“It’s twelve-thirty, my dear.”
Oh, s**t. I’d been moping around longer than I thought.
Miss Baxter took a tentative step forward and shifted her gaze to the edge of my bed. “May I?”
“Um, sure,” I said, patting the comforter and still eyeing the sack.
“Anise, I think I owe you an explanation for my behavior.” She sat down, placing the sack between us.
“Cannelloni is a pretty good way—” I watched the corners of her mouth twitching downward and stopped myself short.
“Anise, I would dearly love to turn this house into a positive place for girls your age to find their feet when they need a little help.” She said this while fixing her gaze on me.
Her eyes did not drill into me like other times, but instead wavered just a little. I felt myself relax, figuring I wasn’t going to get a lectur
