Almost Home by Mariah Stewart

Anytime I can help out, give me a call. I’m pretty good at painting ceilings and doing the cutwork.”
    “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, knowing full well that she’d walk through fire before she asked for his help.
    Wade walked down the uneven path to the gate, then turned suddenly. “Hey, do you have a ladder?”
    “What?” She stepped outside.
    “A ladder. You didn’t have one in the car, and Ididn’t see one in the house.” He leaned over to place Austin in the stroller.
    “I didn’t think about needing one,” she admitted. How could she have forgotten a ladder?
    “Even as tall as you are, you’ll still need one to reach the tops of the windows and the ceiling.” He smiled. “I saw one in the carriage house the other day. I’ll drop it off.”
    “No, Wade, it’s okay. I can pick one up at the hardware store tomorrow.”
    “Why go to the trouble when we have one? As far as I know, Berry’s not planning on doing any painting anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry about returning it until you’re finished.”
    “Really, Wade—”
    “See you.” He waved and started to jog down the street. Steffie walked to the end of the drive. He did look good in jogging shorts, she’d give him that. She thought back to the other morning, when he’d stopped at the shop wearing jogging shorts and a tank. Now,
that
was a nice picture to call up, she couldn’t deny it.
    She started to turn back to the house when Wade surprised her by looking back over his shoulder and waving just before he turned the corner onto Parish House Road, and her heart twirled around in her chest.
    Now, why did he have to do that?
    “Immune. Right.” She snorted and jammed her hands into her pockets and walked back into the house. “Way to hang tough, Wyler.”
    *   *   *
    “Did you try the new pumpkin spice latte?” Vanessa poked Steffie in the middle of her back. “Carlo is going seasonal this year.”
    Steffie shook her head. “I know this is a revolutionary thought, but how ’bout coffee that just tastes like coffee all year round? No need to change with the season, no need to be creative.”
    “You change your ice-cream flavors with the seasons,” Vanessa reminded her.
    “Ice cream is different. It has to have a flavor. Coffee already has one.” Stef stirred her mug of breakfast blend. “Oddly enough, it’s called ‘coffee.’ ”
    “You could just make vanilla.”
    “Boring.”
    “My point exactly.”
    “Nah, you can’t compare.” Stef took a chair at the table where Grace, Nita, and Barbara were already seated. “And you have to be seasonal because if you use fresh fruits, they have to be in season. Strawberries in early summer, peaches later, apples even later.” She took a sip. “Other stuff in between.”
    “But strawberries seem to be in season all the time, somewhere.” Nita looked up as Vanessa and Stef sat down.
    “But I prefer stuff when it’s in season here,” Stef said.
    “What do you do in February when you want to make strawberry ice cream?” asked Barbara.
    “I use the berries I froze the June of the previous year.”
    “So, they’re not really in season when you use them,” Vanessa pointed out smugly.
    “But they were in season when I froze them, sotechnically, they count.” Stef held up her mug. “And coffee is always in season.”
    The women debated the merits of flavored coffee over unflavored for another minute.
    “Stef”—Nita leaned forward slightly to make eye contact—“was that Wade MacGregor I saw helping you unload your car last night?”
    “I was unloading the car, and he just happened to be passing by on a walk with Austin.” Stef raised an eyebrow. “Where were you?”
    “I just happened to be driving by and I saw him getting something out of the back of your car,” Nita explained.
    “I bought paint,” Stef told her.
    “My, you’re not letting any grass grow under your feet, are you?” Grace smiled.
    “I want to move in as