The All You Can Dream Buffet (9 page)

Her destination was the manager’s small house, which crouched at the edge of the stream that looped around the farm in almost too picturesque a manner. It ran fast this time of year, still fed by clear melting snows.

Noah sat on the steps of the porch in his stocking feet, drinking a mug of coffee. His hair, too long as always—a rebellion against his soldier days, she thought—hadn’t yet been brushed, and his eyes were swollen with sleep. Or what passed for sleep with Noah Tso. He was known to get by on an hour or two, snatched from the maw of his nightmares.

That’s what happened when you sent men to war over and over. It sucked something out of them. She’d been a teenager during World War II, and those men fought a long time, too. Years on end, most of them. Noah had spent three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan and wanted only a place where he didn’t have to pretend he still had the usual small talk and
foolishness of everyday interactions. He just wanted to be left alone, to spend time on the land. Lavender could practically see the ghosts who followed him around, and, having known some ghosts herself, she’d taken pity on him.

Good thing, too. He was the best manager she’d ever had and was devoted to the principles of the farm that she’d laid out twenty-five years ago, long before it was hip: organic, whole, integrated, natural.

He ignored the women who angled for his attentions, with such aloofness that he was labeled arrogant, stuck-up, too good for himself—all those things people said when they didn’t know what to make of a body. Because he was beautiful, they wanted him to see them in return; when he didn’t, they felt embarrassed.

“ ’Morning,” Lavender said now. “You have a minute?”

“Always.” He wiped a hand over his face. “What’s up?”

She sat down next to him on the step, grunting a little. Her knees were creaky, no matter how much ginger she imbibed.

“Any more trouble along the fences?”

“Fixed a little breach yesterday afternoon, but it could have been anything.” Noah turned his copper eyes, as penetrating as a laser, on her. “You’re being paranoid.”

Lavender shook her head. “Nope,” she said, pushing her lower lip out. “Wade is after this land, mark my words, and once I’m gone, those nephews of mine will sell it to him so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

Noah nodded.

“He’ll ruin it, Noah, every bit of it. He’ll just turn it into another Wade Markum Enterprise, and everything I’ve been working for all this time will be lost.”

“You keep telling me this, but I’m not sure what you want me to do. Sell it now. Rewrite your will.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one I want.”

“No can do,” he said, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Mmm.” She took a breath. “Well, that’s what this party is about, then. One of these gals might be my heir.”

He frowned into his mug. Took a sip. “What makes you think any of them could do it? Running a farm like this isn’t a little thing.”

Lavender eyed a trio of hens who had wandered down the path behind her. One fat girl with wheat-colored feathers clucked under her breath, eyeing the ground. “I’ve known all three of them for years. Each one has something that might make her a good fit.” She held up her thumb. “Ruby is devoted to the organic movement, and she’s young and looking for her place in life.” She poked her index finger into the air. “Valerie and her daughter need a fresh start, and Val’s as smart as anyone I’ve ever met. She’s spent a lot of time studying wine, which takes a knowledge of the soil.”

Noah gave her a skeptical look. “She’s the ballerina, right? City woman.”

Lavender shrugged. “She’s a stretch but worth a try.” She stuck up her middle finger. “Ginny was raised on a farm and is so miserable where she is that I think she’d move to Mars.”

“You do what you need to do, I guess. I’ll be here.”

She patted his shoulder. “Fair enough.” She got to her feet. “How is the dancing platform coming along?” Her vision for the night of the Blue Moon Festival included a party like the ones she’d enjoyed in her youth, with lights strung around a platform and everyone dancing to a band.

“It’s good. Come on over later and I’ll show it to you.”

“Will do.”

As Lavender was heading back toward the house, Noah called after her, “Lavender, I am sorry.”

She only waved a hand. He thought he knew what he wanted, but she saw him better than he did himself. She hadn’t given up yet.

Lavender found Ruby drinking a mug of tea on the porch of the cottage. Ruby didn’t see her, so Lavender caught the pensive expression before Ruby could mask it with her eternal smile. She reminded Lavender of a Russian farm girl, with her straight blond hair and curves and the round apple cheeks. Before they’d met in person, Lavender imagined that Ruby would be a whirling dervish, thin and leggy and exuberant.

The exuberance was there, of course, the zest that brought people to her blog in such numbers. But how did a person stay so cheerful all the time?

“Good morning,” Lavender called out now. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“I’d like to make you some breakfast if you’ll let me,” Ruby said. “It’s my turn, you know.”

“Better be something hearty. I’m starving.”

“Pancakes, then. How’s that? Do you have any bananas?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. I also have some fresh blueberries we collected down by the creek. We can run down to McMinnville later this afternoon and get groceries if you want.”

“I’d really like to do that. I need to stock up on a bunch of fresh food.”

The kitchen was tiny, just about enough room to turn around three times. “I need coffee,” Lavender said. “You want some, too, or does it upset your stomach?”

“I’m going to stick with my mint tea.” Ruby gave Lavender a wan smile. “The doctor gave me anti-nausea drugs, and I broke down and took some this morning.”

“Sometimes medicine is a good thing.”

They moved companionably around the small space, back-to-back, side by side. Ruby assembled her ingredients and heated a griddle Lavender had dug out of the back of a cabinet, a cast-iron beauty that covered two gas burners. It had belonged to her mother and showed the depth of time.

