by Jodi Vaughn
She went to the oranges and carefully chose three and placed them in a bag. She pulled out a pencil and scribbled something on the paper.
She didn’t say much when they went through the store. He watched as she carefully examined and compared prices. She looked unsure when she stopped at the meat section.
He glanced at his watch. He needed to get back to his farm.
He stepped up beside her and pointed to a package of ground beef. “I recommend this beef.”
“But it’s higher than the other.” She pointed to a different container.
“I know. The other is discounted because it’s older meat. You don’t want that. Besides, Ms. Elizabeth likes to use the freshest ingredients when she can.”
Heather hesitated for a moment and then grabbed the package he suggested.
“Anything else on your list?”
She glanced down. Her cheeks burned. “I need to get some peanut butter.”
“Aisle three.”
She hurried ahead of him and picked the cheapest brand of peanut butter the grocery store carried.
“Just get the name brand.” Grayson frowned.
“No, this is fine.” She stuck it in the cart and headed toward the cashier before he could get her to change her mind.
“Hi, Irene.” Grayson smiled at the older woman checking them out. “How are you?”
“I’m still alive. So that’s something.” She cut her eyes at Heather. “Who’s your friend, Grayson.”
“This is Heather Smith. She’s Ms. Elizabeth’s caretaker.”
Irene burst out laughing. “You best not be saying that around Elizabeth. She hates being reminded she’s getting old. Like me.” Irene continued to ring up the groceries. “How are you liking it in Harland Creek? Young thing like you is probably bored to death.”
“Oh no. It’s a very pretty town. And most everyone has been friendly.” Heather gave him serious side-eye.
He cringed. Maybe he hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat with her, but he had known women like her in the past. Young, pretty, with a yearning to move on to the next best thing.
“Good. We like to have a good report of our town. We may be small, but we are like family.” Irene nodded. “That will be ninety-five dollars.”
Heather pulled out the check that Elizabeth had given her. She filled it in and handed the check to Irene.
“Normally we need to see ID if a stranger is giving a check. But since this is Elizabeth’s and Grayson can vouch for you, I’ll make an exception.” Irene smiled.
“Thank you.” Heather seemed to relax a little and took the receipt that Irene held out.
Irene pulled a lollipop out of a jar next to the register. “Here you go. Welcome to Harland Creek.”
Heather’s face seem to light up with the simple gift. It wasn’t excitement he saw. To Grayson it looked like hope.
Chapter 10
The ride back had been strained. Heather didn’t want to talk to Grayson or answer any of his nosy questions. Thankfully, Justin had called about a problem with one of his cows. By the time he’d gotten off the phone, they were pulling into Elizabeth’s driveway.
“Thank you for the ride. I know the town a little better now, so I can get around with no problem.” She gave him a tight smile and slid out of the truck.
“I’ll help with the groceries.” He killed the engine and opened the back door of the truck.
“I can…”
“Heather. I’ll help. You can’t take all these groceries in at one time. Besides, this way is quicker. I’ve got to get back to the farm.” He grabbed multiple bags in both hands, leaving her with just the one bag with the oranges.
She grabbed the milk and her flowers, and slammed the door.
“That was quick.” Elizabeth opened the screen door and let them in. “I expected you two to be gone for a few hours.”
“She was eager to get back.”
Heather scowled as he set the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.
“Grayson, would you like something to drink?” Elizabeth offered.
“No, ma’am. I’ve got to be going.” He looked at Heather. “You forgot your flowers.”
“Flowers? That wasn’t on the list.” Elizabeth frowned.
“I didn’t buy them.” Heather cleared her throat. “They were a gift from Olivia.”
“How nice.” Elizabeth smiled. “Olivia’s a sweet girl.” She opened a cabinet. “I have just the vase for it.” She pulled down a cut glass vase and filled it with water.
She took the bouquet of flowers and placed them inside the vase. She rearranged until it met her satisfaction. “There. Now you can place this beside your bed. There is nothing like waking up to fresh flowers.”
Elizabeth followed Grayson out to the front porch while Heather quickly put away the groceries. She peered around the doorway. They were talking on the front porch. She opened her backpack and stuffed the oranges and jar of peanut butter inside. She zipped it and began putting away the groceries.
By the time Elizabeth walked inside she was done.
“Did you find everything on the list?” Elizabeth eased into a kitchen chair.
“I did.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans. She spotted the kitchen kettle on the stove. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“You up for making it?” Elizabeth eyed her.
“Sure. How hard could a cup of tea be?” She busied herself and turned the stove on and grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet.
“Come sit.” Elizabeth patted the chair next to her.
Heather eased into the chair. She dug around in her backpack and pulled out her notebook and pencil.
Elizabeth laughed. “You won’t need that. I just want to ask you something.”
She shifted in her seat. “About?”
“I need you to tell me the truth.” Elizabeth gave her a stern look.
She nodded, her throat too dry to speak. She’d only made it a day before her secret came out.
She’d made a promise she had intended to keep. She failed.
“I figured cooking wasn’t your specialty.” Elizabeth arched her brow.
She blinked.
“Don’t lie. I watched you last night.”
