Lief gave a bark of a laugh. “Really?” he asked.

“You think it’s funny?” she asked, insulted to her core.

“I think it’s funny you didn’t tell me and you’ve been putting up with the runs!”

“I think Lilly Tahoma knows. She said she was glad to get me fresh, with no bad habits to unlearn. But don’t expect me to run around the countryside looking for a horse to ride.”

“Courtney, when you ride Blue, is it okay?”

“Oh, I love Blue,” she admitted. “She’d never throw me or stomp me. Not on purpose, anyway. But it took me a while to feel all right with her.”

“I totally understand,” he said. But then he laughed again.

“Okay, I don’t think you’re that understanding if you’re still laughing…”

“Court, don’t you think I had plenty of fears when I was your age?”

“Like?”

“Geese,” he said. “We have a lake on the farm that used to fill up with Canadian geese every spring and fall—on their way south, on their way north. I used to ride my bike to the bus stop and I couldn’t get past that lake without those sons a bitches chasing me and pecking me to death! My brothers could turn on ’em and chase them back to the lake, but they knew I was scared to death of them and they would not let up!”

“Seriously?” she asked with a laugh. “Geese?”

He frowned at her. “Hey, geese are mean and they’re as big as dogs! And they honk!”

She giggled. “Does anyone know about this?”

He peered at her, sensing he’d just told her something that leveled the playing field between them. “Everyone knows. And in case you’re interested, I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

She laughed at him. “Good for you. My horse phobia is still between us. And I’m not so sure I want to go riding.”

“Up to you,” he said. “Totally up to you. But I’m going to drive over to Jim’s to say hello to the family. Come with me. If something happens to change your mind, we’ll ride.”

“Like what could happen?”

“Well, he could say something like, ‘This is old Gert and she can barely walk, but she can still take a light rider. She just goes real, real slow.’”

She liked that; he could tell by her laugh. When she was little, when her mom was alive, she’d thought he was hysterical. He could always make her laugh. He’d fallen as much in love with Courtney as Lana. One night when he’d held Lana, she’d said to him, “If anything should ever happen to me, please watch over Courtney. Stu is a fool who married a mean stupid fool and I want to know my little girl is okay.” He had said, “You don’t even have to ask!”

“Listen, Court,” Lief said. “You could get bored, I realize that. But I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Oh, boy,” she said, sliding down in her seat.

“It’s about my mom,” he said. “She’s getting really old. She won’t slow down, that’s for sure, but she’s eighty. She’s not going to last forever. I call her, you know. A couple of times a week at least. And you know that call she makes Sunday mornings before she heads to church? She’s so old-fashioned. She allows herself only that one long-distance call a week even though we’ve all told her she doesn’t have to worry about the charges anymore. But on that Sunday call she wants to know two things. How I am, how you are.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Really?” she finally asked.

He nodded. “She’s been so worried about you since your mom died. If you could be nice to her, I’d appreciate it. Every time I see her I think it might be the last time. You don’t have to pretend, but if you could just treat her extra nice, maybe call her Gram like you used to, I think it could make her feel good. I’d take it as a personal favor.”

Again, the quiet. And then she said, “I could do that. But there’s a condition…”

“Ferrari? Porsche?”

She giggled. “I want to see the lake where the geese are. But we’re staying in the truck.”

“Done,” he said. “Thanks, Court.”

Lief’s mother had been expecting them; she was ready for them. “I’m so happy, so happy,” she said, embracing first Courtney and then Lief. “I think people will come by later, just to say hello, then come back tomorrow for turkey.”

“Fantastic,” Lief said. Then his dad came tottering into the kitchen, his newspaper in one hand. If his dad was in the house, the newspaper was attached to his hand. “Dad,” Lief said, pulling him in for a hug. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Good. Pretty good,” he said. Then he peered at Courtney. “Well, young lady,” he said.

“Well yourself,” she answered. But she granted him a smile.

“He has the arthritis,” Lief’s mom said. “Both knees, both hips.”

“Ain’t much,” Gramp said. “Picked too dang many potatoes, I guess. That’s what I get for my trouble—arthritis.”

“Are you hungry? We could make up some sandwiches.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Ate in the car. Snacked all the way, in fact. Court?”

“Nah. Thanks anyway.”

“Well, then, pour yourself some coffee. Courtney, there’s sodas. I best get back to this baking, get it all done so I can concentrate on the bird tomorrow.”

“Aren’t the girls bringing things?” Lief asked, referring to his sister and sisters-in-law.

“Sure, sure, they bring. They want to bring it all, but what sense does that make? What am I going to do with myself if they bring it all? I do the bird, the bread, and decided I wanted some cookies on hand for the little ones. Son, go get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m going to bring our bags in first,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

There was a big butcher block work island in the kitchen that was probably as old as she was, and she stood there, her hands in a bowl full of dough. Courtney stood opposite her. “What kind of bread?” she asked.

