Gemotions

"Aunt Millie's Meringues" – the words mocked Eleanor from the glossy magazine. It was her grandmother, not "Aunt Millie," who had perfected those airy, melt-in-your-mouth confections. The photo, too, was hers: the perfect swirl, the delicate crackle of the sugar.

A tingle spread through her fingers, making her want to leap and do something to help.

She picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Eleanor,” she said to the number listed on the magazine. "I'm calling about the article." There was a pause, a nervous intake of breath on the other end. "I just wanted to say how lovely the photographs were. And the meringues," she said, "they looked wonderful."

"Thank you," said the woman, relief evident in her voice. "We're so glad you liked them."

"They reminded me of home,” Eleanor finished, and hung up. She smiled and went to her kitchen. Maybe she should bake some for herself.