Theresa.
The heavy swinging doors of the kitchen opened smoothly, and Leonard stepped back into the sunlit dining room carrying a wide, steaming porcelain platter of freshly made buttermilk pancakes.
The soft, warm aroma of sweet syrup and melted butter swept across the table, breaking the quiet stillness that had settled over my chest. I quickly smoothed my hands down the front of my cream sweater, lifting my chin and pushing the quiet, heavy questions back into the dark corners of my heart. I forced a bright, radiant smile onto my lips before Leonard could notice the subtle shift in my posture.
"Everything is set, my love," Leonard said smoothly, setting the final tray in the center of the spread.
