“The new locks are solid brass,” I said, dropping the measuring spoons back into the drawer.

“The locksmith put a whole new mechanism in both doors.”

She carried the full pan to the stove, holding it level with both hands so none of the dough circles slid off the paper.

“Can I carry the first warm plate across the street to Mrs.

Bennett?” she asked.

“Put your heavy winter boots on first,” I said, reaching for the thick cloth oven mitts hanging next to the stove.

I slid the baking sheet onto the middle rack and shut the heavy oven door.