Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [84]
“I, um, thank you,” Bridget said. Her voice was weaker than she intended. And as he climbed into the driver’s seat, she called after him, “And thank you for the nice goat!”
She carried two buckets of cherries into the kitchen when she returned, still feeling a little stunned. “Farley brought us twenty-five gallons of cherries from his trees.”
“Good heavens!” Lindsay exclaimed. “That’s a lot, when you’re talking about cherries.”
“Ida Mae is right,” Lori said. “We’ll be pitting them for the rest of our natural lives.”
“Sounds like a perfect job for someone who needs to spend her days sitting down,” Cici said. She started toward the door to bring in more cherries.
“And he asked me out,” Bridget said.
Cici stopped with her hand on the door and turned to look at her. Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Who did?”
“Farley.” Bridget took down a colander and started transferring cherries to it.
Cici and Lindsay struggled to hide smiles, and Ida Mae took the colander from Bridget and began picking out the leaves.
Lindsay cleared her throat, trying not to giggle. “So. What did you say?”
“What could I say?” She turned to them, hands braced against the counter, her expression dismayed. “He’s Farley.”
Lori said defensively, “I like Farley. He’s always been more than nice to me. And he’s not that bad looking, if you can get around the tobacco.”
The telephone rang. Paul picked it up in the next room.
“I think he’s my secret admirer,” Bridget confessed uncomfortably.
“No way. He doesn’t have a computer,” Lori pointed out.
“But his sister the real estate agent does,” Cici said. “And didn’t you say she reads your blog?”
Bridget said, “That would explain how he knew about the goat.”
“The goat is Farley’s?”
She nodded.
“Does that mean we can send him a bill for the chocolates?” Cici lost her battle with a grin.
“The man just picked twenty-five gallons of cherries and gave them to us for free,” Lori chided, her frown accusatory. “You’re just being mean.”
Paul came around the corner. “Are those fresh cherries?” He plucked one from the colander, and Ida Mae slapped at his hand. “You ladies do in fact live in paradise. Telephone for you, Lindsay.”
Lindsay groaned. “None of the North-Dere crowd, my dear,” he assured her. “It’s someone from Richmond.”
When Paul and Cici returned from bringing in the rest of the cherries, Lindsay was sitting at the kitchen table, and neither she nor Lori were smiling. Bridget’s hand rested on Lindsay’s shoulder, and even Ida Mae had stopped working, looking at the group at the table with a helpless frown.
Cici hoisted her bucket of cherries to the counter and came to them quickly. “What’s wrong?” she demanded.
Paul added, concerned, “That can’t have been good news.”
Lindsay looked up at them, tried to smile, and failed. “No,” she said wanly. “It wasn’t.”
14
Love Letters
They were all sitting at the kitchen table when Noah came in an hour later, the saddlebags from his motorcycle flung over one shoulder, his tie stuffed into his back pocket. Because Ida Mae refused to have idle hands in her kitchen, she had put a bowl of cherries and a cherry pitter before each person. They were making steady, though desultory progress removing the stones from the cherries. Everyone looked up when Noah came in.
“You’re home early,” Bridget said.
“Last day of school.” He dumped his saddlebags on the counter and went to the refrigerator. “Nobody stays all day. Guess we’re having cherry pie for supper, huh?”
Cici said, “Noah, come sit down for a minute.”
He turned from the refrigerator, empty-handed, and regarded them all suspiciously. Paul stood up and handed Lori her crutches. “Come on, sweetie, help me out in the office, will you?”
Lori glanced at Noah, once, then avoided his eyes as she concentrated on getting her crutches under her and following Paul. Ida Mae took Noah’s saddlebags and left the room. Noah came reluctantly to the table where the three women sat with their hands folded atop its surface, and sat