“This is a wonderful meal, Mistress Baxter. All of the food groups are properly represented here.” Moona surveyed the various dishes as I pulled them from the oven one by one. “Surely, you do not require my services as cook.”
“All of this is from the freezer, dear. I’m strictly a heat and serve kind of gal.” I handed her an apron and some oven mitts. “Grab a dish, Moona, and let’s go meet the girls.”
After a short bustle, all of us were seated around the long dining room table with me at the head and Moona positioned to my right. “Girls, this is Moona,” I said. “She’ll be staying here for a while. She’s new in town and may need someone to help show her around. Would anyone like to volunteer?”
Jessica, my graduate sociology student spoke up right away. I’m not surprised. She’s outgoing a
