I wasn’t usually a tea drinker, but the idea of having something to hang on to during this conversation was appealing, nonetheless.
“I’d love a cup, if you don’t mind,” I said.
“Just a minute, then,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen. I sat on the edge of the stiff seat, hands gripping my knees. I was nervous as hell, which made no sense because I’d been planning this for a while. But something about sitting here, ready to have the conversation, made it all very, very real. The sharp whistle of the teapot nearly sent me into the stratosphere, and I gripped my knees harder.
It was less than ninety seconds later that Kari pressed a cup of something that smelled like yard clippings into my hands. She walked back out and then, a moment later, brought a tray with milk and sugar cubes
