(Rosalie's POV)
"Huh?" Sienna tilted her head, her curls bouncing. "Rosalie, don't you like raspberries?"
Her innocent question pulled me from my daze. I set down my dessert fork, the silver clinking softly against the china. My gaze softened as I looked at the little girl.
"Of course I do, Sienna," I said, my voice dropping to a gentle murmur. "It just reminded me of my childhood in Rhode Island."
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. The memory was sweet, like the jam my grandmother used to make.
"Back then, my grandmother had a huge patch of wild raspberry bushes in her backyard. When summer came and the fruit ripened, I would climb the apple tree next to them. I had to reach the highest branches to get the berries that had soaked up the most sun."
Sienna listened with wide ey
