I enjoyed sitting in Mrs. K’s kitchen, watching her work. She was my best friend Tracy’s mom and so cool. She always made me laugh, not like Mom who kept pestering me about school and homework all the time and was constantly checking if I was breaking a rule. Mrs. K was fun, and she was pretty. Like, really pretty. She had her blond, chin length hair combed back in that wicked style. It looked a bit messy at the first glance, but when you looked closer, it was neatly arranged in overlaying strands. She had gray streaks and sometimes complained about them because she’s only thirty-two, but I always told her they look good on her and went perfectly with her beautiful eyes. She sometimes got a strange expression when I said it and looked strangely at me, and my tummy got all fuzzy.

I always tried to get here a bit early when Tracy’ was at her training, but I totally bummed it up that day because I took a nap after lunch and thought it was half past three already. It was half past two. I arrived more than an hour early, and she looked quite surprised. I blushed madly when I realized how early it was, but she said it didn’t make sense to ride back home and then over again, so I sat in my customary chair and watched her like always.

“Did Tracy tell you about next week, Jessie?” she asked. I could only see her back since she was at the counter and peeling apples for a pie.

“No. What’s next week?”

She stopped peeling, sighed and turned around. “I swear, that girl will be the death of me. She was supposed to tell you that she will be away for three weeks. She will be visiting her grandparents for two weeks, then stay another week with her aunt Sarah.”

“Oh,” I said. It took me a moment for the implication to set in. It wasn’t like I couldn’t live a few weeks without Tracy around. We could call and text each other. We did that all the time anyway since we got our shiny smartphones for our fourteenth birthdays. But it also meant three weeks without Mrs. K, I realized, and my throat grew tight and my eyes suddenly stung.

I think she saw my desperate expression, because she put away the apple, wiped her hands and sat down across from me. “It’s only for three weeks, then you two can hang out again.” She touched my hands and I froze. Her fingers were so soft. I stared at her hands, at the shiny pink nails. Pink is a girl color, Mom always insisted. Mrs. K was most definitely a woman though, and she loved wearing pink. It looked perfect on her.

I tried to calm myself and looked up into her pretty face. She looked so compassionate and worried. My bottom lip started to quiver, and I couldn’t stop my feelings. Tears streaked down my cheeks and I sobbed.

She sighed. Her fingers slid over my hands, making them tingle, and my sobs grew louder.

“It’s only for three weeks, then you two can be together for the rest of the holidays,” she told me softly and squeezed my hands.

Oh god. I wanted her to hold my hands like this forever. Her thumbs started rubbing small circles on the backs of my hands, and my tummy was filled with that bubbling feeling again. I knew I shouldn’t, but I suddenly had to tell her. “It’s not about Tracy!” I sobbed and hung my head.

Her fingers stopped moving. It felt like we sat like this for ages. I wanted to run around the table and cling to her, to cry into her shoulder, but she was Mrs. K, Tracy’s mom. You didn’t just hug someone else’s mom like this.

“Jessie?” she said quietly. I bit down a fresh sob. “Jessie?” she asked again. “Please look at me.”

There was something in her voice I couldn’t disobey. I slowly looked up. My bottom lip didn’t stop quivering. It had to look so silly.

She stared right into my eyes with her gray, knowing ones. She looked puzzled at first. I pulled one hand away, angrily wiped my tears from my eyes, then put my hand back – almost. I wanted to slip it back into her hand and have her hold it, but I wasn’t sure it would be okay, so I placed it as close as I could without touching her fingers.

She kept looking me in the eyes while I prayed that she would touch that hand again. When she finally laid her fingers over mine, I felt like I could finally breathe again. But then her eyes widened and her expression turned strange. I didn’t know how I knew, but I realized that she understood what I wasn’t saying.

“Jessie,” she said, but I was suddenly so incredibly terrified and embarrassed.

I jumped up and raced from the kitchen. My eyes blurred, but I made it onto my bike, and then I pedaled back home as fast as I could.

Mom let me stay home for the last two days of school when I told her I wasn’t feeling well. We already got our report cards on Monday, and we would be off to senior high after the summer anyway. Tracy kept texting me every hour or so, asking what was wrong, but I kept my answers short, panicked I might start rambling and give something away.

Then it was Monday, the first real day of holidays. Tracy was on her way to her grandparents with her dad. I was a bit at a loss what to do.

