by Janet Dailey
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. “Like what?”
Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Like how much you and Zach have earned this week.”
Dylan lost the sarcastic tone, dropped his arms to his sides, and adopted an innocent expression. Zach joined him, edging over to Dylan’s side and smiling angelically up at Mitch.
Kristen bit back a laugh. For the past weeks, the boys had worked hard every Friday after school and on the weekends. They had followed Mitch’s every direction to the letter in the fields, had helped Kristen and Emmy till the small vegetable garden behind the house without complaint and had picked bucket after bucket of ripe strawberries, even when buyers had been few and far between.
At first, Dylan had been slow to warm up to Zach, as he’d still been resentful about Zach’s comments to Emmy. But after an apology from Zach and several hours of working together, they had begun chatting about video games during their downtime, then had progressed to hitting baseballs in the backyard and shooting water guns on hot afternoons. The sad look in Dylan’s eyes was less apparent now, and he smiled more often.
“We’ve done good, haven’t we?” Dylan asked.
Mitch smiled. “You’ve both done very well. Enough to earn twice this week what you earned last week.” He ruffled Dylan’s hair. “I’m proud of you both.”
Dylan and Zach lit up, their chins lifting and chests swelling.
“And I think you deserve a break,” Mitch added. “Especially seeing as how today was your last day of school and your summer vacation has officially started. So feel free to knock off for a while and have some fun.”
“Thanks, Mr. Mitch,” Zach said.
Grinning, the boys dropped the broom and dustpan, took off down the front porch steps, then ran around the house toward the backyard.
“What I wouldn’t give for a bit of those boys’ energy,” Emmy said from the other side of the porch.
Kristen smiled. After the scene in town two weeks ago, Emmy had been taking it extra easy lately, leaving the field work to Kristen and Mitch and staying closer to the house. Twice during evening meals she’d seemed confused, but after a good night’s rest, she’d bounced back each morning. She’d lost her temper only once, and her mood seemed to have improved.
Maybe that was what Emmy had needed all along—extra rest, some help, and time to get back to her old self again. And with Mitch staying, she was bound to get even better.
Emmy wrung out the wet towel she’d used to wipe down the windows, did the same with Sadie’s, then stepped back and looked around the porch. “It turned out gorgeous. Looks better than the day me and Joe first stepped foot on it.” Her eyes glistened as she smiled at them. “Thank you both so much.”
“We were happy to do it,” Kristen said, pushing to her feet.
“All it needs is some new furniture.” Mitch glanced at Emmy. “What do you think about a couple new rocking chairs and maybe a swing?”
Sadie squealed and clapped her hands together. “Can we, Nana?”
Emmy nodded. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Smiling, Sadie skipped over to Kristen, her long braid flapping behind her. “Can we get a white one, Ms. Kristen? With squishy cushions?” She patted Kristen’s leg. “Like the one at Ms. Ruth Ann’s?”
Kristen looked down, and her spirits rose even higher as she studied Sadie’s impish grin and bright blue eyes. After the incident in town, Sadie had taken up trailing after her in the afternoons. Though Sadie still kept a good foot of empty space between them, she’d walked with Kristen in the corn and soybean fields as she checked for pests, weeds, and diseases, watching as Kristen measured growth and asking questions without hesitance or reservation.
And every Saturday morning, Kristen admitted reluctantly, she’d caught herself listening eagerly for the soft telltale footfalls that signaled Sadie was close behind, and she lingered longer over her morning coffee when the little girl slept late, giving her extra time to catch up to her before she left for the fields.
It was an odd mix of new feelings—this eagerness for Sadie’s presence but a nagging need to still maintain some distance.
“Cushions would be a nice touch.” Kristen smiled at Sadie, then glanced at Mitch. “Is there a store in town that sells them?”
Mitch nodded. “Jake’s Hardware, probably. They have rocking chairs, too. We could make the drive in tomorrow morning, if you’re up to it.”
“I’d love to.” Kristen glanced at Emmy. “I have it on good authority that Saturday is the perfect day to take a trip to town and break in the summer.”
