Deeply Devoted by Maggie Brendan Page A

mop bucket and handed it to Greta. “We were just going to have lunch on the porch because of the heat, but I hope you’ll stay.”
    Clara paused before answering, glancing over at Peter. “I guess I could stay for a little while.” It seemed Clara wanted Peter to feel sorry for her and beg her to stay.
    “Mother, I wouldn’t have asked you if I hadn’t wanted you to come,” Peter said. “Now grab a plate and help yourself while Catharine slices the bread.”
    Peter proceeded to slice enough ham for all of them. Catharine shot him a look of agitation. She was irritated that he’d forgotten to tell her about his mother. Clearly they’d have to start communicating better, especially where his mother was concerned.

 
    Catharine didn’t know when she’d been more unnerved. Her mother-in-law arrived for a lavish Sunday dinner only to find cold cuts and Catharine totally unprepared for company. She was shaking inside and tried not to let her hands show it as she poured the lemonade. How in the world could Peter forget to tell me something like that? I’m sure I looked like a bumbling bride in the kitchen . He should’ve known she would want to fix a special dinner for her mother-in-law’s first time to the home of Mrs. Peter Andersen.
    Catharine knew the bumbling was partly true. She was still learning how to fix a full meal by herself, but with Peter’s patient teaching, she was beginning to feel a little more confident. Though not far enough along that she wanted to cook for Clara. Hardly!
    A deep breath calmed her somewhat, and she plastered a smile on her face. Once they were settled in rockers and on the porch swing, she lifted the pitcher to fill Clara’s glass, but Clara stopped her.
    “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to have some of your English tea that Peter’s told me about.” Clara’s dark eyes glinted, but there was no hint of a smile in them.
    “It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Andersen. I’ll just go boil the water. Are you sure you don’t want a refreshing glass of lemonade while you wait?”
    Clara shifted in the rocker, balancing her plate on her lap. “I guess I could, but I’m not used to holding my eating utensils on my lap. What do you suggest I use for a table?”
    “Mother, you can set your glass on the floor like the rest of us. This is not like having a formal dinner, you know.” Peter’s voice seemed a little on edge to Catharine.
    Clara harrumphed. “Well, I can tell that, Son.”
    “Is that a yes, then?” Greta took the pitcher from Catharine, shooing her toward the kitchen to make the tea.
    “Yes, I will have a bit while I wait for the tea.” Clara watched as Greta poured her a glass of lemonade.
    Catharine scooted back inside, set the kettle to boil, and ran to the sitting room for her pretty tea set and tray. At least I can make good tea and present it nicely at the same time.
    “Greta, what do you intend to do now that you’re here in Wyoming?” Clara asked with a clipped tone, eyeing the girl. She bit into the thick sandwich, touching the napkin to her lips as though she were in a fine dining room.
    Greta laughed good-naturedly. “I have no idea presently. I’m helping Catharine right now, but I’ve given some thought to finding a job in time. I have a few clerical skills that I learned at my father’s shipping company.”
    “Mmm. I see.” She shifted her gaze to Anna. “And you, young lady, what do you do all day long?”
    Anna swallowed the last bite of her lunch before answering, gazing pensively over the porch’s railing. “I’m really not much help, I’m afraid. With the farm work, I mean. I try, but then I get interested in nature and hiking, painting, and watching the wildlife more, much to my sisters’ displeasure.” She sighed.
    Peter quickly inserted, “Ah, but you’ve been a big help to us without knowing it, little one.” He patted her on the head. He began stacking their lunch plates on one arm and left them by the door for