“Jessie?” Mom called up from the basement.

“Yes, Mom?” I traipsed downstairs barefooted on the cold stairs.

“Emma wants to borrow a few of my jam jars. I told her you’d bring them over.” She was holding the big woven basket with the handle, and it was filled with jars. “Jessie?” she asked when I froze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I quickly lied. “I thought there was something under my foot.” I didn’t really have a choice, did I? I took the basket.

“Put on shoes when you ride your bike,” Mom reminded me, and I rolled my eyes. “Emma might need some help with the jam, so I don’t mind if you stay a while.”

“O-okay, Mom,” I said and quickly pattered up the stairs. I was not going to stay. I was going to go in, put the basket on the counter and leave.

“Oh Jessie, how wonderful that you’re here. You can put the basket on the table. I’ve already filled the sink so you can rinse the jars. There’s still quite a bunch of strawberries to clean and rhubarb to peel. It would be brilliant if you could give me a hand with those. Say you will.”

Mrs. K was trying to kill me, I was sure of that. She was wearing a pair of tight, pink teddy shorts and a yellow bikini top. God, her body was so fit. Even in the faded shorts and old bikini, she looked like a model, and her skin was so soft and smooth. I tried to say I didn’t have time, but she had talked to Mom. She would know I had no plans. I couldn’t be impolite. “Sure, Mrs. K,” I said.

She had turned her back to me already and started cutting the bad spots from the strawberries with a small knife. The glass in the basket rattled when I put it down on the table. Her legs and tush looked so pretty. She got on tiptoes and reached for another plastic bowl, and her muscles tightened. For a short, crazy moment I wanted to fall to my knees and kiss her leg. All the way up from her heel to her butt. I felt dizzy and hot all of a sudden. Something was wrong with me.

I reached into the basket for the first two jars to wash, but I nearly dropped them because I was still staring at Mrs. K. With a huge effort, I forced myself to look away and put the jars into the sink. They’d been cleaned before mom stowed them in the basement, so I only had to wipe away some dust. I set them upside down to dry and fetched two more. Mrs. K was quietly working on the strawberries, and I didn’t talk either while I rinsed the jars. I relaxed a bit. It was nice to work next to her. I couldn’t really look, but she was there, close by, and I stole quick glimpses every time I turned around for the jars.

The last jar got a very thorough washing. I didn’t want to leave my safe spot in front of the sink. But I couldn’t keep washing that jar forever. I set it on the dish rack and yelped when my back bumped into something. Someone. Mrs. K!

She said the dreaded words. “We need to talk, Jessie.”

She touched my shoulders and gently pushed, so I turned around. She stood too close. It made me nervous and dizzy, and when she took my hand and led me to a chair, I plopped down weakly. She pulled up another chair and sat too. Our knees were almost touching.

“I can see that you are nervous,” she said gently. “Jessie, please repeat why I am going to say. Can you do that?”

It took a lot of effort to nod.

“Good.” She took my hand again, and heat traveled up my arm. “It is okay.”

“It – it is okay,” I whispered.

“It is okay to look at Mrs. K.”

My eyes widened. She squeezed my hand. “It is okay ... to look ... at Mrs. K.” It sounded strange.

“Again,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“It – it is okay to look at Mrs. K.” Did she really mean it?

“Once more.”

Oh my god. “It is okay to look at Mrs. K!”

“It is okay,” she said and put her right foot on the edge of my seat between my legs. I stared at her pretty toes with their shiny pink nails. “It is only looking, it doesn’t hurt anyone. I don’t mind if you look. In fact, I enjoy it. It makes me feel pretty. You may look all you like, whenever you like, how long you like.”

“Really?” I asked in a whisper.

“It will be our secret,” she said. “What parts of me do you like looking at most?”

“Oh gawd,” I whispered and took a shaking breath. “Your eyes.”

She smiled warmly. “Something else? Don’t be shy.”

My skin prickled. It was a wonderful feeling, like drinking lemonade for the very first time and feeling it tickle you inside your nose, only much better.

“Y-your legs,” I admitted with a blush.

“Anything else?”

“Do I have to say it?” I asked meekly.

“Only if you really love to look at it.”

I bit my lip. “Your tush,” I whispered and closed my eyes.

“Is there more?”

