Wait. Jo had said six kids? Mason leaned over the table. “You can’t count the twins. We don’t actually live here. But still, four kids in three homes proves this is a family-centered place.”
Zach set his mug down on the table forcefully. “Waterman.”
Mason raised his eyebrows. “Nemesek?”
“Green Acres Farm owns the house you live in. You help with chores, and we help watching the twins. Plus I keep seeing you at this table.”
A slow burn crept up Mason’s ears. “That’s only because I keep getting invited. I try not to take advantage of it.”
“Oh, Zach, stop it.” Claire shook her head and turned to Mason. “You’re taking him wrong. He didn’t mean that as a negative. You are most definitely not freeloading. Ever. Get that right out of your head.”
“But—”
“Agreed. We’ll return to this discussion another time. Soon.” Allison turned to Sierra. “Meanwhile, back to you.”
What did Allison mean? It sounded like a veiled threat. Mason forced his gaze not to linger when it passed Kass. What must she think of him and this whole situation? Yeah, he needed help. That had to be plenty obvious, even to a visitor. But he was trying. Doing his best. Parenting solo was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. When the twins were teens, he’d probably look back on the terrible twos as the good old days.
“We’ve talked on and off about building you guys a house,” Brent said to Gabe. “Do you think living in the duplex might be a negative?”
“It does have two bedrooms,” said Sierra. “It would still do us for a while.”
“If you’re sure.” Brent shook his head and looked at Mason. “The old farmhouse is desperate for remodeling, and that’s my top priority starting as soon as we can in the spring. I’ll bring in my Timber Framing Plus crew. Maybe Keanan can help when he’s not needed on farm work?”
The big redheaded man nodded. “Definitely.”
“But it sounds like it may be more important to get Sierra and Gabe into their own place.” A sudden thought choked Mason. “Maybe they’ll want to move into the farmhouse when it’s renovated.”
The couple in question didn’t even glance at each other. “Not at all.” Gabe shook his head. “That discussion came up when we all made the decision to buy out Zach’s parents. It doesn’t suit what we want, long term.”
“Plus we’re not desperate.” Sierra toyed with her coffee mug. “No, Brent should definitely keep to the current schedule.”
“Well, that includes a new house across the valley that will take the better part of the year to complete. That’s the one that will bring the cash influx for the farm for the year.”
“No problem.” Gabe spread his hands. “Really. Maybe pencil us in for starting a year from now. We’ll discuss final plans while we wield paint brushes over at Mason’s.”
Sierra raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Gabe. “So now you’re an expert painter?”
He slid his arm across the back of her chair and caressed her shoulder. “I know my way around a roller.”
“I wouldn’t trust him,” she said to Mason.
It wasn’t his decision. Man, this was a lot to take in. Didn’t they usually discuss this kind of thing in closed meetings? Today, not only was he present, so was Kass, who sat between Chelsea and Sierra across the table taking it all in.
“So. Adoption.” Jo tapped a fork against the table. “Any idea of a timeline? Like Claire said, babies are in high demand.”
Sierra and Gabe exchanged a look. “We’re open to kids a bit older. Maybe a set of siblings. We’ve also decided ethnicity doesn’t matter to us.”
“That should up your chances. Please do keep us in the loop. We’ll help in any way we can.” Jo’s gaze softened as she looked at her friend. “I’m happy for you guys. I hope it all works out.”
Noel cleared his throat. “I think we should pray about it. Starting here and now.” He closed his eyes and launched into a heartfelt plea. Several others followed suit.
Mason should’ve asked Noel to pray for Liz. He shook his head slightly. No doubt the man — the entire group — already did. She was Zach’s sister.
There was quiet after the last “amen” sounded then Allison cleared her throat. “You’ve all met our guest, Kass North. While I’ve known her for a few months as Finnley’s Sunday school teacher, I also know her as a wonderful person who has a passion for real food. You may know she works at the bakery. Anyway, she said something after church about batch cooking that sparked my interest. Care to share, Kass?”
