He laughs. “According to your mom, yes!”
December 2012
Lauren knocks loud enough for Bud to be able to hear and smiles when she hears the door unlocking. A tall, thin, elderly man with snow-white hair smiles back at her. “Mr. Waters?”
The door squeaks as he opens it toward her. “Yeah! Call me Bud, Lauren! Come in!” She enters the small living room with a couch and recliner that are long past worn. “Sit down anywhere.”
She sits at the end of the sofa and looks around the room; the wall behind the sofa is covered with photos, some of them taken on a farm. “Was this your farm?” she says loud enough for the walls to shake.
He stands in front of the couch, peering at the pictures. “Yep. The farm in Grandon.” He pauses for a moment, taking in the picture. “My dad owned it before me.”
“It was a family business?”
Bud shakes his head. “Nah. Ended with me. My boys didn’t want to farm. Can’t blame them. It’s not what it once was. It’s harder than ever to farm.”
“Was it a dairy farm?”
He nods. “The milk that farm produced!” He fades off just thinking about it. “You know, it’s not even a farm anymore. Some big shot bought the property and built an enormous house and created pastures for horses. Things change.”
Lauren points at one of the pictures. “Is this your family?”
“That’s Ron. He and his wife live just a few miles from here. He’s an accountant. His kids are grown and spread all over, but they come home when they can. And this picture here is Kevin and his wife, Kathy. You talked to her. He’s been a tire salesman for twenty-five years or so. Their two kids stayed close. They don’t live too far from here.”
“And your wife?” Lauren asks, wondering if she’s asked the wrong thing.
Bud points to a picture of him and his wife standing at the Grand Canyon when they both appeared to be in their seventies. “That’s Elaine. She died four years ago.”
Lauren can see the sadness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Waters. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says, sitting on the recliner. “As a matter of fact, I think I would’ve been offended if you hadn’t. I like it when people ask me about her. Everything I have is because Elaine and I worked together. Couldn’t have done it without her.” Lauren smiles, thinking of Travis. “I can’t help but notice that you’re about to be a mom.”
Lauren puts her hand on her stomach. “I am! I’m due this month.”
“I love being a dad. And a grandpa!” he says in a way that makes Lauren want to cry. “I hope you love being a mom.”
“I think I will,” she says, nodding.
“Would you like any water or anything to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
He settles farther back into the recliner. “You said something about trying to find someone?”
Lauren leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees. “Yes! I bought a table a few months ago and inside a drawer was a huge stack of recipe cards—so many cards that they belong in their own recipe box. All of the recipes are personalized, written from a mother to her daughter. Some of the recipes mention buying milk from Bud. It took me a long time, but I finally found you! Anyway, I don’t think those recipes were meant to be given away. I think they got put into that drawer by accident and someone is missing them. I’m hoping that you can help me find the owner.”
Bud uses the back of his hand to rub his cheek. “Are there any names on the cards?”
“No.”
“The mother never used the daughter’s name?”
Lauren shakes her head. “She didn’t. But she would buy whole milk from you and make yogurt. She would buy cream and make all sorts of recipes, telling her daughter that fresh milk made for the best recipes.”
“Do you know when the recipes were written?”
“Not really. But there’s no mention of anything modern. She mentions hayrides at Hurleys’ Tree Farm.”
“The Hurleys did that thirty or so years ago. I haven’t heard of them doing that in recent years.”
“So, the cards could be at least thirty years old,” Lauren says. “The mother said on the cards that she would pick up her milk on Saturday morning. Do you remember a woman who would come by on Saturdays who talked about cooking at all?”
Bud’s face looks disappointed. “I’m sorry. A lot of people came to the farm and my wife or kids dealt with them more than I did.”
Lauren realizes something and pulls her phone out of her purse. “I just remembered that I took a picture of some of the cards. Maybe the handwriting will look familiar.” She stands up and walks to the recliner, kneeling down next to it and holding the phone so he can see. “On second thought, I should’ve just brought the cards. That would have made more sense than taking a picture.” She accidentally taps the wrong thing on her phone and the photos she took weeks ago from Halloween at Clausen’s, decorating at Glory’s Place, and from the parks department Christmas party pop up. “Oops. Hold on. I need to scroll down and—”
“Is that Gigi?” Bud asks, looking at a picture on the phone.
“Who?”
He indicates he wants to see a picture she passed and she scrolls back, stopping when he points to a picture. “Gigi. She and her mother Joan used to come here. Whatever happened to them?”
Lauren beams at the picture and leans up, hugging Bud’s neck. “You did it!”
“Did what?” Bud asks, surprised.
“You solved the mystery!”
“Well, how’d I do that?”
“By being brilliant,” she says, smiling. She stands to her feet. “If I invited you to my house for dinner, would you come?”
“Of course!”
TWENTY-SEVEN
December 2012
“Who can come to our house for dinner on Friday night?” Lauren asks at a meeting inside Gloria’s office where Dalton and Heddy, Andrea, Miriam, Amy,
