None of us said much as we ate. It was that good. The lobster cakes were hot and buttery, brown and crunchy on the outside, sweet and white on the inside. She’d baked cheese into the biscuits and topped each one with a dab of pepper relish. For dessert, she brought out a dish of strawberries dusted with a little cane sugar. The breeze curtsied as it passed by. A chimney swift sketched a curlicue overhead. If there had been music, it might have been too much to bear.
