The Fitzgerald home was only about ten minutes from my parents’, and it was surrounded by fields. Taking a shortcut through the untamed sagebrush that covered the grazing grounds north of my parents’ fields, I bumped along for about a half mile before cresting a hill that overlooked the mellow green waves of wheat that banked Shayla’s property. The lane going up to her house blended into the sagebrush, and I slowed so I wouldn’t miss the turn.
As I pressed on my brakes, I glanced in my rearview mirror and was surprised to see a silver sedan come around the curve behind me. Not many people knew about this shortcut, so I wondered if Shayla had visitors coming. As I turned right down the lane, the sedan slowed and then sped past me. The dust hung thick in the air, so I didn’t catch a glimpse of the driver.
I felt a bit rattled as I entered Shayla’s home, but she immediately put me at ease. She introduced me to her kids with a wave of her hand, and I admired the three towheads. “They have your dimples.”
She grinned. “I have to admit, I was hoping they would.”
The two boys and the girl continued watching cartoons in the family room while Shayla led me back to the sitting room where an old desk served as her calligraphy headquarters. I leafed through a binder of samples done on different types of envelopes, cardstock, vellum, and even handmade paper.
“These are beautiful, Shayla. It’s just the thing I’m looking for to make my business stand out. I want to be able to offer my clients anything and everything their hearts desire.” I tapped a piece of vellum monogrammed with a swirly ‘F.’ “And this is what both my brides will want.”
“Really?” She blinked rapidly, and I was happy that her work was the quality I needed.
At least Sylvia would be satisfied, for once. We’d already examined the work of a few locals, but she had rejected them for one reason or another. Looking at what Shayla had to offer, with her more elegant handwriting, I felt confident my search was over.
“I’ll show these samples to my clients. And hopefully be contacting you next week about getting started on hand addressing five hundred place cards.”
Shayla gripped my hand. “Thank you, Adri.”
On my way home, I kept a sharp eye out for the silver sedan but didn’t see anything. I breathed a little easier when I reached home and pulled in next to Jenna’s car. Bryn’s squeals reached my ears before I made it to the front steps. Her red pigtails danced as she burst through the front door and into my arms.
“Aunt Adri!” she screamed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Hi, Brynnie!” I squealed right back at her.
“Let’s play,” she commanded.
“Okay, but I want to say hello to your mommy first.” I found Jenna sitting in the kitchen sipping a glass of water. Her auburn hair contrasted with her fair skin, which looked a bit paler than usual, but she smiled brightly when she saw me.
“Adri! I’m so excited you’re here.”
“Wow! Now I know where Bryn gets her enthusiasm.” I gave Jenna a hug.
“I am excited, but mostly because I wanted to tell you that Wes and I are going to be extremely busy this December.”
Winter was my brother’s chance for a little downtime, so I wondered what project they had cooked up. Then I noticed the saltine crackers beside Jenna’s water glass. “What do you have planned?”
“A new baby.” Jenna beamed.
I cheered and hugged her again. “That’s incredible news, but you must be feeling rotten,” I said, indicating the crackers.
“The worst should be over soon. I’m almost eleven weeks.” Jenna touched her stomach, but besides a little puffiness in her face, she didn’t look pregnant yet.
“Aunt Adri, we need to play now. I’ve been waiting forever,” Bryn said.
I obliged and helped her make a blanket fort in the living room. We earned a few raised eyebrows from Grandma when we almost tipped over her lamp. The soft flannel on the quilt we used for the floor of the tent looked inviting. Bryn and I pretended to sleep, and I actually started to doze off. The stress of the past week had zapped my energy.
The sizzle of ham hitting the wok awakened my growling stomach, and I hoped today would be a lucky day for Wes so we could eat on time. My brother and I had both grown up working the fields, either moving pipe or weeding endless rows of vegetables. It was hard to do much with my friends during the growing season when potatoes needed to be irrigated three times a day. My friends and I would call it a lucky day if we finished in time to do anything fun. Occasionally, I still texted Wes and wished him a lucky day in the fields.
At fifteen minutes to seven, I heard the diesel engine of Wes’s pickup as he pulled into the driveway. Bryn tripped over the blanket in her hurry to meet him, and I caught Grandma’s lamp one more time before it hit the ground. I decided to adjust our blanket fort to exclude the table with the lamp on it.
Wes came in through the garage, leaving his work boots by the door. The back of his neck was turning a dark brown with his farmer’s tan, and I noticed how his sandy brown hair curled at the nape of his neck just as it had when he was younger. Wes carried Bryn into the kitchen and kissed Jenna before turning to me. “How’s my little sis?”
“Hey, brosky. I don’t smell like fertilizer, so that’s always a plus.” I wrinkled my nose when I hugged him, and he laughed.
“At least I don’t have to
