Page 20 of Sweet Surprises

“Is this Allie’s little friend?” a masculine voice asked teasingly. “She forgot to mention you were such a heartbreaker. I’m Tripp.”

She blinked up at the figure silhouetted by light from the window behind.

“You must be the flirt,” she said.

Tag barked out a dark laugh that sounded almost rusty.

“Careful, you’ll break him,” Tripp told her in a confiding tone. But she could see that he was grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, I guess I’m the flirt. And he’s the grouch.”

Tripp was definitely handsome, but his voice didn’t ping harmonics in her chest like Tag’s did. And she was starting to feel a little defensive on Tag’s behalf at hearing him called a grouch, even though she’d thought it herself more than once.

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to get their conversation back on track. “Feeding the cows?”

“Oh, I wish,” Tripp laughed. “I’m cleaning up their poop and putting down fresh straw.”

“The cows like to come in at night when it’s cold out,” Tag said. “But that means cleanup.”

“Not for you today, though, huh, big guy?” Tripp teased. “You’re the tour guide.”

Tag snorted and headed deeper into the barn.

“Not a big talker,” Tripp said softly to Charlotte. “But he’s a good guy.”

She smiled and gave Tripp a little wave as she headed off after his brother. As she moved farther into the barn, she could just make out the soft notes of a woman crooning, the sound echoing slightly in the mostly empty space.

“That’s very good,”the woman said. The only reply was a wet, sloshing sound.

“Hey, Mom,” Tag called out softly. “I’m bringing Charlotte back here.”

“Oh, how nice,” the woman said. “She’ll get to meet Clover.”

Tag stopped outside a stall and gestured for Charlotte to come close. She stepped over so that she could see inside, where a woman in a sweater and jeans with a big work apron on top was standing in the corner of the stall holding a big milk bottle.

A sweet little brown Jersey calf, wearing what looked like a pink jacket nursed away noisily at the bottle, making the wet sounds Charlotte had heard.

“Good girl,” the lady crooned again to the little calf, then turned to her guests. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlotte. I’m Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Charlotte said. “She’s so cute. How did you get the jacket on her?”

“This is Clover,” Maggie said, glancing up at Charlotte. The light in the barn was just enough for Charlotte to see that her blue eyes sparkled just like her son’s. “Her mother rejected her. That happens from time to time. So we’re feeding her. And in the cold weather, we put calf blankets on our babies. It’s made so that you can get it on without a fuss and keep them nice and warm, even when they go outside.”

“So Clover is a bottle baby?” Charlotte guessed. “Like Jane Austen?”

“Oh, she’s good,” Maggie said with a big smile, glancing over at Tag. “That’s exactly right, Charlotte. Feeding her means a little more work, but she’ll be an extra friendly cow for the rest of her life.”

“A lot more work,” Tag said. “But Mom loves it.”

“I do,” Maggie sang out in her sing-song voice again, smiling down at the calf. “There’s a reason I married a farmer.”

Charlotte couldn’t help smiling herself. She guessed that probably no one could have. There was something special about Maggie Lawrence.

“Have you shown her the creamery yet, Tag?” Maggie asked.

“Not yet,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure your brother would like to show off all he’s done,” Maggie replied. “And since she’s selling the ice cream, she might like to see how it’s made.”

“Oh, yes,” Charlotte said.

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