“Glad to do it.” Tom and Drew disappeared out the door.
“You sure there's enough?” Robert asked.
“Absolutely.”
“All right then. My mother isn't expecting me.”
“Adam?” Jean asked.
“Sounds good. Thanks. Could I get a drink?”
“Sure,” Laurel said, filling a glass and handing it to him. “Robert?”
“Yeah. My throat's dry. I could use a drink.” Laurel filled another, and Robert took it. He gulped down half the glass. “That's good water,” he said, handing back what was left. “I still haven't gotten used to having water anytime I want. It's like a miracle.” He looked at Laurel. “Our well came in good.”
“I heard,” Laurel said.
“There'll be plenty of water. Even if I put another house on the place, there'll be enough.”
Laurel hoped he wasn't counting on her being the one to share it with him.
Adam handed her his glass. “Can I get a refill?”
Laurel filled the glass and handed it to Adam. This time he drank slowly.
Lifting the lid on the pot, Will peered inside and sniffed the rising steam. “Smells good.”
Jean grabbed the lid and set it back on the kettle. “You'll ruin the dumplings.”
He smiled down at his wife, circled an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. “The dumplings will be just fine. No one makes them as good as you.” He kissed her, then unexpectedly danced her around the room. She laughed and followed his lead.
Laurel studied Adam as he watched her parents play. His blue eyes were alight with admiration; his mouth curved in an appreciative smile. He turned warm eyes on her. For a moment she met his gaze, then embarrassed, Laurel busied herself by turning away and dipping flour out of the bin. “Does the stew need thickening?” she asked.
“Whew,” Jean said with a laugh, stepping out of Will's arms. “Let me check.” She moved to the stove. Lifting the lid, she poked the dumplings, then carefully swirled the meal. “It could probably use a little. I'll take out the dumplings and you can finish.”
“Laurel's already a fine cook,” Will bragged to Robert.
“Will, did you remember the pies?” Jean asked.
“I thought you knew me better than that,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “I'd never forget one of your pies. They're on the seat of the pickup.”
“I'll get them,” Laurel volunteered, happy for an escape.
The air was chilly. The sun had dipped behind the mountains, and the valley lay in shadow. Laurel stood on the porch a moment, breathing in the air and enjoying the sensation of cold on her throat and lungs. Heading for the truck, she heard the back door creak open, then thump closed.
Adam leaped off the porch. “I'll give you a hand.”
“It's just two pies.”
“I wouldn't want you to drop one,” he teased. When they reached the truck, he opened the door and stood aside while Laurel retrieved one pie and handed it to him. He allowed his hand to rest on hers for a moment. “Did you bake these?”
Adam's touch unsettled Laurel. She quickly withdrew her hand. “I helped Mama. We picked the berries yesterday.”
“They look good. So your father was right when he said you're a good cook.”
“I do all right.” Laurel grabbed the other pie. When she turned around, he was standing close and staring at her. Holding the pie against her chest, Laurel met his eyes. “Adam, is there something you want?”
A look of discomfort flickered across his face. He didn't say anything for a long moment, then finally he lightheartedly said, “Just thought I'd give you a hand. I told you.” He turned and headed toward the house.
Confused, Laurel followed.
Jean set the kettle on the stove. “Supper's ready. Everyone sit down.”
Luke and Will carried in chairs from the front room, and everyone took their places around the wooden table. Jean set Susie in her high chair and handed her a spoon. The little girl babbled, beating the spoon against the wooden tray.
“Smells awfully good, Mrs. Hasper,” Robert said.
“Thank you. I hope it doesn't disappoint you.”
“I'm sure it won't.”
Luke leaned forward on his elbows. “Adam, I read the latest article you wrote for the paper. It was good, but I'll betcha some people will get in a snoot over it.”
“I suppose. But I don't write to please people. I write news.”
“I didn't read it. What's it about?” Will asked.