“Just my basic sweet dough. Nothing so fancy. I’ll make some rolls, couple of loaves, maybe put some aside for cinnamon rolls for breakfast…”

“Did you ever make a twisted French loaf?” Courtney asked.

Gram looked up. “Don’t know that I have, Courtney.”

“Want me to show you how?”

Surprised quiet hung in the air. Finally Gram said, “That would be so nice.”

“Well, I can’t remember how long to bake it,” Courtney said, dipping into the flour canister to sprinkle some flour on her work space. “And I’ll need a beaten egg for the glaze.”

Gram pushed the dough toward Courtney and went to the refrigerator. “We can figure out the baking time,” she said, getting out an egg. She cracked it in a bowl and beat it with a fork.

“And do you have a brush? It’s best to brush it on.”

“Course,” she said. “Let me watch how you do that.”

So Courtney kneaded and rolled out her three strips, like three fat snakes, then carefully braided them while Gram watched. She sealed the ends and had a perfect braided loaf.

“I declare, you’re gonna make yourself into a baker!” she said. Then she pushed the beaten egg and a brush toward her.

“We have to put on a cookie sheet first, and that’s the hard part. Sometimes it wants to fall apart.”

“Greased sheet?” Gram asked.

And Courtney remembered how Kelly had done it. “Yes,” she said. And a moment later she slipped her small hands under the loaf and transferred it. Then she brushed the top with the egg glaze. “There we go.”

“As I live,” Gram said. “Aren’t you the clever one. That’s so pretty. Should we make us one more?”

“Sure,” Courtney said.

“Then we best get on the cookies.”

“I don’t actually know how to make cookies. Just the kind you buy in the tube, already made, and put on the cookie sheet or in the microwave.”

“Pah, we want the real thing,” Gram said. “Let me get my file out. If you can read, you can cook. I didn’t know you had an interest in baking.”

Courtney shrugged. “I really don’t. I just picked up a few things, that’s all. Besides, there’s nothing on TV anyway.”

“That’s a fact,” she said. “Nothing on that box worth watching day or night. Not unless you like those asinine real-life things.”

“You mean reality shows?” Courtney asked.

“Asinine, if you ask me. People shouldn’t be watching other people while they’re just living their lives or trying to solve their problems. And the very idea you choose a husband or a wife on the television! The very idea! What happened to acting? If there isn’t acting in it, I can’t be bothered.”

Courtney laughed at her.

“Now, let me see—I think peanut butter and chocolate chip,” Gram said. “Does that work for you?”

“Works for me. But there’s rolls to do.”

“We’ll do ’em first. Let’s make another one of them French things.”

“You got it, Gram,” Courtney said. “I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this. We’re going to be busy all day.”

“Well, kiddo, that’s the way I like it. Busy all day. Now you tell me when you get hungry and we’ll take a break and eat something.”

“I’m kind of looking forward to the cookie dough,” she said. “Besides, don’t you and Gramp eat at about four o’clock?”

“Not quite that early,” she said. “That’s for the old folks. I’d say more like four-thirty.”

Courtney laughed. “You can make it all the way to four-thirty?”

“You wait till you’re eighty, young lady. You won’t be able to keep awake for those late meals like you used to.”

“I guess that is just around the corner,” Courtney teased.

And so they baked all afternoon. Then at exactly four-thirty they had a macaroni-and-cheese casserole with ham along with some sliced tomatoes and asparagus. Then after dishes, Aunt Carol, Lief’s sister, dropped by without her husband, just to say hello, and right behind her came Uncle Rob and Aunt Joyce. They didn’t stay long, just long enough for some pound cake and coffee. And sure enough, by eight o’clock, Gramp was nodding off in his chair with his newspaper in his lap and Gram was still banging around in the kitchen. Courtney and Lief were watching TV. Sort of.

“I think I might be able to stuff down another piece of that pound cake,” Lief said, heading for the kitchen.

Courtney thought maybe she’d eaten more today than she’d eaten in a month, but she stood up and followed him anyway. Before she got to the kitchen she heard him say, “Mom, Mom, what’s the matter?”

Courtney just waited outside the door. “Old women,” Gram said with a self-recriminating sniff. “Sentimental old fools…”

“What happened?” he asked. “Did you get your feelings hurt or something?”

“Hurt? Mercy, no! I got ’em restored! I was so afraid I was gonna die before I saw that sweet child come back to her joyous self. Lord be praised!”

“What’s this talk about dying? Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked gently.

She laughed through her tears. “Lief Holbrook, I’m feeling eighty! I could be gone by morning.”

Courtney could hear him hugging her. “I think you’ll make it till morning.”

“You better hope so. I’m in charge of the bird!”