Kass’s gaze flitted between Allison and Mason. “It’s not that remarkable, really, and I’m not sure how it applies to most of you here, cooking for so many. But I was involved with a group of girls in Spokane who got together once a month and did all the prep and assembly for meals. We had a lot of fun and each took home twenty-five packages ready for the freezer. We took turns planning the menus and buying the ingredients. I mean, everyone paid their share every month, but there didn’t seem to be any point in all six of us spending a couple of hours at the supermarket when one person could easily pick up everything and often a bit cheaper with the bulk.”
“So a cooking cooperative,” mused Claire, looking around. “Add that to homegrown ingredients...”
“Don’t we kind of do that already?” asked Chelsea. “I mean, we batch cook soups and stews for the freezer, and make a year’s worth of pasta sauce in October. That kind of thing.”
“We do,” Allison agreed. “We could possibly do a bit more, but I wasn’t thinking so much of implementing it for the farm as seeing if we could adapt Kass’s idea in some way for the farm school. Offer it to folks in Galena Landing. They could buy in on a monthly basis for a set amount of money, and someone would source the ingredients and get everything together. Then all the participants could get together in the school kitchen and do the prep and take their meals home. We have a commercial kitchen, after all. I’m seeing this as an ongoing program.”
“You’ll always have some who can’t make it on the scheduled day.” Claire pursed her lips. “Like someone who always works Saturdays, or is on shift.”
“That’s true.” Allison drummed the table thoughtfully. “First we need to determine if there’s need for the service before crossing that one. We could potentially offer it twice a month on different days of the week. Or we could do the cooking ourselves and sell a week’s worth of meals at a time to subscribers.”
“Kind of like Meals on Wheels?” Chelsea leaned over the table and looked toward Allison. “I’m in, either way. At least if Claire is. She’s the chef, but I’m absolutely willing to organize this and help cook.”
“Me, too.” Keanan nodded. “Unless we’re in the middle of haying or something else that can’t be scheduled.”
“We definitely need to look at all the angles before jumping in,” said Claire. “It sounds like a full-fledged business of its own. Not a full-time one, perhaps, but we still need to do our homework to make sure it’s worth our time.”
Jo shrugged. “It sounds like it fits our mandate of teaching people to eat more healthily. We can include education on the benefits of local. Mind you, they’ll taste the difference.”
“Kass and I decided to use Mason as our guinea pig,” said Allison. “He needs healthy, quick-prep meals, especially for work days.”
Mason’s head swam. Did he want all these people who lived to poke their noses in each other’s business to take over his meal planning? They did seem to get along, even with all the intrusiveness, but — whom was he trying to kid? — he needed help. No two ways about that.
He cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I gratefully accept the challenge, just so long as you remember that two thirds of us have a thing against mushrooms.”
Chapter 21
She’d hoped to do the twenty-five hour trip — according to her car’s GPS — in two extended days. Instead, that’s how long it had taken to get across Montana, crawling eastward in
the blowing snow. Meals consisted of sandwich after sandwich made from the deli meat and sourdough rolls she’d picked up in Missoula, topped off with cookies, chips, and so much coffee she’d had to pull off at every rest area. Sometimes she caught a nap beside the idling rigs while she was there anyway.
Liz tapped a phone number on her dashboard display. The phone rang seven times then went to voice mail. Seriously, what was up with that? They couldn’t be closed every time she called. Maybe her job would be to answer phones. Someone certainly needed to.
The beep sounded. “Hi, this is Liz Nemesek, and it’s four o’clock on Tuesday afternoon. I’ll be at the office tomorrow at eight, ready to work.” She bit off the need to explain to the answering machine why she was late. She’d done that twice already.
Now to find a truck stop where she could pull off for longer than a couple of hours. Preferably a place with coin-operated showers. Yeah, she had some savings, but she needed to make sure they stretched until her first payday, at least. Who knew how much an apartment might cost?
