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My child inside.
“Hello, Laura,” she said.
My pulse jumped.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought lemon bars.”
Of course she did.
In my family, baked goods were often used as emotional crowbars.
I did not step aside.
She glanced past me.
“May I come in?”
“Is this an apology?”
Her face tightened.
“I would prefer not to do this on the porch.”
“That’s interesting.continue reading …
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