6

WE’RE HAVING A CHURCH PICNIC the Saturday before Labor Day. Will you bring Perla?”

Mom kneaded bread while Ella pretended to pay attention. Like she was going to learn to make bread. What Ella was really itching to do was be alone so she could work on a quilt hanging she’d started, one that depicted the church. She couldn’t get the angle of the building right. She wanted viewers to feel as though they were looking up at the church even if the piece hung at eye level. Her perspective was off, and she longed to work on it.

“Did you hear me, Ella?”

“Yes, of course I’ll bring Gran. Will it be the usual covered dish kind of thing?”

“It will, with a wiener roast, plenty of watermelon, and toasted marshmallows. I plan to take deviled eggs. Make sure your grandmother knows she’s not expected to bring anything.”

“Maybe I should bring something?” Ella had never been much of a cook, but she had the feeling her grandmother would consider it an unspeakable faux pas to arrive at the picnic empty-handed.

“It’s not necessary. We always have too much left over. Instead of bringing something, you might think about bringing someone.”

Ella wrinkled her brow. “I am. Grandma.”

Mom blew a wisp of hair off her forehead. “I was thinking of someone like that handsome Mark you dated for so long. I actually had a card from him the other day.” She darted a look at Ella, then went back to her bread in a way that was altogether too casual. “He wrote to say how much he enjoyed that fried chicken I made the time your father and I came down to your apartment and he joined us for dinner.” Another glance. “He also mentioned how much he regretted letting you go.”

Ella wondered if it were possible to feel your blood pressure rise. “He wrote to you?”

“Yes, such a thoughtful young man. I always liked him.”

“That’s because you didn’t really know him. I didn’t know him for that matter, and as soon as I got to know him that was the end of that.”

Ella was tempted to tell her mother how Mark had lied his way into his law firm at the expense of Chad . . . whatever his name was. She could also tell her about those few times when Mark’s anger had surfaced in some really ugly ways.

No. There was no reason to rehash all that. She was done with Mark and that was all that mattered.

But maybe Mom wasn’t quite done with him. “Sweetheart, I can appreciate that Mark might not be perfect, but there’s nothing wrong with marrying someone who can take care of you. I suspect he has a bright future ahead of him, and you could be quite comfortable without having to worry about your trust fund running out. Your grandparents weren’t that well-off.”

Ella stiffened. Mom almost never talked about the trust fund Grandma and Grandpa Hoffman had set up for Will and Ella. In fact, she almost never talked about her parents, both of whom died while Ella was still very young. This was no casual conversation. Mom was serious.

“Your art is beautiful, but I don’t suppose you can make a living at it—not without that money set aside.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Of course you are. But marrying well wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Ella felt her pulse pounding in her throat. “Are you suggesting I should marry Mark because he’ll make good money and buy me a nice house? Is that why you married Dad?”

Mom plopped her ball of dough in a greased bowl, covered it, and set it on the back of the stove to rise. “Of course not. I loved your father and I want you to marry for love, too. I’m just saying there’s nothing wrong with looking at the practical side, as well.” She moved to the sink to wash her hands. “Your father and I had some lean years, and that sort of thing will put a strain on even the best marriage. I want you to have every advantage.”

Ella released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay, Mom. I appreciate your concern, but trust me when I say Mark isn’t the man for me.”

Her mother shrugged and dried her hands. “Fine, fine. I still say he’s a nice young man, though.”

Ella opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, opting to leave it at that. Some arguments weren’t worth winning.

A few days later, Ella walked over to her parents’ house to get a dozen eggs and a casserole her mother made for Gran, who had been home a full month now. As they stood in the kitchen chatting, Will showed up with Seth in tow. Ella felt a tingle of excitement when she saw her brother’s friend come in the door, but did her best to suppress it. She hadn’t made a very good first impression on him, and if she was going to consider romantic possibilities with Richard, perhaps she should limit herself to one guy at a time. She watched Seth take off his hat and run his hand through wavy hair. Then again maybe she shouldn’t be too quick to lean in any one direction.

“Seth came to help me move that hog Dad and I are raising,” Will said. “Anyone else want to help?”

Ella decided she might like to see this hog and laugh at her brother moving it, if not actually assist in the process. “I’ll come with you,” she said, trying not to glance at Seth as she spoke.

Her mother looked at her like she’d announced she was moving to China. She hoped neither Will nor Seth had seen the look.

The hog turned out to be docile and cooperative. In short order they’d walked her up a ramp into the back of Will’s truck, where she settled into some loose hay and crunched apples, seemingly pleased with her lot in life.

“Ella, you want to see her on home with me? You’re welcome to ride along.”

Ella glanced at Seth, who looked back steady and level. “Be glad to have you.”

