back.”
“And me.” Her grandmother sighed. “How quickly the time passed.”
“Indeed.” Sophia led them to the far end of the large kitchen, out of the way of the cook and serving maid. “But we have our memories.”
“Yes, we do, Mrs. Sheffield.” Sadie laughed and moved to the eating table by the back door. “I remember you sitting us down in these very chairs and lecturing us about taking cookies instead of asking for them.” She shifted her gaze to her grandmother and grinned. “And I remember receiving a few similar lectures from you at home, Nanna.”
“Well, they never worked. ”
“Of course not.” She giggled, feeling young and unburdened being in Callie’s aunt’s kitchen with Nanna again. “We children knew perfectly well that if we asked one of two things would happen—either we would be told to wait until after we had eaten, or we would be given one cookie each instead of the two or three we wanted. We all decided early on that the extra cookies were worth the lectures.”
“Why, Sadie Elizabeth Spencer! I raised you better than that!”
She dissolved into laughter at her grandmother’s feigned indignation.
“Evidently we adults all failed to impart that particular moral lesson, Rachel.” Sophia’s lips twitched.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Sheffield, you’re wrong.” She tamped down her laughter and looked into Sophia’s violet eyes. “We all knew that taking things was wrong. And we were careful not to do so—except for the cookies.” The laughter bubbled up her throat and burst free again. “We reasoned that since you had baked them for us, it didn’t really count as taking what was not ours.”
“A child’s logic...” Sophia laughed and walked to the cookstove, pulled the teapot forward onto the front plate. “Well, you and your friends were wrong, young lady. Now, I suggest you run over to Willa’s for a visit during which you repeat this conversation so you can both repent of your ill-conceived childhood deeds.”
How kind Sophia was. She’d been longing to go see Willa and ask her to come to Butternut Hill. Did she dare? She cast a glance toward her grandmother. If she lapsed into the past... “That’s a lovely idea, Mrs. Sheffield, but...I’ll visit Willa another time.”
“There’s no time like the present, Sadie.” Sophia lifted a tin of tea from off the shelf by the stove, turned and looked straight into her eyes. “You go on, dear. Rachel and I are going to have a nice chat over a hot cup of tea. I haven’t seen her since they moved back home, and I’ve lots of village news to tell her.”
The message in Sophia’s beautiful eyes was clear: your grandmother will be fine here with me. Still...
“Oh, lovely, Sophia! I’ve missed out on so much since Manning was taken ill by that seizure. Let me help with the tea.” Her grandmother waved her toward the door, turned and reached for the china teapot on Sophia’s stepback cupboard.
She opened the door onto the large, familiar back porch, uncertain of what to do. Perhaps she should stay out here and wait. In spite of Sophia’s kindness, her grandmother might need her. She seated herself on one of the two settles that faced each other on either side of the kitchen door and looked around. How often she had played here on the porch with Callie and Willa. And beneath it.
A smile curved her lips. She rose and walked to the far end of the porch, braced her hands on the railing and leaned out to look down at the board they had slipped behind to sit in the dim light and listen to the footfalls overhead while they made plans and whispered their childhood dreams to one another. Except one. She’d never confessed to Callie or Willa the love for Daniel she’d carried deep in her child’s heart.
She straightened and looked out beyond the hotel’s stable, resting her gaze on the calm, flowing waters of the Allegheny River. One day the men who worked in her grandfather’s logging camps would come into town and
“And me.” Her grandmother sighed. “How quickly the time passed.”
“Indeed.” Sophia led them to the far end of the large kitchen, out of the way of the cook and serving maid. “But we have our memories.”
“Yes, we do, Mrs. Sheffield.” Sadie laughed and moved to the eating table by the back door. “I remember you sitting us down in these very chairs and lecturing us about taking cookies instead of asking for them.” She shifted her gaze to her grandmother and grinned. “And I remember receiving a few similar lectures from you at home, Nanna.”
“Well, they never worked. ”
“Of course not.” She giggled, feeling young and unburdened being in Callie’s aunt’s kitchen with Nanna again. “We children knew perfectly well that if we asked one of two things would happen—either we would be told to wait until after we had eaten, or we would be given one cookie each instead of the two or three we wanted. We all decided early on that the extra cookies were worth the lectures.”
“Why, Sadie Elizabeth Spencer! I raised you better than that!”
She dissolved into laughter at her grandmother’s feigned indignation.
“Evidently we adults all failed to impart that particular moral lesson, Rachel.” Sophia’s lips twitched.
“Oh, no, Mrs. Sheffield, you’re wrong.” She tamped down her laughter and looked into Sophia’s violet eyes. “We all knew that taking things was wrong. And we were careful not to do so—except for the cookies.” The laughter bubbled up her throat and burst free again. “We reasoned that since you had baked them for us, it didn’t really count as taking what was not ours.”
“A child’s logic...” Sophia laughed and walked to the cookstove, pulled the teapot forward onto the front plate. “Well, you and your friends were wrong, young lady. Now, I suggest you run over to Willa’s for a visit during which you repeat this conversation so you can both repent of your ill-conceived childhood deeds.”
How kind Sophia was. She’d been longing to go see Willa and ask her to come to Butternut Hill. Did she dare? She cast a glance toward her grandmother. If she lapsed into the past... “That’s a lovely idea, Mrs. Sheffield, but...I’ll visit Willa another time.”
“There’s no time like the present, Sadie.” Sophia lifted a tin of tea from off the shelf by the stove, turned and looked straight into her eyes. “You go on, dear. Rachel and I are going to have a nice chat over a hot cup of tea. I haven’t seen her since they moved back home, and I’ve lots of village news to tell her.”
The message in Sophia’s beautiful eyes was clear: your grandmother will be fine here with me. Still...
“Oh, lovely, Sophia! I’ve missed out on so much since Manning was taken ill by that seizure. Let me help with the tea.” Her grandmother waved her toward the door, turned and reached for the china teapot on Sophia’s stepback cupboard.
She opened the door onto the large, familiar back porch, uncertain of what to do. Perhaps she should stay out here and wait. In spite of Sophia’s kindness, her grandmother might need her. She seated herself on one of the two settles that faced each other on either side of the kitchen door and looked around. How often she had played here on the porch with Callie and Willa. And beneath it.
A smile curved her lips. She rose and walked to the far end of the porch, braced her hands on the railing and leaned out to look down at the board they had slipped behind to sit in the dim light and listen to the footfalls overhead while they made plans and whispered their childhood dreams to one another. Except one. She’d never confessed to Callie or Willa the love for Daniel she’d carried deep in her child’s heart.
She straightened and looked out beyond the hotel’s stable, resting her gaze on the calm, flowing waters of the Allegheny River. One day the men who worked in her grandfather’s logging camps would come into town and
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