WHEN the chime at the door sounded, Jane did not bother to lift her head.
She has been looking at the door every time it opened today. She was hoping to see the familiar build of the woman who she has been seeing for three weeks now.
She focused her full attention on sorting the bread she baked today. Half of what she baked earlier in the morning was gone and she has to make a fresh batch after lunch.
“Why the long face?”
Jane’s eyes widened in shock. The bread she was holding dropped on the floor.
The gray-eyed woman picked it up. She placed it on the shelf and helped her place the other pastries.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
A frown marred her face. She did not say a word.
“I had a meeting earlier. It ended later than I expected. I should have sent you a message.”
Often, Monette a
