November came to Hollow Creek the way it always did -- sideways and without apology.
The farmers market moved indoors. The Route 9 corridor grew quiet as the cold settled over the ridge. The Saints' Sunday rides got shorter — not because of the cold, Rafe explained, but because the roads got unpredictable after October and unpredictable roads cost you people, and he had lost enough people.
She heard the weight in that. She didn't ask him to explain it further.
Instead she started bringing food to the garage on Saturdays. Not catering — just cooking. Soup, mostly, and bread, and once a apple cake that Hatch declared the best thing he'd eaten since his grandmother passed. She told herself it was practical. She had a commercial kitchen and surplus ingredients and these were people who work
