He went straight into the living room and sat on the front edge of the blue sofa.

He pressed his knees together and set the brown paper bag flat on the glass coffee table between us.

“I had to go to three different grocery stores to find these,” Brandon said quietly.

He reached into the bag and drew out a rectangular yellow cardboard box with blue lettering down the side.

They were the lemon tea biscuits Evelyn always picked up at the specialty market by the Oakridge train station.

“The big supermarket out by the highway quit carrying them six months ago,” Brandon said.