Anna knocked lightly before pushing Olivia’s door open.
“Hi, Helen,” she greeted, moving toward the kitchen.
“You’re late for your usual check-in,” Helen said, not looking up from her crossword.
“Work,” Anna replied quickly, setting the casserole dish on the island.
Work and a six-foot problem in a perfectly tailored shirt.
“I brought soup,” she announced with a bright smile, walking over to where Helen sat.
“Darlin’, you didn't have to. Olivia has the fridge stocked like war is about to break out,” Helen said with a snort.
Anna laughed, sinking into the armchair facing her. “She's just looking out for you, Helen.”
Helen waved it off. “She worries too much. She put you up to this, didn't she?”
“Not really. I still would've stopped by even if she didn't ask.”
Helen hummed.
