Mary realized they should have brought a dessert instead.
“Ray, Floyd, calm down!” Grace’s voice carried authority. The dogs stopped barking immediately. “They love company.”
Harper bent down to scratch their ears. “They’re gorgeous!”
Grace called to her husband.
“Joe, our guests are here! Come in for a bit.”
She turned to the girls.
“Heneverstops working.”
A trim man, about sixty years old, came out from the barn, wiping his hands on a cloth. He wore a baseball cap, thick denim shirt, Carhartt overalls, and work boots.
He took off his hat and tucked it under his arm. His forehead was starkly white compared to the rest of a face that had been hammered by years of sun and wind. He had big blue eyes, and the skin around them was evidence that he laughed easily. His salt-and-pepper hair was still thick, and the girls would later learn that Grace had to trim it every two weeks in their kitchen.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” he said, shaking their hands. “Come, come. Let’s get you inside—it’s chilly out here with that breeze.”
They started in, and Joe held Mary’s elbow.
“Careful, young lady. It’s muddy as heck around here. Well, it’s mostly mud.”
Mary stepped gingerly, trying to protect her boots.
The Taylors’ home was warm and inviting. The aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air—scents of roast beef, pepper, baked apples, and cinnamon.
They hung their coats in a crowded mudroom, everyone talking at once as they got to know each other.
“Staten Island. Brooklyn. Providence. I never met anyone from those places,” Joe said. “I’m afraid I’ve not traveled too far afield from this farm. It’s hard to get away.”
“I’d never leave if I got to live here.” Harper turned on the charm, and Dot gave her a grateful look. She wanted them to have a good time, and she was also interested in getting to know more people in the community so that she’d have better intel to send back to the insatiable Kitty Bell.
Grace led them into the family room. A large sofa and three recliners surrounded a big television screen. Iced teas were passed around along with a tray holding small bowls of mini pretzels, peanuts, and cheddar cheese Pringles. Harper sat on her hands to avoid snacking and ruining her dinner.
“How long have you lived here?” Dot asked Joe.
“All my life. I was born in Cedar Falls. Went to school with Grace and her younger sister, Mercy—the preacher’s daughters. You know what they say about dating one.” Joe winked.
He leaned back and crossed his wool-socked foot over his knee.
“I knew I wanted to marry Grace from the get-go. Thankfully, she did me the favor of becoming my wife, even though she knew I’d only ever be a farmer.”
Grace reached for Joe’s hand.
“Growing up next to the church, we didn’t farm ourselves. But we spent a lot of time at friends’ houses helping with chores. So, it wasn’t hard to convince me this would be a great life.”
“We raised three sons here,” Joe said. “The oldest, Mike, farms with us. He’s married to a great gal named Kelsey. She’s an art teacher at the middle school. They’ve given us our two grandkids.” He pointed to a framed photograph of two blond kids, a boy and a girl, sitting on top of a black pony with a white mane and a stripe down its nose. “They’re at their other grandparents’ tonight. We trade off Sunday supper with Kelsey’s parents.”
“And our younger two sons are twins. Fraternal but they look a lot alike. Neither of them is married yet, so they’ve not given us grandkids—just several heart attacks over the years,” Grace said. “One is a daredevil and served in the military. And the other one was on track to play professional hockey, but he broke his leg in college and decided to start his own business in town. They’re good boys.”
“It sounds like a pretty perfect family,” Dot said.
“Well, no life is perfect. But I wouldn’t want to live any other way.” Joe reached for some pretzels and sat back again. “Enough about us, tell us about you!”
AS THE GIRLStold Joe and Grace about how they became friends at NYU, they heard a car pull into the driveway.
“That’ll be the twins,” Grace said.