Kathryn
45
Kathryn missed being able to go out to the garden and pick whatever food she wanted. She asked Mrs. McDoogle if there was a farmers’ market in town anywhere.
“Not this late in the year,” Mrs. McDoogle said.
“There’s a year-round one near where I live. I have my own farm back home, and whenever I get bored from my own selection, I go to the market and bring home something tasty,” Kathryn said.
“A farm! Well that’s something.” Mrs. McDoogle nodded approvingly, or so Kathryn thought.
They were sitting in Mrs. McDoogle’s kitchen, leaning over a small table together, gossiping in the old way, a cup of tea in hand.
“Where do you get your produce, Mrs. McDoogle? For the guests, I mean. You always have the yummiest dishes. They must be local. Shipped in food just doesn’t taste li