Emmy laughed. “If you’re going to do it right, don’t forget to start at the Dutch Bakery and get a—”
“Blueberry and cream cheese sweet roll,” Kristen said, finishing for Emmy, a warm feeling of excitement bubbling within her. One she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Then go to Essie’s Odds and Ends to browse the antiques. Will you go with us, Emmy?”
Emmy remained quiet for a moment, her smile fading slightly. “No. I’ve grown pretty fond of sleeping in on the weekends, thanks to the two of you spoiling me.” She glanced between them, her smile returning full force and a mischievous sparkle brightening her eyes. “I’ll stay here with the kids so y’all can have a relaxing morning and some privacy for a change.”
Kristen’s face burned. She ducked her head and shot a look at Mitch, then made a face when he laughed and shrugged. They’d grown closer lately, but she’d thought they’d done a pretty good job of hiding it—especially around Emmy and the children.
Despite her best intentions to maintain a hard dividing line between her professional and personal life, the two had meshed after her night on the porch with Mitch. And how could they not? The hurt, vulnerable look in his eyes that night had called to something deep inside her. A strong urge to comfort, support, and . . . love?
Love. She repeated the word in her head, turning it over, inspecting the way the syllable conjured up a sweet throb in her middle that pulsated up to her chest as she studied Mitch’s familiar features.
“Tomorrow morning it is, then.” Mitch held her gaze, his blue eyes gentle and warm.
Kristen nodded slowly, that pleasant feeling inside her intensifying. Heaven, indeed.
The low rumble of an engine and the swish of tires sounded up the dirt driveway. A small sedan rounded the circular end of the drive, then drew to a stop in front of the house.
“Ruth Ann.” Emmy walked to the top porch step, shifting the majority of her weight to her good knee. “First time she’s driven up this driveway in at least ten years. Figures she’d show up now, when we’re having such a good day.”
“Emmy.” Mitch’s voice held an admonishing note. “Keep an open mind, all right? Maybe she’s just stopping by for a friendly visit.”
“Hogwash.” Emmy scowled. “The woman’s here to irritate me with some inane thing.” Her frown deepened as Ruth Ann exited the car, shut the door, and smoothed a hand over her full white skirt. “She called me a devil.”
“Well”—Mitch lifted his shoulders—“you’ve called her worse things, Emmy.”
She looked up, brow wrinkling as she considered it, then blew out a breath. “I suppose.”
Ruth Ann walked across the front lawn, made her way to the lowest porch step and smiled. “Good afternoon, everyone.” She tilted her head back, and eyes widening, she surveyed the new railings, the decorative balusters, and the pristine Gothic trim. Her mouth formed into a small O. “Lee told me you were renovating the place, but he didn’t mention how wonderful it was turning out.” Her gaze swept over Mitch, Kristen, and Sadie, then came to rest on Emmy. “It’s beautiful, Emmy. Stunning, really.”
Emmy crossed her arms. “Whatcha want?”
Ruth Ann spread her manicured hands. “To pay my neighbor a visit.”
“Why? It’s been a month of Sundays since you stepped foot on my land, and I can’t recall you ever once paying me a so-called neighborly visit since me and Joe moved in.”
Ruth Ann’s chest lifted on a deep inhale, and she raised her brows. “Well, I guess I just . . . missed your company.”
“Missed my—” Emmy drew back and made a face. “You heard about what happened in town a couple weeks ago, didn’t you?”
Ruth Ann looked away, shifting from one high heel to the other and picking at a pleat on her yellow blouse. “I don’t know to what you’re referring.”
Emmy narrowed her eyes. “Oh, yes you do. You heard about my meltdown and decided to come over here to gloat, didn’t you?” She motioned with her hand when Ruth Ann didn’t respond. “Didn’t you?”
“Oh, all right.” Eyes flashing, Ruth Ann straightened. “I heard about what happened, but I didn’t come here to gloat. I came to buy strawberries for shortcakes, and I brought the other makings for them in hopes that you’d consider putting a few together with me for the children.” Her expression softened. “Like we used to do with my mom after getting out of school for the summer. Those were good memories, Emmy.”
Emmy stared, her shoulders relaxing. “Good memories?”
