"Did Mrs. Greer talk to you?" He asked. His back was still to her. "She did."
Clara said. ""About us?"" ""Among other things."" A pause. He turned halfway not quite facing her. "Whatever she said." He started. "She said you were good children."
Clara said. "All four of you." Jacob's jaw worked. He turned back to the horse. "She doesn't know everything."
He said. "Nobody does." Clara said. "That's fairly standard." She picked up two of the supply packages and went into the house.
She spent the afternoon reorganizing the pantry and the kitchen with the systematic focus of a woman who found genuine comfort in ordered things. Emma helped as she had offered and proved herself to be not only willing, but competent. She knew where everything was supposed to go and had opinions about where things had gotten moved to and why it didn't make sense. "Mama kept the salt here." Emma said, holding a tin and looking at the shelf Clara had cleared.
"On this shelf, right at the front." "That's a good place for it." Clara said. "Put it there." Emma put it there carefully.
She smoothed the shelf with the flat of her hand afterward, the way someone does when they are being deliberate about a gesture. "Do you remember her cooking?" Clara asked. She said it carefully, leaving the door open for Emma to close it if she wanted to. Emma didn't close it.
"She made biscuits on Sundays." Emma said. "Papa always said they were the best biscuits in the county." She paused. ""I've been trying to make them, but they come out flat."" ""What kind of fat are you using?"" Emma blinked. ""What?"" ""In the biscuits, what fat are you cutting in?"" ""Lard, I think, from the tin."" ""And how cold is it when you work it in?"" Emma stared at her. "I don't...
I don't know. I just put it in." "The fat needs to be cold." Clara said. "Cold fat makes the layers.
Warm fat makes flat biscuits. Next Sunday, we'll put the lard in the icebox first, if there's ice." Emma was quiet for a moment. She looked at the shelf in front of her, the salt tin her hand still resting near it. "Okay."