Luckily for shy Delia, Belle really got into singing with the radio and the chorus got her moving. She was doing slow turns across the kitchen as she sang.
Belle stopped just in time not to run the poor little girl down. At six feet in her bare feet, she towered over almost all women and a few men. She had a couple of inches on her bear of a man husband. So she was used to having to be careful to not run people over. She placed the bowl of batter she'd been stirring on the counter, brushing a stray curl from her face that has escaped the hasty bun she'd tried to tame her wild hair into for cooking.
"Sorry, honey, I didn't see ya' there," she said with a warm smile. "You must be Delia. Or do you like Grace better? I'm Belle. Nice to meet ya' in person."