Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [82]
“What is all this stuff?” Cici asked, indicating the champagne glasses, ribbons, and flowers.
“Paul brought it, for the rehearsal dinner. Each place setting will get a champagne glass decorated with flowers and ribbons and an apricot floating candle. That way we don’t even need a centerpiece.”
“Perfect. Do you want us to put flowers and ribbons on champagne glasses, or slice strawberries?”
“Strawberries,” ordered Bridget, typing. “I’m IMing with Derrick.”
“Tell him to get his sorry ass out here this minute,” said Lindsay “and make up with Paul.”
“Tell him I could strangle him for not telling us he was in trouble,” Cici added. “And I’ll never forgive him if he breaks Paul’s heart. Or mine.”
Bridget@LadybugFarmLadies: Lindsay and Cici send their love.
Derrick@artsolo: This is not my fault you know. He wants me to sell the gallery. He wants to move to the country!
Bridget looked up from the keyboard. “Paul wants to move to the country.”
Lindsay slid into a chair at the table beside her. “Wow.”
Cici said, “I didn’t think he was serious.”
Bridget@LadybugFarmLadies: So what’s wrong with that? We’re in the country!
Derrick@artsolo: I have to go. Customers.
Bridget logged off, closed the laptop, and went to the sink to scrape the burned lemon goo out of the pan.
“You know,” Cici said, “we can’t get involved in this.” She removed a big yellow bowl filled with strawberries from the refrigerator. “They’re grown-up people, and we have problems of our own. And I hope these are not all of the strawberries.”
“It’s okay. I just need them hulled and sliced. I think that will give me enough for about a gallon of jam, and I can use the ones in the freezer for the scones and the balsamic-strawberry salad dressing. As soon as Noah gets home from school I’ll put him to work picking cherries for the cherry wine jam and the cherry conserve for the turkey.”
Cici put an empty bowl and a knife on the table and sat down beside Lindsay. As Cici pulled off the leaves and stems, Lindsay sliced the berries into a bowl.
“It’s hard,” Lindsay said, “to see someone you care about making a huge mistake.” She looked pointedly at Cici. “What did Richard want?”
Bridget turned to look at Cici, filling the pan with soapy water. “Richard? Was that him on the phone?”
Even as she said the word, the phone rang again. They all tensed, but it was answered midway through the second ring from the office. They relaxed.
“He wants to buy a horse farm in Virginia,” Cici said.
“Whatever for?” Bridget demanded, horrified.
And Lindsay added, “Richard doesn’t even know how to ride a horse, does he?”
Cici took a bite of a strawberry. “Who knows? I think he’s heard Lori talk about this place so much that he’s built up some kind of fantasy in his head about life as a gentleman farmer.”
Bridget snorted with laughter. “A couple of days around here would cure him of that.”
Lindsay raised a warning hand. “That is not an invitation.”
“Don’t eat the strawberries,” Bridget admonished sharply as Lindsay started to pop a slice into her mouth. “I need every one of them.” She set a bowl of lemons and a tall measuring cup in front of Lindsay. “Two cups of juice,” she instructed.
Lindsay regarded the lemons skeptically. “Are these local?”
The phone rang again, but only once. Bridget smiled blissfully. “I love having Paul here.”
“Which is another reason why we shouldn’t interfere in things that are none of our business.”
They heard the clump of crutches outside the kitchen and Cici leaned forward quickly. “Don’t say anything to Lori about—you know,” she said in an undertone, and tried to look casual as Lori came into the room.
“If you mean about you and Dad,” Lori said, “that’s like the worst-kept secret in the world. And I just want to go on record as saying that if you two get back together I’m divorcing both of you.”
Cici looked chagrined, Lindsay smothered a laugh, and Lori made her way over to the refrigerator. “I posted an entry on your blog this morning,” Lori said to Bridget. “I just looked up some