My cheeks were burning to crisps. “Your boobs,” I said, then clamped a hand over my mouth. “I mean, your chest, I-”

“It’s okay. Breasts, boobs, tits. I don’t mind. You really like looking at them? They aren’t quite as perky anymore as they used to be.”

“They are perfect.”

“Oh Jessie, you’re so sweet. You make me feel really pretty.”

“But you are!” I gasped.

“Do you want to come over to watch me more often?”

Did she really mean it? “I’d love to.”

“I’ll find reasons to have you here. You don’t need to do anything but look at me and help me feel pretty. How does that sound?”

I couldn’t form words. My mouth opened and closed a few times. I was finally about to say how perfect it sounded when the phone rang. She fetched it from the cradle, put it to her ear and leaned over the counter on her elbows, sticking out her tush just a few feet away. I would have glimpsed covertly at it in the past, but she said it was okay. I didn’t understand what exactly made me want to look at it, but my stomach fluttered and I grew warmer between my thighs with every second.

I suddenly heard her say a name that made me perk up and pay attention.

“Yes, Renee, she’s helping me. No, not at all. You know I don’t mind. She’s such an angel.” She laughed. “Oh no, you don’t have to bother. She can borrow some of Tracy’s stuff. Take care of your neighbor however long it takes. We’ll do fine. Without Jacob and Tracy, it’s too quiet anyway. It will be just like having my daughter around, only this version is actually helpful and polite.” She laughed again. “Yes, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I got a dreadful feeling when she hung up. “Mrs. K?”

She turned around and sighed. “Your neighbor Mrs. Wilcox took a fall and broke her hip last night. Your mom heard her shout for help and called an ambulance. Since her son is abroad, your mom is going to fetch her what she needs and stay at the hospital until she wakes up from her surgery. She asked me if you could stay here tonight.”

I didn’t know what to feel. Mrs. Wilcox was okay, if a little strange sometimes. She didn’t pay much attention to me, but I knew she and Mom often talked. “I hope she’ll be alright,” I said. Oh gawd. I’d have the whole day with Mrs. K.

“Your mother is positive that she will recover. Have you peeled rhubarb before?”

“No. Mom never lets me. She’s afraid I’ll cut my fingers.”

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

She demonstrated to me how to peel the hard strands from the stalks. Then I tried, but I somehow either just cut off the ends or missed most of them. I nearly fainted when she stood behind me, wrapped her hands around mine and gently moved them for me. It was like magic. My hands tingled and followed her directions, slipping easily under the edges and peeling away the strands without ripping a single one.

“You have to concentrate, but you need to keep your wrists relaxed,” she said when the stalk was peeled. “Do you think you got it?”

“Can we do one more?”

“Of course.”

I was floating. I somehow did get it, mostly at least. My stalks didn’t look as perfect as hers, but she said they were fine, and I grinned madly when she praised my work. I peeled all of the rhubarb and cut it into pieces. Then we mixed it with the strawberries, added a little water and set it cooking. The air was filled with an intense, fruity and sweet scent. She let me stir in the sugar and sprinkle a bit of lemon acid into it, explaining that it helped the jam thicken.

We then held the dry jars upside down over the pot so the steam could kill any stray germs, she said, filled them with jam using a ladle and quickly screwed on the lid. We put them upside down to cool.

Mrs. K handed me stickers and had me write a label for every glass while she cleaned up the kitchen, saying that I had a much prettier script as she did.

We ate salad with chicken and home baked bread. I overdid it a little and grew tired, so I took a nap on the porch swing while Mrs. K took a shower and rested for a bit herself in her bedroom.

I woke when a shadow moved over me for a second. Blinking my eyes open, I saw a glass of elderflower lemonade on the small table next to the swing. Dew clung to the outside. Then I noticed Mrs. K on the sun lounger. She was lying on her front, and my gaze was drawn to her tush. She had put on bikini bottoms, or perhaps she’d already had them on under the teddy shorts. They matched the top and didn’t cover all of her butt. The two lines where her thighs and butt met fascinated me. The skin looked so soft there.

I sat up and picked up the cool glass. I took a long sip and looked some more at Mrs. K’s tush and legs, and I enjoyed the fuzzy feeling I experienced between my thighs.

“You’re looking, aren’t you?” she asked without looking up. She was reading a dime novel.