“Yes. You and I made a lot of them during our younger years.” Ruth Ann’s voice shook. “Ones I found myself wanting to revisit lately, especially after I heard . . .” She shrugged, her chin trembling slightly as she shot a glance at Mitch. “That is, I thought it might help to have an old friend around. And I hoped we could come to a truce, if you’re willing?”
Sadie brushed past Kristen and tugged Emmy’s short sleeve. In a whisper filled with hope, she said, “I like strawberry shortcake, Nana.”
Emmy glanced at Sadie, then looked over her shoulder at Kristen.
“It’s a hot afternoon,” Kristen said softly. “Strawberry shortcake topped with chilled whipped cream would hit the spot for me, too.”
Emmy faced Ruth Ann again. “You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t want pity.”
Ruth Ann smiled. “Good. Because strawberry shortcake and small talk’s all I’m offering.” With that, she spun around, went back to her car, and opened the trunk.
Kristen walked down the steps, squeezing Emmy’s arm as she passed and saying to Sadie, “Let’s give Ms. Ruth Ann a hand, okay?”
They did, Kristen lifting the largest box, packed with canisters of flour, sugar, and baking powder, and Sadie carrying a small box containing sticks of butter and tubs of whipped cream. Mitch carried in bowls and a large blender, then excused himself to round up the boys and check the fields.
Over the next couple of hours, Emmy, Ruth Ann, Kristen, and Sadie sliced strawberries, whipped up a sweet berry mixture, kneaded and baked biscuit dough, then began assembling individual shortcakes.
Emmy eyed Ruth Ann’s hands as she dolloped generous heaps of fluffy whipped cream atop six strawberry-slathered biscuits. “You’ve slapped too much whipped cream on that batch.”
Ruth Ann cocked an eyebrow and sucked a speck of cream off the tip of her finger. “No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did. They’re gonna spurt out all over the place when someone takes a bite of ’em.”
Ruth Ann shrugged. “So be it. Besides, some people like the whipped cream best.”
“It’s too much. We’ll have to mix more topping to finish the others.”
Ruth Ann huffed. “Why must you always make everything into an argument?”
“I’m not arguing. Everyone with good sense knows you stack equal portions of cream and strawberries to balance things out.”
Wincing, Kristen set down the large spoon she was using to spread berry mixture on the biscuits and glanced at Sadie. The little girl stood on a step stool at the other end of the kitchen counter, wide eyes moving from Emmy to Ruth Ann and back.
“Emmy,” Kristen said, “it’s no trouble to make more topping.”
“It is, too.” Glaring, Emmy pointed a cream-covered spatula at Ruth Ann. “She’s just doing it to get my goat.”
Ruth Ann propped her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous, Emmy. And it’s just like you, always having to have the last word on everything.” Her face reddened. “Just like you had to have Joe.”
“Uh-oh, here we go.” Emmy’s voice hardened. “I knew you’d get on that before you left. You’re just gonna hold on to that until I croak, aren’t you?”
“You’re darned ri—”
“Don’t worry, Nana.” Sadie grabbed a bag of sugar, dumped it into a big bowl of whipped cream, then grabbed a handheld mixer. “I’ll make more for you.”
Kristen sprang to action. “Sadie, don’t!”
Before Kristen could reach her, Sadie flipped the mixer on high, shoved it into the bowl, and flung clumps of whipped cream and sugar all over the kitchen, herself... and Emmy and Ruth Ann. They were covered in it from the tops of their gray heads to their waists.
Kristen, who’d managed to duck beneath the spray of whipped cream, rose from her crouched position and cut off the mixer. She watched, frozen in place, as a particularly slimy glob slid off Ruth Ann’s nose and plopped onto her splattered blouse. “I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Ruth Ann.”
Shoulders shaking, Ruth Ann returned Emmy’s stare across the table; then both women burst out laughing. Whipped cream fell from their faces onto their clothes and the table as they doubled over and reached out to take each other’s hands.
“That’s what we get for acting like two foolish children,” Ruth Ann howled between bouts of laughter, squeezing Emmy’s hands and trying to catch her breath. “Just look at us. I doubt he’d want either of us now.”
