Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [44]
A breeze from the open door tugged a strand of hair across Lindsay’s cheek and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “That’s right. I forget sometimes that you probably know more about this place than we do. I’d love to hear more about what it was like when you were a boy here.”
He smiled. “I’d love to tell you.”
And then he startled her by stepping close to her, and lifting his thumb to her cheek, wiping it gently. Surprise must have flared in her eyes, because he looked embarrassed as he explained with a small gesture, “You had a little paint...”
“Oh.” Lindsay touched her cheek, and laughed. “Can’t imagine how that happened.” She turned to take a paper towel from the work counter and wiped her hands, then, for good measure, her face again. “We should have you over one night for dinner. I know everyone would love to hear your stories.” And then she added, with a cautionary lift of her finger. “After the wedding, of course.”
He smiled. “After the wedding,” he assured her. He hesitated, and then seemed to come to some decision. “Actually,” he began, “I was thinking—”
“Lindsay are you there?”
Cici caught the doorframe with her hand as she swung by. The look of disappointment on Dominic’s face was gone in an instant, and his customary easy smile was back in place as he turned to greet Cici.
“Oh, hi, Dominic,” Cici said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I stopped at the back door but you were on the phone,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you the ground is dry enough to work so we should probably get the vines fertilized by the weekend.”
“Not this weekend!” Cici and Lindsay said together, and Cici explained, “We’ve got some people coming out Saturday.”
“The wedding thing,” Lindsay added, tossing the paper towel into the trash.
He scratched his head thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t put it off much longer. If you don’t mind working Sunday, I could come out after church and help you out.”
“That would be terrific,” Lindsay said gratefully.
“Thanks, Dominic,” Cici added. “And plan to stay for supper, okay?”
Dominic glanced at Lindsay. “That would be real nice. Thank you.”
He lifted a friendly hand to Cici, and then paused to nod to Lindsay before resuming his stride toward his pickup.
Cici watched him go with an appreciative smile. “Now there,” she declared, “is one of the good ones.”
“No doubt about it,” Lindsay agreed, but her expression was a little distracted. “Do you think he ... ?”
She broke off, and Cici turned to her curiously. “What?”
Lindsay gave an impatient shake of her head. “Nothing. I probably imagined it, that’s all. What do you need?”
“Oh.” Cici straightened up, the customary harried and unhappy expression of the past week returning to her face. “Photographs,” she said. “You know, for Catherine’s brochure?”
Lindsay rolled her eyes.
“Now she’s decided to hire a graphic designer, and she wants me to e-mail her pictures of the house and garden, along with a list of nearby hotels with prices and directions...”
Lindsay choked on a laugh. “Hotels?” she repeated. “Plural? And nearby?”
Cici shrugged, even as she tried not to grin. “I said I’d do my best,” she said. “Anyway she wants us to send the photos, the hotel info, and a brief history and description of the house and gardens...”
Lindsay gave a long-suffering sigh and hoisted the trash bag. “I don’t suppose she gave you any idea of what, exactly, she wanted photographed.”
“As a matter of fact I have a list.” Cici dug into her back pocket.
And that was when they heard Bridget scream.
What the Misses North-Dere did not understand was that Ladybug Farm was a working farm, with at least a hundred tasks that demanded the attention of its proprietresses every day. Those tasks were far more urgent than whether or not sugared almonds or monogrammed chocolates were served with the coffee. And furthermore, with every e-mail, every phone call, and every menu change, the “heavy hors d‘oeuvres” that were initially discussed were morphing into something very closely resembling a sit-down