She bit her lip and glanced at the phone display again. Before she lost her nerve, she tapped another number.
Her mom answered on the second ring. “Lizzie Rose? How are you? Where are you? Is everything all right?”
“I’m okay, Mom. That storm lasted all the way through Montana, but it’s been better since then. I’ll be getting into Des Moines soon.”
“She made it, Steve.” Mom’s voice was a bit muffled, as though she covered the microphone with her hand.
“Thank the Lord.” In the background, Dad sounded relieved. “She wasn’t anywhere near that fatal pile-up near Billings, was she?”
The what? Liz hadn’t listened to the radio, just an unending stream of pounding rock to keep her awake and focused. “I hadn’t heard about an accident. When was that?”
Mom gave her the information.
“Sounds like it happened not long after I went through there. The highway was pretty ugly.”
“Your dad and I have been praying for you nearly constantly.” Mom’s voice broke. “I’m so glad God sent His guardian angels to keep you safe.”
The flippant answer would be that she didn’t need God’s help. He was too sporadic about when He decided she was worthy of it. If a person couldn’t depend on God, what good was He?
Yet she sure couldn’t claim her own driving skill to have been the deciding factor. Not after all those harrowing hours. A lifetime of them. Who knew? The angels might’ve made the difference. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“I’m still a couple of hours out of Des Moines. I’ll start watching for a spot when I’m closer.” Her parents didn’t need to know she meant a truck stop or rest area.
“And you’re starting your new job tomorrow? Give us a call when you get off work, and tell us all about it. Please?”
The wistful final request nearly broke Liz then and there. She’d done such a good job of keeping her parents at bay, even through three weeks in Galena Landing. She knew they loved her. She knew it. Why couldn’t she let them into her life?
Why couldn’t she let God back into her life?
She shoved the thought aside. “Will do, Mom. Thanks.”
“I hope this job is everything you want it to be.”
Liz hadn’t told anyone she’d been downgraded to a different position. She didn’t even know what exactly she’d be doing. “I hope so, too.” But she had a sneaking suspicion it would prove to be a disappointment.
* * *
Mason’s phone beeped with an incoming text as he locked up the tire shop.
Rosemary heard from Liz. She made it okay.
It seemed he hadn’t taken a deep breath since she left on Sunday. Thank God, he tapped back to Claire. The storm had hit Galena Landing hard, too, but the direct path had been further south. He could only imagine how it howled across the plains.
He headed toward his parents’ farm west of town. Mondays and Tuesdays were his mom’s days off work, and the twins caught the school bus there after kindergarten. Mom had invited Kass today. Not that she’d consulted Mason. Kass had told him on Sunday.
Now that he knew Liz was safe, could he set her out of his mind? She’d made a choice to walk away from both him and God. Pursuing her wasn’t an option. He would’ve done something like that before the twins. Before Jesus had claimed him. Now, even in his piercing pain, he knew he couldn’t do it. He could pray for her, but he had to let her find her own way.
Liz wasn’t coming back.
Kass was here. Pretty, bright, and a believer who liked his kids. Interested in him, too, unless he missed his guess. For everyone’s sake, he should focus on Kass. Maybe God, not Mom, had sent her into his life.
He drove into his parents’ yard and parked beside Kass’s white Rav4. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. God? Please help me be open to Your leading. Help me to think of the kids’ needs before my own, and Your will above all else. He took a deep breath. And please be with Liz and love her back to a relationship with You.
Mason pushed open the car door to see Dad striding across the yard from the barn. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hello, son. Good day at work?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Good, good.” Dad pointed a thumb at the house and lowered his voice. “Your mother is up to something, you know.”
A small smile poked the edges of Mason’s mouth as he shut the car door and fell in step beside his father. “Yeah, I figured that out.”
“She’s just trying to help.”
“I know.”
