Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [61]
The older woman looked uncomfortable. “Well, I ain’t saying it’s much. Not up to your usual, anyhow. But it’ll get her through.”
“I know Lori will love it,” Bridget said sincerely. “We’re hoping she’ll be home on Wednesday.”
“Well, at least we’ll be shed of them city folks by then,” Ida Mae said with a curt nod of satisfaction. “That woman called about fifty times. I finally just let that machine pick it up.”
“Thanks, Ida Mae.” The fatigue was starting to show in Bridget’s voice as she contemplated wading through all those telephone calls, hoping against hope that none of them was a last-minute change in the menu. She let her purse slide off her shoulder and propped herself up wearily against the foyer table. “Listen, I’m really going to need your help if we’re going to pull this thing off for tomorrow. Did you get a chance to look at the recipes I marked?”
“Already got the chicken thawing,” replied Ida Mae, “and the boy picked up the crab this morning. We got it under control.”
For a moment Bridget was so overwhelmed with gratitude that she couldn’t speak. Finally she managed a “thank you” on a single, exhaled breath. Then, hesitantly, “I don’t suppose you know why the yard smells like—”
“So, I spruced up the flower beds for you a little while I was at it,” Noah was saying as he and Lindsay came out of the sunroom. “And I started building that goat house Bridget wanted. The goat already chewed through the rope on the gate twice, but I got her back. Meantime I had an idea about that brochure you were talking about. I thought, what if instead of pictures we used a sketch of the house, maybe with some flowery things and wedding birds—you know, doves—on the front fold, all in black and white, to give it kind of a classy look. Then inside we could just use a repeat of the sketch, in miniature, to separate the paragraphs. If you don’t take up all that room with photographs you can use a single fold instead of a trifold brochure. Anyhow, I made a mock-up for you to look at.”
Lindsay drew an astonished breath, but before she could even speak he went on, proudly, “And I got the grapes fertilized for you this morning. Farley came over and helped. Don’t worry,” he assured her, “I called up Dominic to ask him what to use and he said chicken sh—I mean, manure, mixed with that fish stuff he left in the barrels in the barn would do the trick. It sure does stink though, doesn’t it? I figure ya’ll’d be tired after your party” he explained generously, “and no need for you to have to get out there and work on Sunday.”
Lindsay stopped and turned to look at him, and for a long moment she said nothing. Bridget straightened up slowly, holding her breath. Then Lindsay grasped Noah’s face in both hands, looked him hard in the eye, and kissed him soundly on the forehead.
“Thank you, Noah,” she said earnestly, “for taking the initiative. And you’re grounded for two weeks. School and work only.”
“Damn,” he swore, scowling fiercely.
“Nice try though,” Bridget told him, smiling. “Really nice. And the flower beds look terrific.”
“Also,” Lindsay added casually, “next time ask us before you take on a big job like the grape vines.”
“Yeah, I know.” Noah gave her a sly look. “Dominic said you asked him to supper Sunday after he finished with the grapes. But don’t worry. I said he should come on anyway.”
Bridget looked at Lindsay questioningly, and Lindsay patted Noah’s shoulder, perhaps a bit too firmly. “You’re a treasure, Noah. A real take-charge kind of guy. Now, how about taking a paintbrush and some white paint and touching up the arbor in the rose garden?”
He tossed her a salute and headed for the door. Ida Mae said, “I got cheese biscuits in the oven. I mixed in some chives like you said. I never heard of putting raspberry jam on cheese biscuits with ham, but I reckon you learn something new every day.”
She left for the kitchen, and Bridget watched her go, her expression softened