Paige Ellery

There is a particular sound at Alder House when one of Paige's regulars comes up the steps. It's her laugh, through the screen door, before she's even reached the porch.

Paige remembers things. Not in a notebook way, in a person way. She'll ask how the new job is going, whether the dog got over his cough, how the wedding was. She remembers that you like your tea with honey and that you'd rather not talk about the weather. People come back to see her the way you go back to a good neighbor's kitchen: because she's glad to see you, and you can tell.

Nine years in has made her calm and quick at the same time. She's easy company. She talks things through in plain words, she checks in without fussing, and she has a way of making a first visit feel like a third one.