A/N: This is connected to a fic that I'm horrifically stuck on but refuse to give up on. I've decided to "release" this as a drabbly, one shot in hopes that it will spur me to get moving on the connected fic.

"Esme, I'm heading off to Ralph Lauren to get Nessie..."

I sighed as I finished scooping the coffee grounds into the basket, closed it and pressed the start button. "Alice, I really don't think..."

"I'll be back in a half hour!" she called, dashing out the door before I could finish my thought. I eyed the pile of clothes my granddaughter had outgrown- some she hadn't even had a chance to wear and most of which she had only worn once.

Shaking my head, I smiled as I recalled the last set of clothes I brought to the shelter. Patty, the director, had gasped and asked me if I was sure about ten times, about whether I didn't want to keep them for my future grandchildren. She failed to notice my face fall as she was so excited by the items I brought with me.

"Our children will be the best dressed in Port Angeles, Esme," she laughed after I assured her that we wanted the shelter to have them.

I had met Patty days after we moved to Forks when I dropped off the first load of groceries I bought for appearances sake. My twice weekly trips to drop off food quickly led to our chatting as I helped her put the items away. Strangely, she wasn't the slightest bit afraid of me and we fast became friends. I realized how much I had missed having another woman, someone who wasn't my daughter, to talk to.

In between our adventures with James, the newborns, Victoria, and the Volturi, I still went to the shelter at least once a week. First I would just take food, then later, my donations also included clothing for the women who found themselves strong enough to leave even when they had no place to go. Carlisle soon began joining me on my trips, volunteering his services, which were especially needed during cold and flu season. During the holidays, Carlisle and I would bring gifts for the children. The image of Carlisle in a Santa suit never failed to make me smile.

The sound of the front door opening jarred me from my thoughts and I wrinkled my nose before turning to see Jacob entering the kitchen. "Hi Esme," he said in greeting as he naturally crossed the room, took a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Hello Jacob," I replied. "Did you eat?" I asked, knowing that he had of course but would be more than happy to eat again. If you had asked me when we moved to Forks if I would ever imagine myself making breakfast for a werewolf slash shapeshifter, I would have laughed. But now... Jacob had become a member of our family, another son for me to mother, and if that meant making him pancakes and bacon, then I would make him pancakes and bacon. Even if the smell made me want to gag.

Because a mother would do anything for her children.