"Miss She? Is that really you?"
She turned, catching Henry''s gaze.
For a moment, Henry forgot all about looking for his mother. Beaming, he scurried over to She''s side.
She''s brows knit together, her voice soft and apologetic. "Henry,st night over dinner, you mentioned not liking the school lunches. I wanted to make you something myself to take today, but... I think I messed up."
No sooner had she finished speaking than the acrid smell of burning filled the air then mes leapt up from the pan on the stove.
With a frightened gasp, She dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball.
Henry, rmed, wrapped his arms around her and shouted, "Dad! There''s a fire in the kitchen! Dad!"
As he tried to soothe her, he gently patted She''s back. "Miss She, it''s okay. Don''t be scared."
Timothy hurried in, drawn by themotion. Without missing a beat, he turned off the gas and mped the lid onto the ming pan. The fire sputtered out almost immediately.
But She was still trembling, unable to move.
Concern shadowed Timothy''s usuallyposed features.
He knelt down beside her and called, more gently this time, "She."
She slowly lifted her head, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"Timothy, am I really so useless?"
A memory shed across Timothy''s mind-a fire, seven years ago.
Ever since, She had been terrified of mes.
"It''s not your fault. You shouldn''te into the kitchen anymore."
His gaze darkened as he looked at Henry. "Miss She went through a fire once. She''s afraid of it. You''re not to ask her to cook for you, understand?"
She shook her head, her voice urgent. "Timothy, it''s not Henry''s fault. He never asked me to do it."
Henry looked up at She, his heart aching. "Miss She, you''re so afraid of fire, but you still did this for me?"
"I... I just didn''t want you eating poorly at school."
Henry''s eyes filled with tears as he hugged her tightly, his voice trembling. "Miss She, you''re too good to me. Please don''t ever go into the kitchen again, okay?"
Timothy helped She to her feet, but her legs buckled. Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms.
"Henry, grab your backpack. We''re eating out this morning."
Out in the yard, Mabel was sweeping up leaves. When she saw Timothy carrying She outside, her expression soured instantly.
Just yesterday, She had insisted she was simply Timothy''s sister-inw. Now, she didn''t seem the least bit concerned about appearances.
What would people think?
If Mrs. Carter found out, it would break her heart.
"Mabel,e open the car door," Timothy called.
Mabel shuffled over reluctantly, opening the door with a sigh.
Timothy nced at her coolly. "Mrs. Carter isn''t home. Why didn''t you make breakfast this morning?"
Mabel was about to exin, but She spoke up first. "Timothy, you don''t like leaves scattered everywhere. I asked Mabel to sweep up outside."
Timothy''s gaze lingered on She for a moment, deep and unreadable.
He did hate seeing the yard covered in leaves—it always reminded him of the autumn his mother left.
Once Henry was in the car, Timothy drove off.
Mabel watched the car disappear down the driveway, sighing in frustration. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Jessica.
When are youing back, ma''am?
Jessica had woken early and gone straight to the kitchen to make breakfast. As she was sautéing vegetables, she nced at her phone and saw Mabel''s message. It hit her all at once-she wasn''t at The Gilded Whisper Estates.
She didn''t need to cook breakfast, or pack lunch for Henry.
Habits formed over years were hard to break.
She quickly turned off the stove and dumped the half-cooked vegetables into the trash.
She''d never been much of a cook, really.
After her grandmother died when she was twelve, Jessica had scraped by on her own, relying on the paper-cutting skills her grandmother had taught her to earn a little money. She ate simply-whatever would fill her up.
Later, when she went away to college, she ate most of her meals in the campus cafeteria.