Dad angled a look at him. “You okay with that?”
Mason shrugged. “So long as she doesn’t push too hard. I know she’s thinking of the kids.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Dad punched him lightly on the arm. “Your mother wants what’s best for you. A good, stable woman. She was worried when you paid so much attention to that Nemesek girl. She’s a flighty one.”
Mason blocked the farmhouse steps as he turned to face his father. “Dad, I know you two mean well, but whom I see is my decision, not yours.”
“Your mother—”
“Both of you. That Nemesek girl is a woman, and her name is Liz. I’ve known her since we were kids, and it was good catching up with her over Christmas. We’re friends, Dad. Nothing more.” Not that he didn’t want more, but no need to explain that to his parents at this stage of the game.
Liz was gone.
Kass was here.
Mason took a deep breath. Man, he hated being pushed. Always had. If he didn’t already like Kass simply as a nice person, he’d grab those kids of his and be off the farm in two minutes flat. Even if it meant the diner instead of his mother’s home-cooked meal. For today, he’d play along, and after that it would be his decision — his and Kass’s and the twins' — if anything more would come of it. Not his parents.
“Supper’s likely getting cold,” Dad said mildly.
Mason gave him a sharp nod and mounted the steps. A moment later he entered the kitchen to the aroma of sweet-and-sour ribs and the sound of Christopher’s laughter.
Huh. Usually his son was pretty glum here.
Kass and both kids sat on the floor around the coffee table, playing cards in hand.
“Go fish!” yelled Christopher.
“Hi, Daddy!” Avery jumped up and ran to Mason.
He scooped her up and nuzzled his cheek against hers.
“That tickles.” She giggled. “Look, we’re playing a game.”
“So I see.” He set Avery down, and Kass glanced over and smiled at him.
“It’s time for supper now,” Mom called. “Come to the table.”
“But Grandma, I was winning.” Christopher flopped dramatically to the floor and groaned.
“You can finish after you’ve eaten. Come now.”
Avery tugged a laughing Kass to her feet and dragged her over to Mason. “I
helped Miss Kass and Grandma make cookies. Grandma said we can take some home.”
“Are they good?” He rested his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
“They are scrumptious.”
“I can hardly wait to try one.”
Avery shook her head. “Grandma won’t let you have one unless you eat all your supper.”
He glanced at Kass to see her wide grin then looked back at Avery. “Supper smells so good I don’t think it will be a problem. Did you help make that, too?”
“No. Grandma said to go play.”
Mom pulled out a chair. “Kass, have a seat beside Christopher. Mason, you’re on the end, and Avery, come sit by me.”
Subtle, Mom. She’d get after him if he didn’t seat Kass, so he did then took his chair around the corner. And yes, of course, they held hands for grace.
Kass’s hand was soft. Her long tapered fingers were tipped with pale pink nails. But the touch didn’t stir anything inside Mason. Too soon after Liz? Hard to know. He’d give it a try to please his mother and for the sake of the twins.
The chatter was light around the supper table. Mom had cooked corn to go with the rice and ribs bathed in a delectable sauce. There wasn’t a mushroom in sight, and Mason didn’t need to argue with Christopher over corn. Win-win.
It didn’t escape Mason’s notice that his daughter stared at Kass across the table with rapt attention as the visitor explained the monthly eating plan to his mom.
“So you’re going to be cooking together?” Mom asked him, practically beaming.
“Sunday afternoon,” he affirmed.
Mom’s smile widened.
“We need to get together to finalize the menu before that.” Kass glanced up from her plate. “Are you free any evening this week? I’m afraid I work Wednesday through Saturday.”
Yeah, Mason knew what days she was at the bakery. He shrugged. “Any evening is fine. I don’t live a very fast-paced life.”
His parents exchanged significant looks at the other end of the table. So not subtle. If either were closer, he’d give a poke with his toe.
“Thursday then? Let me bring supper. You’re off at five, right? Same as me.”
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