the doe in the middle, which was tan with white-and-black markings on her face and hindquarters. She was angular with prominent hipbones, thin thighs and a long, lean neck and body. Britt knew the uninitiated might consider her underfed, but a good dairy goat was neither fat nor meaty. Mildred looked like a good prospect.
Britt stretched a hand toward her and all three goats edged forward to nip at her fingers and sleeve. She patted Mildred between the stumps of her horns.
“Okay, Milly,” she said. “You and I are going to take the world by storm.”
Though Britt was pleased with Mildred, Mildred didn’t appear to be thrilled with Britt. She complained loudly as the two women lifted her into the back of the truck. Britt raised the tailgate and locked it. Mildred looked at her with sad, accusing yellow eyes.
Britt patted her flank. “It’s just for a couple of days, Milly. You’ll have fun.” Britt walked around the truck to the driver’s side, then turned to hug Judy. “Wish me luck. If this works, it could be the end of my problems.”
Judy smiled skeptically. “Don’t be silly. This is life, Brittany. Problems never end, they just rest between eruptions.”
“How’s the book coming?”
“So-so. I think it needs more violence, but I’m not very good at that. I hate to hurt anyone I create.”
“I’ll lend you my kids,” Britt said, grinning at her little play on words. “Fair exchange. They do violence to one another without a second thought or hint of remorse. Would that help?”
Judy smiled blandly. “Thanks awfully, but I’ll pass. Let me know how it goes.”
Britt waved out the window as she headed home.
Her mind glutted with ideas, she tried to make herself relax and take it one slow and careful step at a time. First, she’d make Mildred comfortable. Then she’d see that she had just the right things to eat to produce the perfect milk for her recipe. Then she would make the recipe work.
Everything would come together; she just felt it would.
Britt pulled into her drive, noticing the young spring green on the tips of everything, then turned into the yard.
She was just beginning to relax when she saw the red Explorer parked behind her station wagon. Her heart gave an involuntary and rather violent lurch. Jake Marshack was back.
HE WAS SITTING on the top step of the porch, Daffodil beside him, licking his ear. The dog gave one loud bark and went running toward the truck. Jake got up more slowly and wandered down the steps while Britt came around the truck, eyeing him suspiciously.
She was as pretty as he remembered. After breakfast that morning, as he’d gone around on his self-appointed chores, he’d been plagued with a vivid memory of her, pink-cheeked and clear-eyed, insisting that Marge order his omelet. He’d finally concluded that she couldn’t be as beautiful as he remembered. He was simply flattering himself because she’d come so wholeheartedly to his defense.
But he could see now that his memory had been sharp and true. She’d torn out the braid at some point since he’d seen her this morning, and her gold hair hung loose and a little wild in the early-afternoon wind. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright, though he noticed a bluish bruised effect under them. That hurt him in a way he didn’t entirely understand and couldn’t have explained.
She stopped halfway across the yard as he came toward her. “Mr. Marshack,” she said coolly. “What is it now?”
He fought an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms, carry her into the house and put her somewhere where she could rest undisturbed for a week. Instead, he moved past her to the truck and examined the goat, his hands in his suit pants pockets. “New transportation for Matt so he can keep his paper route?” he asked.
She fought a smile, then gave in. “No, he’ll get by on my old bike. Actually, the goat’s part of my plan to ruin your plan.”
“My plan?”
“To make me sell.”
It wasn’t his plan, it was someone else’s higher up the chain of command. But he didn’t want to talk about that.
“That’s not why I’m here,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat as she looked into his quiet brown eyes. She’d seen them over and over in her mind last night, then this morning after their meeting in the diner. There was a message in them she was afraid to read.
She dipped her head in mock apology. “My mistake. Why are you here?”
“Actually,” he said, gently taking her arm and leading her toward the porch, “it’s part of my plan to ruin your plan.”
“I’m getting confused,” she admitted. Then she noticed the bike leaning against the porch railing. It was a shiny new Huffy with a water bottle, a carry-bag attached to the frame and other options she couldn’t even identify. She gasped at the beauty of it, smiled instinctively at the way she knew Matt would react to it. Then, when she’d had time to think, she frowned.
“I thought I explained—”
“You did,” he said appeasingly, “and I understand and appreciate all your parental concerns. But the fact remains that your son wasn’t completely at fault, and it bothered me all night. If you insist, he can pay me five dollars a month or something until it’s paid off.”
She looked at the spiffy top-of-the-line model with all the extras. “It would take him until he’s twenty-one.”
“Hardly.”
“Mr. Marshack. I don’t think...” she began halfheartedly, hating to deprive Matt of this beautiful bike, but knowing in her heart he’d be careless with it again and she’d never be able to come close to replacing it.
But the yellow school bus at the end of the lane expelled her children, and the dog ran to greet them. They were halfway to the house when their attention homed in on the bike. Matt shouted and started to run, the others following quickly behind, the dog weaving in and out of them in suicidal patterns. From the truck, Mildred complained loudly. Unnoticed by the other children, the goat brought Renee to a dead stop. At the sight of it she veered toward the truck.
Matt skidded to a halt at the porch steps, Christy and David flanking him breathlessly, all sets of eyes on the bike.
Britt watched Matt’s face as his gaze caressed every shiny inch of it. He looked up at her, obviously afraid to draw any conclusions about what the bike’s presence meant.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. Then, apparently deciding his best behavior was called for in this uncertain situation, he extended his hand to their guest. “Mr. Marshack. Nice to see you again.”
Britt melted as Jake shook hands with her son. Even knowing Matt had probably realized displaying good manners could only be to his benefit, it was such a deep-down, genuine pleasure to find that he’d absorbed something she’d taught him. She put an arm around him and squeezed.
