She exchanged a look with her partner.
“Nobody is in trouble.”
I stared at her. “What?”
She repeated it. “Nobody is in trouble.”
I laughed once, sharp and breathless. “Then why are there police at my door before sunrise?”
She exchanged a look with her partner. “Because this got bigger than anyone expected.”
Lila frowned. “What got bigger?”
Lila just stared.
The male officer smiled. “You, apparently.”
The officer pulled out her phone. “The nursing home staff posted pictures yesterday. Residents’ families shared them. One man called his granddaughter crying because your pies reminded him of his wife. She works with a local community foundation.”
Lila blinked. “Because of pie?”
He chuckled. “Apparently because of 40 pies.”
The officer kept going. “The story spread overnight. The foundation wants to honor you at tonight’s town event. The mayor’s office is involved. A local bakery owner wants to offer you a scholarship for weekend classes if you’re interested.”
And that was it. I broke.
Lila just stared.
I said, “That’s why you’re here?”
The officer nodded. “Arthur insisted someone tell you in person before the story spreads more. He said, and I’m quoting, ‘That girl did not bring dessert. She brought people back to life for ten minutes.'”
And that was it. I broke.
Not quiet crying. Full shaking, ugly crying, one hand over my face because the terror had nowhere to go now.
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