My mouth grew dry, and I took another sip. “Yes, Mrs. K.” I couldn’t stop my blush, and I was glad she wasn’t looking at me.

“Good,” she said. “I really meant it. I like it when you look.”

“I do too,” I said in a moment of bravery.

She reached back and ran a finger along the edge of her bikini bottoms, and I licked my lips. I wondered what it would feel like to do that, to slip my owner finger under the fabric and slide it across her tush. I doused the twinge of guilt with another sip of lemonade.

“Is Mr. K going to stay with his parents the whole time too?” I remembered to ask.

“No, Matt will come back after the first week, once he is finished with the repairs he has planned.”

“Tracy told me they have a farm with sheep and cows and apple trees. That has to be nice.”

She laughed softly. “It is nice for kids, but it is a lot of work for the grown-ups, and his parents aren’t young anymore. They have to get up at five, take care of the animals, then tend to the fruit trees, crops and hay all day, check fences and repair them, and in the evening they need to see to the animals again. Then there are all the machines to clean and keep in working order, and hardly any time for holidays.”

“Did you grow up on a farm too?”

“I actually did. I loved it as a kid. It was like one big adventure. We rode the animals and played with them, built forts in the woods and – just don’t tell anyone I told you that – climbed up the hay barn all the way to the roof and jumped into the stack. But the older I got, the more I had to work, and it stopped being that much fun. I’m glad though because I learned so much about gardening and cooking.”

“It does sound cool,” I said. “I don’t know much about gardening. I mean, not about fruits and vegetables and spices. We only have flowers, and all there is to do is pluck weeds and water them.”

“Well, how about I teach you a bit about that this week?”

“I’d like that,” I said and emptied my glass. A small belch escaped me. “Sorry,” I gasped, but she only chuckled.

She turned onto her back. Since she was wearing dark sun glasses, I couldn’t see if she was looking at me.

“I’m going to close my eyes for a bit. Can you wake me up in half an hour in case I fall asleep?”

“Sure, Mrs. K.”

She stretched her body and sighed, then put her arms to her sides and relaxed. I watched her. Her breathing evened out. Her skin sparkled with a thin sheen of sweat. Sometimes, she would make a small sounds. Her legs would tighten every so often and she would arch her feet. I didn’t pay that much attention to them before, but they were just as pretty as the rest of her, smooth and lean. I looked at her shoulders. I loved how they were both muscular and soft. Her intricate collarbones shifted a little when she moved just a little. A coy smile sometimes played over her lips, and once or twice, she scrunched up her nose and gasped a few times, then she relaxed again and smiled softly.

It was so beautiful to watch her sleep that I almost missed the time. It was three minutes too late when I looked at my watch. “Mrs. K?” I said, but she didn’t react, so I got up from swing and touched her shoulder. “Mrs. K?”

She stirred for a moment, but then she relaxed again. I didn’t want to shake her, so I slid my hand up and down her upper arm. “Mrs. K?”

“Hm,” she murmured.

“Mrs. K?”

Her hands moved. She slid them up her tummy and over her breasts. My breath hitched when it looked like she was squeezing them. She lifted her arms over her head and arched her back.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Jessie.”

“You – you fell asleep.”

She giggled softly, making a chiming sound, and I had to grin.

“I was dreaming,” she said.

“Was it a nice dream?”

She pushed up her sun glasses. “Very nice,” she said with a strange tone and looked straight at me. A strange warmth spread in my chest. “Gosh. I’m well cooked and parched. Would you hand me my glass please, Jessie?”

“Sure,” I said and plucked the glass out from under the lounger. I held it out, but she just sat up and leaned onto her hands. When she didn’t move, I put the glass in front of her face and guided the straw to her lips.

She took a long sip and sighed. “Better,” she said. “Thank you, honey.”

I almost giggled when she called me honey. “Do you want some more?”

“No, it’s fine. I need to get into the shade. And there’s wash waiting to be done and a living room to be cleaned.”

“I can help with that,” I offered.

“You’re a gem,” she said.

So we cleaned for the rest of the afternoon, stuck the label to the cooled jars and stowed them in the basement and prepared dinner. After we ate and did the dishes, Mrs. K suggested we watch a movie together. Of course I was all for it.

“Let’s go upstairs and put on something more comfortable,” she suggested and took my hand.

