Warm tea steamed between them. Lauren fetched spare wool socks and a flannel shirt from her own drawer, draping an extra quilt over Mabel’s lap. The older woman’s hands wrapped around the mug, color returning to her fingers. Simple kindness felt good, steadying them both.
“Thank you, dear,” Mabel said, eyes brightening. “I hate causing trouble like this. Should’ve stayed put somewhere. But I was sure there was someone behind me.” She sipped slowly, relaxing into the chair as if it had been waiting for her. Lauren smiled, pulling up a stool. The storm outside seemed distant now, almost forgotten.