The smell of baking bread filled the small kitchen in Yorkshire. It was a warm and comforting smell that made Michael Sterling forget about the pressure of the Premier League for a moment.
Michael sat at the wooden table. He held a cup of tea in his hands.
Opposite him sat his mother Martha. She looked well. The color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were sharp and bright. She was currently holding Baby Gabriel who was staring at her with intense blue eyes.
"He is judging me," Martha said rocking the baby. "Look at him Michael. He thinks my tea is too weak."
"He thinks everything is too weak," Michael laughed. "He frowned at the Manchester City game yesterday."
"Good," Martha said. "He has high standards. Like his grandmother."
Michael took a sip of tea. It was perfect.
"I am glad you are okay Mom," Michael said softly. "I was worried."
