My name is Hannah Carter, and last year, my life fell apart in ways I never could have predicted. After my divorce and job loss, I needed to disappear. I rented a small cedar cabin in a quiet Vermont town, hoping for solitude and space to grieve. I wanted peace, a place to read, cry, and figure out who I was without the life I had lost.
But I didn’t expect my neighbors to find me—or to shake my world upside down with their casseroles.
The Arrival of Evelyn and Henry
Less than 24 hours after I settled in, Evelyn and Henry Whitmore, an elderly couple who lived next door, appeared at my doorstep. Evelyn’s white hair was pinned neatly in a bun, and her eyes crinkled with what seemed like warmth. Henry, tall and stooped with age, had a gentle smile and kind eyes. Evelyn carried a steaming casserole wrapped in a dishcloth.“Welcome to the neighborhood, dear!” Evelyn exclaimed. “You look far too thin to be living out here all alone.”
