Page 90 of Hand Picked
“Those are pretty flowers,” I said, nodding toward the overflowing vase.
Ms. Williams moved over to the kettle already steaming on the stove. “Aren’t they? Some man sent those to him. I can’t remember his name now for the life of me.”
“A man sent him those?” I asked. My voice sounded harsher than I’d intended. What man was sending Luke,myLuke, flowers? We were practically married, for fuck’s sake.
Ms. Williams let out a laugh. “Pretty sure it was an older man thanking him for taking an ewe and her lamb off his hands. My new grandlammy is the cutest thing you ever saw. She’s out in the nearest enclosure if you want to see her.”
I let out a breath and a huff of laughter. “I’m an idiot. He got a lamb? How? He must be over the moon.” Why hadn’t he told me? This was a big deal.
“Someone rescued them and couldn’t keep them. Knew Lukey was set up for taking them in. I’m just grateful he was able to give them such a good home.” She eyed me for a moment. “Since the farm wasn’t in such great shape until recently.”
I opened my mouth to respond but realized I was walking into dangerous territory. Ms. Williams hadn’t known about the sad state of the farm, so when did she get this information? And how?
She poured water into two mugs and continued. “It seems like we owe you and your family a heapload of thanks.”
I swallowed. “Luke’s been working hard.”
“Mm. He has. I can see that. I would imagine that taking a… how did she describe it?Hoveland making it into this…” She waved a hand around, indicating the sparkling new kitchen. “Had to have taken quite a bit of effort.”
“Who called it a hovel?”
She bobbed the tea bags up and down in the water. “A lady from the knitting group stopped by to pick up some yarn Luke wanted her to have. She said she couldn’t believe he’d had time to even think of her considering he’d been working on the house from sunup to sundown every day in preparation for my visit. She told me the last time she’d been out to the place, Ben Pond had run it into the ground. Even the roof had a hole in it that, quote, a vee-dubya hippie bus, unquote, could fit through.”
Her eyes never left mine.
“It wasn’t that big,” I muttered. “Valerie Tippington is a busybody known for exaggeration.”
“What I want to know, Webb Sunday, is why Lukey didn’t feel like he could tell me the truth.” She picked up the mugs and nodded toward the farmhouse table. Once we took our seats, I bought myself a little time by blowing on my tea. “Stop stalling,” she said with a soft chuckle.
“Ms. Williams,” I began.
“Laura, please,” she corrected. “Since I’m practically your mother-in-law, I believe we can dispense with the formalities.”
My face burned, and I stared at my tea again. “Laura. Yes, ma’am.”
What was I supposed to say? And would Luke get mad at me if I corroborated Valerie’s story? I took a sip of tea even though it was still too hot.
“Is this thing between you and my son real?”
I choked on the tea, nearly snorting it all over myself in an effort not to drown. Laura calmly handed me a napkin but continued to look at me with a knowing smirk.
Once I got control of myself, I met her eyes. “I have real feelings for him, yes. But…”
“But.”
I ran a hand through my hair and thought about the but. What exactly was the hesitation here?
“He’s upset with me. Justifiably so. And I received some information today that might make him even more upset. So I came over here to talk to him about it.”
She sipped her tea carefully and pondered my words. It seemed like the more agitated I got, the calmer andslowershe got.
“I see.”
“Has he said anything?” I blurted. “About me? About us? About the handfasting thing?”
Fuck it. I needed to know, and this was my best chance at gathering intel.
Even if I sounded like a fourteen-year-old lovesick loser.