“What gave me away?” Relief slid through her like a cool spring rain.
“You wrote down every ingredient that went into each dish” Elizabeth said. “Plus, you didn’t know what a tablespoon was.” She grinned.
“Sorry. I should have told you. But I’m a fast learner.” The kettle began to whistle. Heather stood and turned off the heat. She put two tea bags into each cup and poured the hot water over them. She placed one mug in front of Elizabeth.
She sat down and wrapped her hands around her hot mug of tea but couldn’t bring herself to look at Elizabeth. Would she fire her because she found her lacking?
“Your mother didn’t teach you how to cook?”
Heather swallowed. “No. She wasn’t around.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either.
“I see.” Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Go look in the large cabinet in the living room. The one with all my quilts. There should be a notebook. Bring it in here.”
“But I have a notebook.” Heather’s fingers brushed against her backpack.
“You need a new one.” Elizabeth shook her head.
Heather walked into the living room and opened the dark doors of the cabinet. She was greeted with cheery quilts sewn with brilliant-colored fabrics. There had to be at least thirty quilts stashed in here.
She ran her fingers across the different quilt patterns.
“Did you find it?” Elizabeth called out from the kitchen.
“Sorry. I was looking at your quilts. Did you make all these?”
“I did. Look in the drawer at the bottom. There should be a notebook with flowers on it.”
Heather knelt and opened the drawer. She moved some random papers around until she spotted a dark-pink notebook with blue flowers on it.
<
br /> Standing, she shut the cabinet drawers and walked into the kitchen.
“Is this the one?” She held it up.
“Yes.” Elizabeth smiled and took a sip of her tea.
Heather sat and placed the notebook in front of the older woman.
Elizabeth’s weathered hand slowly pushed it in front of Heather. “This is for you. “
“Me?”
“Yes. This is going to be your recipe book. Every woman needs to know how to cook.” Elizabeth nodded firmly.
“To be able to catch a man?” Heather snorted. “That’s the last thing on my mind.”
“Who said anything about a man? Every woman needs to know how to cook for herself. If you get the hankering for a pot roast on Saturday afternoon, don’t you want to know how to make it?”
Just the idea made her mouth water. She nodded.
“And fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy on Sunday?”
“You still cook like that for yourself?”
“Of course I do. I’m not going to sit around and gnaw on some peanut butter sandwiches just because I’m old. Eating well is a sign of self-respect.” Elizabeth tapped her finger on the floral notebook. “I want you to write down recipes we make in here. That way you’ll know how to make them yourself. No matter where you are.” Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. “Speaking of which, do you know where you’ll go after I’m healed?”
The thought made Heather terribly sad.
“I haven’t decided.”
“I suppose you’ll be heading for greener pastures. You young people like the city.”
“I’ve had enough city to last me a lifetime,” Heather said softly.
Elizabeth seemed to be studying her.
Heather shrugged. “I’m not sure what I’ll do after this. Right now, I’m focused on today and helping you get better. I saw a sheet of exercises the physical therapist wants you to do.” She flipped through some papers scattered on the kitchen table. She found the sheet.
“But first.” Elizabeth held her hand up. “Let’s make lunch. Then we can exercise and see about the flowers. I think we should make a pasta salad with these fresh vegetables Agnes brought. Be sure to write down the recipe as we go. You’ll want to make it again. That I promise.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Heather smiled.
Chapter 11
Heather quickly settled into a routine around the farm. She would get up early and get the coffee ready before Elizabeth came into the kitchen. Whenever Elizabeth would plan out a meal, she would get Heather to write down exactly how it was made in her new floral notebook. Each night before bed, Heather would give her flowers fresh water and reread all the recipes she’d gathered.
To some it might seem like a small inconsequential thing. To her it was like she was gathering treasures to last a lifetime.
“Good morning.” Elizabeth hobbled into the kitchen.
“Good morning. I thought I’d make some eggs and bacon for breakfast this morning.” Heather handed her a cup of coffee.
“Not today. We don’t have time for that today.” Elizabeth sat down. “Toast and jam will have to do.”
Heather studied the calendar on the wall by the refrigerator. “I don’t see any appointments for today. And we turned on the irrigation for the flowers yesterday.”
“We have a different kind of appointment.” She sipped her coffee. “It’s Sunday. We have church today.”
Heather’s stomach sunk. That was the last place she wanted to go.
“Are you sure you feel up to it?” She opened the pantry door and pulled out the bread.
“If I’m up for cooking and looking after the farm, then I’m up for church.” Elizabeth sipped her coffee.
Heather sighed. She stuck two pieces of bread into the toaster and pushed the button down.
“The thing is… I don’t have anything to wear for church.” She clasped her hands in front of her.
“You don’t need anything fancy. You don’t need a dress or anything.”
She cringed and eased into the seat next to Elizabeth. “What I mean is, all I have are jeans and T-shirts. I don’t have anything suitable for church.”
“Jeans are fine. It’s a small church. Not fancy.” Elizabeth cocked her head. “Although I am surprised. A pretty young woman like you ought to have a nice blouse or shirt. For going out.”
“I’m more of a homebody.” She ducked her head.
