He Made Her His Old Lady. I Took His Baby and Vanished novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Greet's Lake

Greet Rademaker fed me eggs, fried potatoes and two slices of dark bread before she asked me a single question.

Her kitchen sat at the back of the tackle shop, with a table covered in oilcloth and a window that looked over the pier.

A shotgun leaned in the corner beside the broom.

"Eat," she said. "The baby has a vote."

"How did you know I was pregnant?"

"I've been watching you stand up from that chair." She poured me coffee, then took it back and poured me tea. "No coffee. Two cups a day, at most, and I'll count them."

"You're bossy."

"I'm sixty-one and I run a bait shop, honey. I'm the boss of everything within a mile."

I laughed, for the first time in two weeks.

She sat across from me with her hands around her own cup.

"Your Oma and I came up from the same church in Holland," she said. "Same choir, same hard husbands. When mine died, she drove up with a casserole and stayed a month. I never forgot it."

"She never told me about you."

"She told you what she told you." Greet looked at the pier. "She also told me one thing, in March, in this kitchen. She said, if my Femke ever turns up with nowhere to go, you take her in, and you don't send her back to that man."

I put my fork down.

"What man?"

"Your Oma knew about the motorcycles," Greet said. "She just never liked to say."

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