Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [13]
“Good heavens, what are they saying?”
“Nice things. How much they loved the article, and how beautiful our place looks, and how they wish they could live like this...”
Cici choked on a laugh.
“And,” insisted Bridget a little defensively, “twelve requests for information on gift baskets!”
“Say that’s great!” Lindsay lifted her glass to her.
And Cici added, impressed, “You go, girl. At thirty-six dollars a pop, that’s not exactly chicken feed, you know. ”
Bridget frowned a little, disconcerted. “Actually it is. Just about enough to keep the chickens in that organic feed they like through the summer.”
“Ah, well. Easy come, easy go.”
They were quiet for a while, listening to the distant muffled clucking of the chickens as they settled into their roosts in the coop behind the house, a single ferocious volley of barking from the border collie, Rebel, the soft baaing of the sheep in the meadow as they, too, settled down for the night. The sky was streaked with bruised red clouds and slashes of gold.
As they watched, a long-legged deer picked his way across the lawn, nibbling at grasses and budding flowers, accompanied by the soft clanging of the miniature cowbell that hung around his neck. Bambi had followed Lindsay home from a walk as a fawn, been adopted as a pet by Noah—who, as a country boy, should have known better—and made Ladybug Farm his home. They had tried building pens and fences for him to keep him safe from eager hunters, but as he reached maturity he simply leapt over them. It was Noah who had come up with the idea of the cowbell, to alert hunters to the fact that the deer was not ordinary prey. Now they fenced their flowers and their crops, and the deer roamed free.
Lindsay asked, “Are we really going to do this wedding thing?”
“I think it could be fun,” Bridget said.
“You think everything is fun.”
Cici was more thoughtful. “It’s a lot of money. I don’t see how we can turn it down.”
“I know.” Lindsay’s enthusiasm, if it existed at all, was muted. “I just don’t know how I feel about all those Washington society types roaming around all over the place.”
Bridget stifled a laugh. “Some of those ‘Washington society types’ are our best friends! Not to mention my own son.”
“You know what I mean.” Lindsay was unmoved. “And just because Kevin works in DC doesn’t make him one of them. Not yet, anyway.”
“Good to know. You used to date one or two of those Washington society types, if I recall,” Bridget reminded her.
“Which is why I can speak with authority on how smarmy they can be.”
“Smarmy,” Bridget repeated thoughtfully. “There’s a word I haven’t heard in a while.”
Cici lowered her voice a fraction so as not to be overheard from the rooms inside. “You know Noah’s scholarship is only for one year. And tuition at John Adams is not exactly cheap.”
“Not to mention college,” Lindsay added unhappily. She sipped her wine. “Believe me, I haven’t overlooked that. Whoever thought I’d be worrying about college tuition at my age?”
Bridget said, “We promised his mother we’d take care of him.”
Lindsay said firmly, “I’d make sure Noah went to college with or without that promise. He has too much potential to waste.”
Cici said, “And if you didn’t, Bridget and I would.”
Bridget added simply, “He’s one of the family now.” And Lindsay smiled gratefully at both of them.
Cici asked Lindsay, “Have you heard from her since Christmas?”
There was no need to specify to whom she was referring. Noah’s mother, Mandy Cormier, had come into their lives only last year, but hardly a day passed that they did not think of her. She had given up her son when he was only a toddler, believing him to be safe in the care of his grandmother. But the grandmother died unexpectedly, and Noah had never known his mother was alive. By the time Mandy found her son again, he was well on his way to becoming a full-time member of the Ladybug Farm household, and Mandy herself was suffering