Ruby squeaked when she saw it. “This is so cool!” She made a kissing noise toward it. “I’ve wanted to get one for ages.”

“My mother used it nearly every day of her life.”

“I can imagine.” She spread oil over the heavy iron, then lovingly heated it until water skittered over the surface. As she ladled the batter into evenly sized pools, Ruby bloomed with that beneficent, glowing smile. She half lit up the room with it. “Can we go to the meadery today?”

“You bet.”

“And … uh, do you have cat food?”

Lavender frowned. “Cat food?”

“A little black cat showed up on my doorstep last night. She was being chased by a coyote, and I took her in. She slept on my tummy all night. Oh! And speaking of
that
…” She put her hands on her hips and gave Lavender a big grin. “Guess what? I felt the baby move last night!”

Lavender blinked, trying to sort out the threads of that paragraph, but what she was really thinking was what a pretty thing Ruby was, all that shine to her. What the heck was wrong with that man of hers, anyway? It made no sense.

“Congratulations! That’s a big moment, I understand.” As Lavender spoke, she sorted through the emails from Ginny. “As for the cat, I’m sure she’s one of the barn cats. There is a feral colony around, too, but they’re not inclined to sleep with humans.”

“Feral cats? How do they live if there are coyotes?”

“They’re quick and smart, and not all of them do.”

Ruby blinked, her hand frozen, then said, “Oh.” She put the pancakes on two plates, turned off the burners, and carried them over to the table.

“Nature is cruel,” Lavender said. The pancakes were light and fluffy, steaming with hot huckleberries. “These are gorgeous, girl.”

Ruby poured maple syrup over hers and passed the bottle over. “I know that, about nature. But if a kitten shows up hungry and hiding from a coyote, a woman doesn’t have to be as cruel as nature.” She popped a bite of pancake into her mouth, raising her eyebrows as if to challenge Lavender.

Instead, the older woman nodded. “Fair enough. I’ve got some tuna around here. She’ll like that, I betcha.”

Just then Ruby’s face crumpled and she covered her mouth with her hand, raising a finger at Lavender before she ran for the toilet.

While Ruby threw up, Lavender prepared a cup of chamomile tea and sweetened it with a touch of honey from her own hives. When Ruby returned, she said, “Try that.”

Ruby nodded, pulling the pancakes and tea over to her. “Maybe I can eat now.”

I’m writing this from my cozy little trailer, on the road. Outside, rain is pattering on the top of my roof, and, inside, my good dog Willow is snoring softly.

Today I had the great good fortune to meet one of the community here, Tina Romero, from Rocky Ford. She was kind enough to invite me to her home, where she and some of her friends had made several cakes from “Cake of Dreams.” Thanks, Tina! I had such a great time.

This is my Black Forest cake, which some of you might know was the very first cake I posted to this blog. Isn’t it pretty? Find the recipe
here.

107 Comments

9:17 TinaR

Ginny is so gracious! We were so excited to meet her, and she was just as nice in person as she is in her blog. I’m going
to just say that her picture here doesn’t do her justice. She’s a very pretty woman.

9:18 Young Girl

So jealous! Wish I could have been there.

9:32 Glenna

I have baked that cake many times since the first time I read the recipe here. It’s a family favorite now.

10:10 Hilda12

You’re on your way!

Ginny awakened to the sound of car doors slamming and the shouts of children. The air in the trailer was stifling, because she hadn’t opened any of the vents or windows, and her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Willow was sprawled out in the longest stretch of space in the trailer, on the tile between the stove and dinette. She was sound asleep. Peeking out the window, Ginny saw a family piling into the rest-stop bathroom. Although she couldn’t see it, she heard the rumbling of a semitruck engine somewhere close by.

Her mouth was dry. Her neck was stiff. She had to pee.

Some adventure.

Still, she stood up, finding her back and knees stiff from the long drive yesterday, and hobbled into the bathroom. It was a tight fit, but she loved the birch on the walls and the Art Nouveau glass mirror. The shower had been detailed with four tiny rows of glass tile inlaid in a chevron pattern, and it was big enough to stand up in. Some of the trailers she’d looked at made the bathroom and shower a single room, and she’d decided right away she wanted better than that. A morning like this was a good reason why.

Slipping back out to the main area, she pushed open the roof vents to let in some cooler air, then made sure the curtains were closed good and tight, stripped naked, and stepped into the shower. Quickly, she rinsed away the sweat of the long night,
feeling some of her depression sluice away into the drain with it. It seemed slightly wicked to be showering in a big parking lot on the side of an interstate, and she suddenly liked being a person who could do it.

She considered splurging on washing her hair but, since the campground was only a little ways up the road, decided against it. A person who could shower in her trailer in a parking lot could also put her hair in a ponytail for the rest of the morning.

Buoyed, she dressed and thought about making a cup of coffee on her little stove. Willow yawned and wagged her tail, however, so Ginny took the dog out for a morning pee.

And stopped dead. The temperature couldn’t have been more than sixty degrees. The air smelled like grass and fresh morning, the feel of it on her skin as whispery as the sky, stretching overhead in bold, bright blue. She breathed it in, deeply, and let it go, astonished. Who knew the air could be like that in the summertime, especially the day after a heavy rainstorm?

Willow was less impressed with the quality of the air and pulled Ginny to the grass. A couple with a fussy little dog waved at her, and she waved back. The kids who had awakened her raced around an open area, no doubt burning energy before they headed on their way.