Without a word, Ms. Reba slid a small plate across the island and winked. On it was a fresh, steaming blueberry scone, with large grains of sugar sprinkled on top. My eyes lit up immediately.

I looked from the plate to my Mom, who was still tapping away on her hand terminal, and then back to Ms. Reba. "Are you sure?" I whispered. The scones were much fancier than anything I'd seen her make before. That usually meant it was something for a customer, and she needed a specific count. Mom would give me an earful if I ate it and made her count short.

Ms. Reba nodded with a smile and I felt a sense of warmth fill me. That always happened when Ms. Reba had a smile for someone. "I need an expert opinion." She whispered back.

I took a big bite off the corner of the scone. I felt my lips curve up into a smile as the buttery pastry hit my tongue. I closed my eyes to savor the rare sweet treat. I swung my dangling feet back and forth as I swayed happily. "Yum!" I said, a little too loudly, after I'd swallowed.

"You too, Claire." Ms. Reba said. She set another saucer down with a soft clink and slid it across the island towards the chair to my right.

"Hmm?" Mom asked, turning but not looking up. It seemed like she was almost done with the maintenance request. She'd been completely engrossed in the task since she started.

"Come have a seat." Ms. Reba replied.

It was then that Mom looked up and made eye contact with me. I had a full mouth, crumbs all over my face, and the biggest smile I could have without showing my teeth. The scone was half gone.

"Fiona!" Mom exclaimed. "Where are your manners? I thought I raised you better than this, young lady!"

Ms. Reba passed a napkin across the island and I quickly cleaned my face. She placed one next to the scone she'd offered my mother, too.

"I'm sorry about her, Mrs. Henry. And I don't want to impose." Mom tried to refuse. "I only came to drop off your order before heading to the market." She pulled a large parcel that was wrapped in a gray plastic from her tote bag. She brought it to the island and stood beside the waiting scone.

"Nonsense." Said Ms. Reba. She waved her hand again, this time dismissively. "You were kind enough to complain about my moody door to the maintenance team. It's only a scone. Fair trade."

Mom knew a lot of the ingredients, especially the blueberries, were on the expensive side of things. "I can't..." She began.

"I insist." Ms. Reba said with finality, turning my mother's own words against her.

I had to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from losing precious crumbs as I laughed.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me playfully as she slid into the seat beside me. She handed the plastic bundle to Ms. Reba and picked up the scone. She took a few nibbles before she realized how tasty it was and began to eat it normally. "This is delicious!" She said, after her second full bite.

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Ms. Reba gave a small curtsy in response. She unwrapped the bundle on the island. Inside was a thick quilt, handmade by my mother. The design was simple, but the stitching was neat and solid. It was primarily white, but had shades of purple and blue throughout the pattern.

"Oh! It's wonderful, Claire. Thank you!" Ms. Reba announced, after inspecting the blanket.

Mom smiled through a mouthful of scone. She swallowed. "I'm glad you like it! It was my first attempt at quilting instead of knitting or crocheting."

"Well you should absolutely make more. Folks around here will be lining up for a good quilt come the winter."

"I think I'll do that, now that you mention it."

I licked each of my fingers that had held the scone and then used my index finger to lift the last remaining crumbs from my plate.

"I'll go get your credits, hun. Excuse me for a moment." Ms. Reba disappeared into her bedroom, taking the quilt with her. A moment later, she returned carrying several sturdy plastic cards. The credits were all the same size, about an eighth of an inch thick, three inches long, and an inch and a half wide. They each had a small chip in them for authentication, with their value engraved below. Each denomination was a different color. Our host handed the stack of six to my mother with a closed hand.

"Thank you." Mom said. Then she looked down. She gasped. "Mrs. Henry this is way too much."

Mrs. Reba had gone back to her baking. She switched another pair of baking sheets between the stovetop and the oven. "I don't mind paying for quality work." She replied innocently.

"This is more than double what what we agreed on, though!" Mom protested.

"Consider it a bonus for a job well done, faster than expected. I didn't expect you to finish it for another two or three weeks."

Mom reluctantly accepted and slid the credits into her pocket.

"Would you like some tea?" Ms. Reba asked. She opened another cabinet and began to pull down mugs. "I should have offered before. I'm not sure where my mind is today."

There were about three bites of Mom's scone left. "No, thank you." She refused. "I have some more errands to run this morning and some shopping to do at the market. We really should be going." She took another bite of her scone.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay until the storm passes?" Ms. Reba asked with her best lonely grandma face. She removed a blue and silver tin of tea from the shelf above the mugs. "The sands should calm down soon, and the market won't fully open until they do."

Mom hesitated. "It would be nice to have a proper visit..." She knew Ms. Reba was right.

The water was already heating on her stove.

Slowly, I slid my hand over the kitchen island towards Mom's plate. I picked the crumbs up with my finger, much as I had on my own saucer.

"I guess we can stay for a little bit." Mom relented.

"Wonderful!"

"But my little crumb thief needs to work on her lessons while we're here." Mom had a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Aww..." I mumbled. I thought I'd been sneakier and she hadn't noticed. I also hoped they'd let me participate in whatever gossip they had to share.

"May I please have another scone?" I asked Ms. Reba, a hopeful look on my face. Maybe I could stall with eating and get to hear a little about our neighbors.

Mom interjected. "No you absolutely may not. Don't be greedy, young lady."

I grumbled. There weren't really words in there, just a general sentiment.

"Go grab your terminal out of your bag and pull up your lessons." Mom instructed. "Then maybe you can have a cup of tea while you study."

"Okaaaay." I complained, not even trying to hide my mostly exaggerated disappointment.

"Why don't you go sit on the sofa, Fiona." Ms. Reba suggested. "It'll be more comfortable. I'll fix your tea and bring it to you when it's ready."

"Okay, Ms. Reba." I said, picking up my bag and moving to the sofa. I wanted to curl up with my feet on the couch, but I knew Mom would yell at me about manners again. I didn't want to take my boots off either. It was too much work.

Instead, I settled into a slouching position on the cushy blue sofa and pulled up my first lesson for the day. Math was soooo boring.