At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [45]
Beaming, Bridget turned toward the kitchen and saw Noah lurking near the stairs. “Oh, Noah,” she said, pulling him forward. “Come meet our company. Paul, this is Noah. We’ve spoken about him.”
Paul extended his hand gravely. “A pleasure to meet you, young man.”
Noah regarded him suspiciously, but did not shake his hand. “What kind of car is that?” he demanded.
Paul retrieved his hand graciously. “It’s a hybrid.”
He looked skeptical. “It didn’t make no noise when you drove up.”
“That’s because it runs on battery power.”
Noah grunted. “Couldn’t afford a real car, huh?”
Paul’s eyebrows shot up.
Lindsay said quickly, “Noah, come meet Derrick. Derrick owns an art gallery in Baltimore.”
Noah regarded him with interest. “Oh yeah? Any money in that?”
Derrick replied, deadpan, “I do all right.”
Noah jerked his head toward Paul. “Maybe you could buy your friend a real car.”
By now Cici was beginning to catch on to Noah’s sense of humor. “Very cute,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind, would you bring the luggage in from the car? And you can let Rebel out of the barn, too.”
“Okay.” But he looked at Derrick curiously. “You got any of her paintings hanging in your gallery?”
Derrick looked at Lindsay in astonishment. “Are you producing? For display? You never said a word!”
“No, not really,” she protested. “I’m a long way from having anything to show. Come on, let’s see the rest of the house. Noah, the luggage?”
Before lunch, Paul and Derrick endeared themselves to everyone by distributing gifts. For Cici, Bridget, and Lindsay, spa baskets from Nordstrom. For Ida Mae, perfume, and even though she grumbled that she didn’t “have no use for such nonsense” she could not quite hide her embarrassed pleasure over the gift, and she smelled suspiciously sweet at lunch. For Lori they brought a Prada bag—which Paul, as the author of the popular syndicated “In Style” column for the Washington Post, had received gratis (“ ‘Swag,’ as it’s known in the business, sweetie,” he explained)—and it made Lori squeal with delight. They presented Noah with an iPod Shuffle, preloaded with what the sales clerk assured them were the most popular tunes downloaded by teenage boys. And though Noah tried to be cool about it, it was clear the two of them had earned a place in his esteem very few others would ever approach.
Lindsay slipped her arm through Paul’s and said softly, “That was sweet of you guys.”
Paul patted her hand. “We know how hard it is for you to get nice things here at the ends of the earth.”
And Derrick, smiling as he watched Lori trying to show Noah how to work the player, added, “Besides, we missed Christmas, didn’t we?”
They sat at the dining room table, at Ida Mae’s insistence, which was dressed with crisp white linen and ironed napkins. A fire crackled in the fireplace and spring blossoms decorated the table. “This reminds me of that B&B in Vermont we stopped at in ninety-two, remember?” Derrick said to Paul. “On our way to Lake Placid?”
“Except the food wasn’t as good,” Paul said as Ida Mae set a steaming bowl of stew before him.
“Ida Mae, please, you don’t have to wait on us,” Bridget insisted.
And Lori said triumphantly, “See I told you a B&B was a good idea.”
“We usually only eat lunch in the dining room on Sundays,” Noah interjected. “Wouldn’t want you to think we lived this fancy every day.”
“I’m sure there’s no danger of that,” Cici assured him, passing the bread basket. “But it’s nice to be a little fancy for company.”
“And I want you to know we do appreciate it,” Paul said, and raised his glass. “To our lovely hostesses.”
“Hear, hear,” agreed Paul and saluted them with his glass of iced tea.
“Sorry there’s no wine,” Lori said, sotto voce, glancing over her shoulder. “But Ida Mae doesn’t approve of drinking before five o’clock. She barely approves of it after five o’clock.”
Derrick cleared his throat. “Speaking of wine . . .”
Cici raised her hand to interrupt. “Let’s enjoy our lunch. There’s plenty of time for business afterward.”
Derrick obligingly changed the subject. “Well, then. What is this you