Chapter 80 The Letter

• The church basement hummed with the clatter of bake sale prep—cookie sheets clanging, parishioners laughing, children darting between tables to steal sprinkles. Sunlight streamed through high windows, painting dust motes gold, and the air clung to the buttery warmth of pie crusts and grief.
• Lily knelt beside a folding table, her tongue poking out in concentration as she arranged oatmeal raisin cookies on a paper plate.
• “These’re *healing* cookies,” she announced to a girl in braids. “They fix sad hearts.”