Elizabeth grinned. “That’s okay. I think Maggie has some clothes in the closet from before she got married. I don’t even know if they are in style or not. I’m not much up on the latest fashion.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” It had been a while since she’d been to church. One of her foster parents had taken her a few times. But the priest was stern and said a lot of big words she didn’t understand. Plus, all the statues gave her the creeps.
The toaster popped the toasted bread up. Heather stood and gathered the jam and put the toast on plates. She pulled out some strawberries from the refrigerator and put them in a pretty cut glass bowl. She placed the fruit and toast on the table. She refilled the coffee cups before sitting down.
“Thank you, Heather. This looks really good.” Elizabeth stirred her coffee. “We’ll eat and then get ready for church. We can go in my truck so we won’t use up your gas.”
“The truck? Are you sure you can manage it? It seems pretty high.” Heather frowned.
“I have a small footstool in the kitchen closet. I’ll use that. I need to get used to using my own truck. It’s not like you’ll be here forever.” Elizabeth placed a swatch of blackberry jam on her toast.
Heather’s heart sunk a little. Those weren’t the words she wanted to hear. She needed to keep this job for as long as she could. She also knew she needed to be lining up her next job. Maybe church was the place she could do that.
As nervous as she was about attending, she knew it would give her the best opportunity to meet as many possible people she could work for after her job with Elizabeth was over.
Who knows, maybe she might find a lead on her next job.
Grabbing a piece of toast, she smiled to herself and smoothed a thick layer of jam.
Chapter 12
“I can’t go. I changed my mind.” Heather’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“I told you no one is going to care that you’re not wearing a dress.”
“But they will be caring that I’m wearing a paisley vest that’s two sizes too small.” She looked down at her nineties attire. She’d worn her best jeans, but Elizabeth had talked her into wearing a white puffy-sleeved shirt and pink and green paisley vest of her daughter’s to dress it up a bit. She’d even let Elizabeth talk her into wearing some platform sandals she pulled out of the back of the closet. She’d been too horrified at the vest to notice how bad the shoes really were.
“God doesn’t look at outward appearances. He looks at the heart.”
“Oh, I think He’s going to make an exception today. Besides, everyone is going to be looking at this hot mess.” She looked down at herself, horrified. “Now I know why Maggie left these behind,” she muttered.
“Elizabeth!” Agnes waved from her perch at the top step of the little white church.
“Let’s go before someone takes my seat.” Elizabeth opened the door and tried to get out.
“Wait! Before you fall.” Heather hurried out of the truck. She got to Elizabeth before she stepped out of the truck. “Let me get the stool.” She retrieved the stool from the back seat and set it down in front of Elizabeth’s door.
“I think it will be easier going down than trying to get me up.” Elizabeth snorted.
Heather supported her by the arm as she slowly climbed down.
Elizabeth sighed loudly.
“Well, you’re getting around better.” Agnes smiled at her friend. She looked over at Heather and frowned. “Who dressed you, honey?” She cut her eyes at Elizabeth.
Her shoulders slumped.
“
What’s with you two? I’m going to tell you like I told her. Outward appearances don’t matter to God…”
“In this case it does.” Agnes grimaced. “I haven’t seen fashion that bad since… well, the late eighties.”
“Ugh.” Heather buried her face in her hands. “I can’t walk inside like this.”
“Agnes, since when did you become such a fashionista?” Elizabeth scowled.
“Since my niece became a supermodel.” Agnes shrugged. “I try to keep up with the latest fashion.” She pointed a finger in Heather’s direction. “And that ain’t it.”
“Is that a paisley vest? I haven’t seen one of those since eighth grade.” A middle-aged woman cocked her head.
“Heather, this is Jana Giles. She’s the Sunday school teacher for young married couples. Jana, this is Heather Smith. She is here taking care of me while I recover from hip surgery.”
“Nice to meet you, Heather. Glad you are here taking such good care of Elizabeth. Walk in with me, Elizabeth. I need to ask you some questions about what I’m doing wrong with my hyacinths. Those suckers just won’t bloom for me.” Jana frowned.
“We’ll be along shortly.” Agnes gripped Heather’s arm. “I need to discuss something with Heather.”
When they were out of reach, Agnes tugged her toward her car.
“What did you want to talk about?” Heather looked around.
“Honey, Elizabeth is my best friend. But that woman has no fashion. I’m surprised you allowed her to talk you into wearing this.” She shook her head and opened the trunk of her car.
“It’s my fault. The only clothes I have are jeans and T-shirts. I told her I didn’t have any dressy clothes. She found these in the closet from her daughter.”
“Good Lord, child. Her daughter is in her forties. No one is wearing paisley vests with puffy-sleeved shirts.” Agnes shook her head. “I know you don’t want to upset Elizabeth and you are trying to do a good job. But that doesn’t mean you can’t voice your own opinion. Stand up for yourself.” Agnes looked back in the trunk and opened a box. She smiled.
“What’s this?”
“My niece sent me these when I asked her for donations for a silent auction we have coming up in the fall. They are designer clothes that have only been worn once.” Agnes pulled out a sparkly black top.
