I don’t pull into the narrow road which leads to the pack farmhouse until nearly eight-thirty, which is later, much later than I thought my errand would take me to run.
But I wasn’t expecting Fisher’s dad, Mart, who has another strange name I’ve never heard before, to come back not only with a large box full of pastries but also three coffees and muffins.
He assumed I hadn’t had breakfast yet for me to be up and about so early, and asked if I wanted to stop in at the shop for a few minutes so we could eat it together.
I had to pretend I’d dropped something to hide my eyes filling with tears because no one’s ever thought to include me like that before, not ever.
And even though I knew I should head back, I didn’t hesitate about saying yes.
Since Fisher had left the chilled and frozen f
