She wipes her hands on the apron and walks toward me. "I'm Margaret. You don't need to stand there looking lost. Come, come Sit."
Her tone leaves no room for argument. She gestures to the table near the window. I hesitate for half a second, then do as I'm told.
"Did you sleep alright" she asks, already moving back toward the stove.
"As well as I could," I say honestly.
She hums, like that's the answer she expected. "First nights are always strange. Food helps." She talks with a slight accent like she's not really from here.
I watch her work, she moves with ease, grace and efficiency. She Knows where everything is without looking. Plates warming. Eggs sizzling quietly. Bread toasting.
"Zane will be down shortly," she adds. "He doesn't like to be late."
I nod. Of course he doesn't.
She sets a cup in front of me. A full cup of teas with Steam curling up.
"Drink ," she says. "You'll feel better."