I felt a bit strange when we walked into Tracy’s room and Mrs. K started rummaging through her wardrobe. I knew a lot of the stuff, of course, but it still was different because she wasn’t there. I bit my lip while Mrs. K searched for clothes, and my eyes went wide when she pulled a pair of cute, thin, pink panties from the bottom drawer, crouched down in front of me and held them against my body.

“These should fit,” she said with a smile and put them in my hands.

Mom often handed me panties, and I never thought about it. But this felt different. Intimate. Mrs. K knew that I was going slip them over my naked body, and that somehow made me warm and embarrassed me.

“Oh, I have an idea,” she gushed and opened the closet. She slid a few of Tracy’s dresses to the side and pulled out a bright pink nightgown. “I guess I like pink,” she said with a sheepish grin and held it out to me. It was simple and straight, and it looked like it would end a little above my knees.

“I like pink too,” I confessed, which made her smile.

“Don’t take too long,” she said and left me alone to change.

I didn’t take long. I didn’t want to lock the door, but I was afraid she might come back for some reason and catch me naked, so I changed as fast as I could. I had to wait almost ten minutes until Mrs. K came down, but it was so worth the wait. Her dress was also pink. I wasn’t sure if it was really a night gown or something else. It had shoulder straps in almost transparent pink. The fabric shimmered in the light, and a narrow, oval patch at the front was made from the same material as the shoulder straps. It went from a hand’s width below the collar to her navel, and when she walked closer, it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Do you like it?” she asked, just an arm’s length away.

“I – I love it,” I gushed when she turned around. The back was all see through mesh as well, all the way down to her tush so I could even see the small dimple at its top.

She cuddled into the other corner of the couch. It was still too warm for blankets, and I was happy about it. She put on the telly, but I barely looked at it. My gaze was caught by her chest. Depending on the light from the telly fell, I could sometimes see glimpses of soft skin shimmer through the thin mesh. She had her legs folded under her and was avidly watching the movie. Sometimes she took deeper breaths, and the fabric slid over her breasts, drawing my eyes to the two bumps that outlined her nipples.

Her eyelids started to droop. I only meant to catch the remote when her fingers relaxed and it started to slide towards the edge of the couch, but when I in front of her and took the remote, she let out a deep sigh and slid lower. The hem of her nightie caught on the cushions and slid up, or her body slid out, or however, and I froze and stared. She wiggled and slid even lower, nestling her head against the armrest with a relaxed moan, and her pubes were completely uncovered. She wasn’t wearing panties!

I had seen pubes before. My own, those of my classmates in the showers. Mom’s, when I walked in on her in the bathroom because she had forgotten to lock it. A few on television. But I had never seen ones with a thin, pink strip of short, soft hair. My heart was beating like a jungle drum. I took a glance at Mrs. K’s face to make sure she was still asleep, then I sat down with my legs against the couch, propped my chin on my arms and looked at her pubes. Her pussy. I knew people called it that, but it sounded so benign.

She had a lovely mound. The pale skin looked so smooth up close that I felt a yearning to run my fingertips over it. Her outer labia – I remembered the terms we had learned in sex ed – were thick and fleshy, so different from my own ones. They didn’t close all the way. Mine were nestled tightly against each other, but Mrs. K’s had a gap about as wide as the tip of my pinkie finger was, and her inner lips peeked out between them, curly and rosy, almost matching the pink strip of hair.

I remembered what Kelly-Anne told me about her older sister Brooke. She had walked in on her and her best friend Sally, and they had both been naked and Brooke had been kissing Sally’s pussy. Kelly-Anne had giggled and scrunched up her face when she told it, and gotten me to get me to agree that it was gross.

It wouldn’t be gross at all to kiss Mrs. K’s pussy, I decided. I could smell her body. Behind the scent of rose soap and body lotion, there was something earthy and spicy. It reminded me a bit of the spice garden she had shown me today, and the scent that had wafted to me when she plucked a few weeds from the soil. I knew it was silly to think of kissing her there, but it was nice to imagine doing it. I was sure it would feel nice for her too. I sometimes played with my pussy under the covers and thought of Mrs. K, and I loved the feeling of my fingers gently brushing over my pubes when I did that. Sometimes, when I felt particularly naughty, I rubbed my little pearl until my whole body exploded with joy.

