"I am curious. What kind of home you grew up," She started to move around the room.
It wasn't a fancy room. Just a simple room which was common during that time. She could see lots of books filled up the small bookshelf beside the window. There were even some difficult books that she could recognise.
"I honestly didn't expect that you are literate, since you don't go to school. Have you finished reading all of these?" She walked closer to the bookshelf and touch the books, feeling the covers one by one by her fingertips.
"Most of them," the boy answered nonchalantly, he didn't even take a single glance to the young lady.
The young lady picked a book and started reading it from the middle. She walked to the sofa and sat there. The boy noticed the sudden silent and lifted up his head from his soup.
"What are you doing?"
The young lady lifted up her eyes from the book but immediately continued reading, "Reading. Can't you see it?"
"That's not what I meant. I asked you earlier why did you take a trouble to come here only to deliver some soup and pies. And now, instead of going back to the shop to help the owner, you are staying here and start reading book." He raised his voice a little, sounded impatient.
"I never thought you are quite a hot-blooded boy. Well, we don't open the shop today, actually. After your father came to deliver the blueberries, Granny Lisda went to meet her old friend. That's why I am the one delivering the soup and pies instead of Granny."
The young boy calmed down with the answer.
"Besides, your mother asked me to join her lunch."
The boy suddenly moved his eyes to the young lady once again, surprised.
"Lunch?" The boy looked at the young lady, nearly dropped his spoon.
"Why? Is it really that shocking for your mother inviting a guest for a lunch?" She closed the book in front of her.
"Your mother is not a total stranger to me, you know? She was a student of my mother. I knew her since I was a kid."
The boy looked interested with the new fact. He put his spoon and placed the bowl on his drawer beside the bed. "So, you know my mother?"
"Maybe to be exact, I knew your mother. It's been more than 8 years since the last time I met her. I can't really say I know her now, right?"
"Hem, you might be true. So, tell me more, about my mother being your mother's student, I mean."
The young lady took a glance at the young boy, then she reopened the book, trying to find the last page she read. The awkward silence floated for a while, but the young boy waited patiently. He knew he shouldn't rush it.
"Well, it wasn't much. My mother opened a free-class, teaching some youngsters in our neighbourhood about farming, dairy product and processing, and how to manage small money. It was her idealism to help younger people, sharing knowledges to survive the war."
"I see. No wonder she is so good, though our family farm is definitely not big."
Suddenly the door was knocked several times and opened. "The lunch is ready. Lynn, come join me. It's not fun to eat alone, and we have years to catch up," the lady smiled nicely to the young lady.
"Sure. I also miss your cooking," she looked at the boy, "See you at the shop, boy. Get well soon."
"Are you satisfied with my environment?"
"Very," then the young lady closed the door.
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