The Man Who Never Boarded the Plane
“Marguerite used to make that,” he said.
“I know, sir.
Lorelai told me the first autumn I was here.
She was six.
She told me the recipe from memory and most of it was wrong, and I’ve never corrected any of it, so what I make is not actually your wife’s cinnamon bread.
It’s a six-year-old’s version of it.” Rosamund set the pan down.
“That seemed more useful.”
He sat with that for a while.
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