“No, I don’t think he would.” Emmy’s laughter trailed away. “Especially considering the way I’ve been treating you.” She released Ruth Ann’s hands and limped around the table, wiping her face. “Here you are, trying to be a friend to me again, and I start harping away.”
“You’ve harped for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always loved you anyway.” Ruth Ann grew silent, then reached out and squeezed Emmy’s arms. “What do you say we let Joe rest for a while? And let it just be you and me again? Like it used to be?”
Emmy nodded slowly and whispered, “Like it used to be.”
Kristen’s eyes blurred as the two women hugged. She blinked hard, then cleared her throat and helped Sadie down from the step stool. “Sadie, why don’t you go wash your face? I’ll clean up in here.”
Emmy released Ruth Ann. “Excuse me, Ruth Ann. I need to give Sadie a hand. Then we’ll have supper. You’re welcome to join us.”
Ruth Ann smiled. “I’d love to.”
When Emmy left, grinning with satisfaction, Kristen grabbed a roll of paper towels, handed a few to Ruth Ann to clean her face, and began wiping down the counter and the table. The afternoon sun had dipped, and it glinted through the kitchen windows, casting long shadows on the walls. Outside the rhythmic rattle of cicadas echoed around the house.
“Am I too late?”
Kristen’s hand stilled against the table. “Too late for what?”
“For Emmy. How is she?” Ruth Ann had cleaned the whipped cream from her face, but a tear rolled down each cheek. “I heard her episode in town was bad.”
“It was, but everyone’s entitled to a rough day now and then.” Kristen resumed wiping up the whipped cream. “Mitch and I have taken on the majority of the work lately, and since she’s been resting, she’s been much better.” She steadied her voice, despite the dread unfurling in her veins. “She’s going to get well. It’ll just take some time.”
It was silent for a minute save for the squeak of the damp paper towel that Kristen was using to scrub the countertop; then Ruth Ann spoke.
“You say that with conviction, but I don’t see it here.” She touched Kristen’s temple, her fingertip resting against the corner of her eye. “You’ve felt that thin line between heaven and hell, too, haven’t you?”
Kristen froze, then straightened. “What?”
Ruth Ann wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “When my husband fell ill with pneumonia, the doctors told me he was so weak, he didn’t have long. They s
aid I should prepare, but I didn’t. Instead, I prayed—I prayed so hard—and tried to picture him well. Tried to see him getting out of that bed and us walking hand in hand out of that hospital together. That would’ve been my heaven, had he taken a breath in the opposite direction.” A fresh sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. “But all I felt was this strange fear knot in my stomach and tighten around my heart. I hoped and prayed, even when I knew I had absolutely no control and could feel what was coming.”
Kristen shook her head, unable to speak.
Ruth Ann studied her, then said, “My faith is just as strong as Emmy’s, but my eyes are open. I still pray, but I also face reality. That’s why I came today. Mitch told me a while back that Emmy could use a friend when things started to go bad.” She bit her lip. “But it wasn’t until I heard about what happened that I realized how bad off she really was. And how little time might be left to make amends.”
Kristen stiffened. “Emmy will get better. Just like Hart’s Hollow. We’re going to see to it.”
Ruth Ann studied her, a sad look of pity crossing her expression. “I hope you’re right. I really do.”
CHAPTER 9
The Dutch Restaurant’s blueberry and cream cheese rolls had always been sweet, but with Kristen’s flirtatious smile and deep green eyes facing Mitch from the other side of the booth, they tasted all the sweeter to him.
“Careful.” Laughing, he reached across the table and wiped a sticky spot of icing from her chin. “It’s running away from you.”
She covered her mouth and giggled while she finished chewing. “Emmy was right. These are wonderful.”
“She used to bring me and Carrie here every weekend when we were kids. I’d put away five or six of them on a good day.” He nudged a small plate with one remaining decadent baked treat toward her. “Have another.”
“Oh, no.” She held up a hand. “Thank you. I’ve already had two, and if I eat another bite, you’ll have to roll me out of here.”
“Coffee, then,” he urged, politely getting the waitress’s attention. “At least one more cup before we head to the hardware store for the porch swing?”