I woke with a start. My body hurt. I didn’t know where I was. Something moved right in front of me. I blinked my eyes a few times and forgot to breathe.

“You’re awake,” Mrs. K quietly said, and a shiver raced up my spine. I almost fainted.

She was no longer lying on the couch but sitting upright. Her legs were to my left and right, and her pussy was straight in front of me. Since her legs were apart, it peeked open wider, allowing me to see so much more detail. I could even see her pearl. It was far larger than mine and darker than the rest, peeking out from its hook.

“Do you like looking at my pussy?” she asked. Her voice seemed a little deeper, a little rougher.

“Yes,” I admitted meekly.

“This will be our little secret, won’t it?”

“Sure, Mrs. K.” It was difficult to talk. My jaw was trembling a little.

“Look closely,” she said. I almost fainted when she slid a hand over her mound and pulled her outer labia apart.

It was like watching a rose bloom unfold. A warm, moist feeling washed through my lower body, and for a moment, I thought I had just peed myself and almost jump up in shame. It was a different feeling though, and I recognized it as the same feeling I got when I played with myself. “It’s beautiful, Mrs. K,” I said.

“Just a moment,” she said with a strangely trembling voice. Her other hand reached down, and her index finger tickled her pearl. It grew even larger, darker, turned shiny smooth. Then she pulled her legs up and put her feet onto the couch, and I could see the opening of her vagina. It shimmered a little with moisture.

I stared in wonder. The urge to kiss here there became almost overwhelming. I pulled my gaze away and looked up. The look in her eyes was so warm and intense that it made me shiver.

“It’s late,” she said. “We should go to bed.”

“Yes,” I agreed, unable to move, wanting nothing more that to stay here.

She swung one leg over me, pulled her dress down and touched my shoulder. I finally could breathe freely again now that the temptation was gone and slowly stood up. My knees hurt a bit, but it was so worth it.

“Let’s go,” she said, stood up and took my hand.

I leaned against the frame of the patio door and watched her go through her Yoga exercises. She was so fit and flexible, and she moved so slowly and gracefully. It was still a bit sleepy, and watching felt like watching the sun rise and it woke me up. The air was still clear and fresh. I shifted my weight between my legs, rubbing my thighs together.

I dreaded having to go back home. I wanted to spend every minute of every day around Mrs. K.

She made scrambled eggs with bacon while I crunched on my cereals and laughed when she had to make more because I was still so hungry.

“You’re worse than Tracy,” she said with a laugh and slid another helping onto my plate.

“Yours taste even better than Mom’s,” I explained. “I can’t help it.”

“You don’t have to. You can have as much as you want. Especially since you’re so happy. Tracy is not a morning person.” She sat down and buttered her toast.

“I saw you do Yoga.” I took another mouthful and sighed in delight. “Can you teach me to do that too?”

“It takes a few years. Well, perhaps not years since you’re still young and fit, but a few months of daily training at least. It’s awkward and sometimes painful at first.”

“I don’t mind,” I promised. “I want to be as pretty as you are when I’m grown up.”

“You already are,” she said.

“You don’t have to butter me up, Mrs. K,” I said sternly.

“Oh, Jessie, you really have no idea, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so cute it’s almost illegal.”

“But only cute, not pretty.” I pulled my t-shirt tight over my chest. “I haven’t got boobs. I’m skinny. My hair is boring brown.”

She shook her head. “To me, you are pretty. Full stop. I’m neither lying nor exaggerating.”

Just then, the phone rang.

“It’s Mom,” I said.

She fetched the phone and pull up an eyebrow at my skill at fortune telling, but it was half past eight, and Mom always called around this time when she was away. “It is,” she whispered to me before picking up. “Hi, Renee, how was your night? Oh, that sucks. Two more? No, no problem at all. She’s a gem. She’s helping around the house, so it’s almost like a holiday for me. Nah, no need to. If it was longer, yes, but we will easily make do. I’ll tell her. Take care, Renee.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“The surgery went okay, but they found a cracked vertebra too and it took them quite some time to fix that. Mrs. Wilcox has been awake for a little while, but she’s a bit disoriented from the anesthesia and frightened from lying in her house all alone for so long. It will take her son at least two more days until he can be here, and she doesn’t want to leave Mrs. Wilcox alone. She didn’t react well to the strangers in the hospital.”