Hart's Hollow Farm (New Americana 4)

Sadie brushed past Kristen and tugged Emmy’s short sleeve. In a whisper filled with hope, she said, “I like strawberry shortcake, Nana.”

Emmy glanced at Sadie, then looked over her shoulder at Kristen.

“It’s a hot afternoon,” Kristen said softly. “Strawberry shortcake topped with chilled whipped cream would hit the spot for me, too.”

Emmy faced Ruth Ann again. “You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t want pity.”

Ruth Ann smiled. “Good. Because strawberry shortcake and small talk’s all I’m offering.” With that, she spun around, went back to her car, and opened the trunk.

Kristen walked down the steps, squeezing Emmy’s arm as she passed and saying to Sadie, “Let’s give Ms. Ruth Ann a hand, okay?”

They did, Kristen lifting the largest box, packed with canisters of flour, sugar, and baking powder, and Sadie carrying a small box containing sticks of butter and tubs of whipped cream. Mitch carried in bowls and a large blender, then excused himself to round up the boys and check the fields.

Over the next couple of hours, Emmy, Ruth Ann, Kristen, and Sadie sliced strawberries, whipped up a sweet berry mixture, kneaded and baked biscuit dough, then began assembling individual shortcakes.

Emmy eyed Ruth Ann’s hands as she dolloped generous heaps of fluffy whipped cream atop six strawberry-slathered biscuits. “You’ve slapped too much whipped cream on that batch.”

Ruth Ann cocked an eyebrow and sucked a speck of cream off the tip of her finger. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. They’re gonna spurt out all over the place when someone takes a bite of ’em.”

Ruth Ann shrugged. “So be it. Besides, some people like the whipped cream best.”

“It’s too much. We’ll have to mix more topping to finish the others.”

Ruth Ann huffed. “Why must you always make everything into an argument?”

“I’m not arguing. Everyone with good sense knows you stack equal portions of cream and strawberries to balance things out.”

Wincing, Kristen set down the large spoon she was using to spread berry mixture on the biscuits and glanced at Sadie. The little girl stood on a step stool at the other end of the kitchen counter, wide eyes moving from Emmy to Ruth Ann and back.

“Emmy,” Kristen said, “it’s no trouble to make more topping.”

“It is, too.” Glaring, Emmy pointed a cream-covered spatula at Ruth Ann. “She’s just doing it to get my goat.”

Ruth Ann propped her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous, Emmy. And it’s just like you, always having to have the last word on everything.” Her face reddened. “Just like you had to have Joe.”

“Uh-oh, here we go.” Emmy’s voice hardened. “I knew you’d get on that before you left. You’re just gonna hold on to that until I croak, aren’t you?”

“You’re darned ri—”

“Don’t worry, Nana.” Sadie grabbed a bag of sugar, dumped it into a big bowl of whipped cream, then grabbed a handheld mixer. “I’ll make more for you.”

Kristen sprang to action. “Sadie, don’t!”

Before Kristen could reach her, Sadie flipped the mixer on high, shoved it into the bowl, and flung clumps of whipped cream and sugar all over the kitchen, herself... and Emmy and Ruth Ann. They were covered in it from the tops of their gray heads to their waists.

Kristen, who’d managed to duck beneath the spray of whipped cream, rose from her crouched position and cut off the mixer. She watched, frozen in place, as a particularly slimy glob slid off Ruth Ann’s nose and plopped onto her splattered blouse. “I-I’m so sorry, Ms. Ruth Ann.”

Shoulders shaking, Ruth Ann returned Emmy’s stare across the table; then both women burst out laughing. Whipped cream fell from their faces onto their clothes and the table as they doubled over and reached out to take each other’s hands.

“That’s what we get for acting like two foolish children,” Ruth Ann howled between bouts of laughter, squeezing Emmy’s hands and trying to catch her breath. “Just look at us. I doubt he’d want either of us now.”

“No, I don’t think he would.” Emmy’s laughter trailed away. “Especially considering the way I’ve been treating you.” She released Ruth Ann’s hands and limped around the table, wiping her face. “Here you are, trying to be a friend to me again, and I start harping away.”

“You’ve harped for as long as I can remember, and I’ve always loved you anyway.” Ruth Ann grew silent, then reached out and squeezed Emmy’s arms. “What do you say we let Joe rest for a while? And let it just be you and me again? Like it used to be?”

Emmy nodded slowly and whispered, “Like it used to be.”