Like the night before last never happened.
“Sophie’s still asleep,” I said. My voice was a little better than yesterday. At least I could finish a sentence now.
“I’ll just peek at her.” She pushed Sophie’s door open, stood there for a moment, then closed it gently and turned back to me. “Kid sleeps sound. You’re the mother—you should learn to take it easy like she does.”
Derek sat up on the couch, hair a wreck. He blinked at June, voice still thick with sleep. “Mom. What are you doing here so early?”
“Bringing my granddaughter breakfast.” She set the bowl on the counter.
Derek went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, back turned to her. “Mom. What exactly did you give her the night before last?”
“Dried chili boiled in water.” June’s tone was calm. “It chases out the cold. Your grandmother used to make it for me the same way.”