Was that encouragement? Ella had no idea, but she wasn’t in a hurry to get back to Gran’s cottage, and she’d always liked helping Dad around the farm when she was little. This was kind of like that. “Sure,” she said with a shrug.

Ella sat in the middle of the bench seat, Will driving, and Seth riding with one elbow crooked out the window.

“Why does the girl always have to sit in the middle?” she asked.

“Hey, sitting in the middle is the place to be,” Seth said. “The driver has to drive, and if we come up on any gates I’m the one who has to get out to open and close them.” He gave her a serious look. “I see a gate up there a ways. Want to trade?”

Ella laughed. “I suppose I’ll allow you to continue being chivalrous. Goodness knows Will won’t be.”

Will snorted. “Got that right.”

“Except where Laura’s concerned.” Ella dug an elbow into his ribs and watched him color.

He smiled and drove up to the gate that Seth did, indeed, open and close before hopping back into the truck. When he slid onto the seat he brought the smell of late summer with him—warm and woodsy with a hint of pine. Ella could picture him chopping wood, plaid shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. She gave herself a mental shake. Surely she wasn’t developing a crush on this guy? Gran would call it unseemly to be attracted to two men at the same time.

At Will’s place, he backed the truck up to the hog pen, and they escorted their guest down the ramp and into her new home. They leaned on the fence and gazed into the pen.

“Got her last spring and I’d say she’s already more than two hundred pounds. Should top out at three hundred or more by November when we butcher,” Will said.

An involuntary shudder passed through Ella. She’d grown up on the farm and butchering animals wasn’t anything new, but something about it bothered her today.

She straightened and headed toward the house. “Let’s go sit on the porch. It’s not like that pig’s going to do tricks or anything.” She hurried up the rise.

The two men ambled up the hill and joined Ella, where she sat on a porch swing. Will grabbed a chair, leaving Seth with the choice of standing or sitting next to Ella. He opted to stand, leaning against the porch railing. She hoped she hadn’t discouraged him in some way. Not that she wanted him to sit next to her, but still . . .

Ella pushed off with her toe, setting the swing in motion. “Weather’s not too bad for August,” she said. There, that was a safe topic.

“Farmers’ Almanac says we’ll have a hot spell in September,” Will said. “Doesn’t much matter to me so long as it turns off cold in time for a hog-killing come November.” He grinned at his sister. “Remember the first time Dad let us come to one? Man, bleeding out a hog is something to see.”

Ella felt her own blood drain from her face. Seth, who was watching her intently, straightened and said, “Hey Will, have you met Keith Randolph yet?”

“Who?”

“Keith Randolph—he owns the company that’s looking to put a hunting preserve in on Laurel Mountain. He stopped by to get some advice on forest management. Seems like a good guy.”

Ella stopped the swing and sat up straighter. “A hunting preserve? Is this Randolph fellow the developer Mavis Sanders was talking about?” She gripped the slats on either side of her. “The one who’s trying to buy up the whole mountain and maybe the church, too?”

Seth held up his hands. “Whoa now, I don’t know about all that. I guess he is a developer—has hunting properties in Georgia, North Carolina, and Virginia. But I don’t suppose he’d want to disturb your church.”

Ella leaned back in the swing again. “He’d better not. No way would we give up seven generations of heritage like that.” She snapped her fingers and scowled at him.

“Get a grip, little sister. The man was just making conversation.” Will tilted his chair back on two legs. “A hunting preserve could be a good thing. Too many folks around here have given up farming and just let their land lie fallow. I for one would like to see good use made of it.” He turned toward Seth. “You think this Keith Randolph will take good care of the place? Manage the forest and the wildlife?”

Seth shrugged. “I only met him the one time, but I liked him well enough and I appreciate that he asked questions instead of jumping on in there like he knows everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And considering all those other properties, I’m betting he does know a good bit. Yeah, I think he’ll probably do right by the land.”

Ella snorted and then flushed when Seth looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Well I don’t trust him,” she said.

Will laughed. “You haven’t even met him. Maybe he’ll be the best thing to happen to Wise since Village Hardware started selling gas for two cents less than the station downtown. We could use a little something to stir this community up.”

Ella kicked the swing off again, pushing harder than necessary. “Stirring up is exactly what we don’t need. What we need is to appreciate what we have just the way it is.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to stick her lower lip out. Seth appraised her with cool eyes, and Ella caught herself wondering what he thought of her. Not that it mattered. She told herself all that mattered was helping Gran get better and preserving the church.

Well. She might also consider getting a social life. She flushed under Seth’s gaze. If nothing else, having a boyfriend would help her keep Mark at arm’s length where he belonged.