Bought the Farm Read online

  The musicians were busy dragging their equipment out of the van and into the barn, where a stage had been set up along one wall. Cody seemed to be doing most of the work and he didn’t look too happy about it.

  He called to Travis as he wrestled one of the large amplifiers out of the van. “Hey, give me a hand, would you?”

  Travis was deep in an animated conversation with the girl in the purple top, who fussed with the ends of her hair, examining them up close and then putting several strands in her mouth.

  Travis finally turned to Cody. “Can’t you see I’m busy, man? Ask Brian.” He pointed toward the van, where the other man was fiddling with a tangle of black cords.

  Cody muttered something under his breath and then struggled toward the open barn doors with the amplifier.

  Shelby turned and was about to walk back toward the house when someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was the girl in the purple tank top.

  “I’m Paislee Fields,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Up close, Shelby could see there was a faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the tiniest chip in one of her front teeth, which overlapped slightly.

  Shelby took her hand. “Shelby McDonald.”

  “I hate to bother you, but”—Paislee twisted a lock of hair around her finger—“is there a bathroom somewhere nearby?”

  Shelby laughed. “Sure. Follow me. We’ve set up some portable toilets for the wedding.”

  Shelby led Paislee around to the other end of the barn.

  “Where are you from?” Shelby said as they walked.

  “From the other side of the state,” Paislee said. “Near Ann Arbor. My mother teaches economics at the University of Michigan.”

  “So you’re a Wolverines fan?”

  Paislee shrugged. “Not really. I didn’t go to college. My mother wasn’t too happy about it.” She nibbled the cuticle of her left thumb. “I’ve always wanted to sing and be involved with music. I’ve never wanted anything else. College would have been a waste, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps,” Shelby said, searching for the most noncommittal rejoinder she could think of.

  “Here you go.” Shelby pointed to two white portable toilets. A black silhouette of a woman’s head was on one and a man’s on the other.

  “Thanks,” Paislee said. She started to walk away, then turned back to Shelby. “I hope everything is going to go okay,” she said.

  The way she said it gave Shelby a frisson of unease. “Why wouldn’t things go okay?”

  Paislee shrugged. “I don’t know. When Travis left here, he left behind some people who weren’t too happy with him.”

  2

  Dear Reader,

  I love making my own salad dressing, although the kids always seem to want a bottle of the same stuff they see at their friends’ houses. The dressing can be as simple as some good olive oil mixed with some red wine vinegar, or you can add a handful of chopped fresh herbs for variety. You can substitute balsamic vinegar for the red wine or use another acid like lemon or lime juice.

  An Asian-flavored dressing is easy to make if you use peanut oil, rice wine vinegar, ginger, and a dash of sesame oil. I sometimes make buttermilk ranch dressing and add a good handful of chopped cilantro to give it a Mexican flavor.

  With an infinite variety of dressings and numerous ingredients to choose from, a salad need never be boring!

  “What do you mean she’s not here?” Shelby said, feeling her mouth go dry. She stood with her back pressed against the kitchen table, her hands reaching behind her to grasp the edge.

  Bert glanced up from the lettuce she was cleaning. “Just what I said. I mean she’s not here.”

  Shelby looked at the clock hanging above the sink. “Kelly should have been here more than twenty minutes ago. She’s supposed to get ready here. I have her dress and veil all laid out on the bed in my room.” Her grip on the table tightened.

  “Do you suppose she’s gotten cold feet?” Bert removed the lettuce she’d plunged into a bath of cold water and transferred it by handfuls to a cotton dish towel.

  Shelby shook her head. “No, I’m sure she hasn’t. She and Seth have been planning to marry for ages now. It’s not some spur-of-the-moment thing. They’re mature adults—not a couple of kids.”

  She and Wild Bill had been a couple of kids, Shelby thought. But things had worked out okay. Sometimes she wondered if they would have continued that way if Bill hadn’t died in that motorcycle accident.

  “They could have had a fight.” Bert wrapped the lettuce in the towel and set it aside. “It happens.”

  Shelby frowned. “I suppose so. But it’s not like them. Kelly might be a bit hot-tempered, but Seth has always been as cool as a cucumber.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and plopped into it. “I suppose he has to be in his job. Besides, they wouldn’t let some silly misunderstanding come between them.”

  Seth was the county’s family doctor and he dealt with everything from stitching up cuts to delivering babies.

  Bert began scrubbing some bright red radishes Shelby had picked earlier. “Then perhaps Kelly is stuck somewhere. That ancient truck of hers might have broken down. I don’t know how she’s kept it going as long as she has.”

  “Or, heaven forbid, she’s had an accident.” Shelby began imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios. “I tried calling her on her cell phone, but she didn’t answer.” She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table.

  “Let’s not go thinking the worst,” Bert said as she began to peel strips of skin off the radishes, leaving them striped red and white like peppermint candies.

  “I hope Billy’s ready at least.” Shelby got up from the table and joined Bert at the sink. She picked up her favorite knife—the one with the carbon steel blade that was sharper than the others—and began to slice the radishes into one of the large wooden salad bowls Bert had lined up along the counter.

  “I heard the water running and a lot of splashing a bit ago, so I assume he’s had his bath at least.”

  Shelby snorted. “Just because he filled the tub doesn’t mean he actually got in it.”

  She thought of the time Billy had nearly overflowed the tub with water but, instead of taking a bath, had spent almost an hour sailing his boats around and around in it. He’d still had dirt on his face and on the back of his neck when it came time to put on his pajamas.

  “I don’t suppose there was much hot water left, seeing as how Amelia spent a good thirty minutes in the shower.”

  “At least I know she’ll be ready on time,” Shelby said. Her thirteen-year-old daughter had transitioned from never wanting to bathe to using the entire linen closet full of clean towels every time she took a shower.

  Shelby let out a puff of air that sent the bits of hair curling around her face flying. “I might as well get ready myself, then, so I can help Kelly when she gets here,” she said. “If she gets here,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “There’s still time,” Bert said. “I wouldn’t fret too much if I were you.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Shelby took a quick shower, jumping out just as the water began to turn cold. Judging by the ring around the tub, Billy had actually gotten in, and even if he hadn’t scrubbed himself with a washcloth, at least most of the dirt had floated off him.

  As Shelby toweled dry and donned the pretty pink sundress she’d driven forty-five minutes to the nearest mall to purchase, she kept an ear out for the sound of the mudroom door opening and slamming shut. So far, the only noises she’d heard were Bert’s banging pots and pans around in the kitchen and the steady hum of activity outside.

  By the time Shelby had finished applying a light bit of makeup and fashioned her hair into some semblance of a casual updo, she was really beginning to worry. She slipped into a pair of flat sandals—it would have been impo
ssible to traverse the farm grounds in high heels—and went downstairs.

  “Any news?” she said as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

  Bert was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water at her elbow.

  “Are you okay?” Shelby frowned. “You look a bit pale.”

  Bert shook her head. “Don’t go fussing at me. I’m fine. A bit of indigestion is all. Those sausages I had for breakfast aren’t sitting too well.” She sighed. “I guess Dr. Gregson is right. I’d best start watching my diet now that I’m getting a bit on in years.”

  Shelby hid a smile. Bert had been saying that for ages, and as far as Shelby could tell, she was still eating everything and anything she pleased. How she managed to keep from gaining weight, Shelby didn’t know.

  Shelby tied an apron over her dress and began mixing the ingredients for the various salad dressings she planned to serve—a simple but elegant vinaigrette, of course, ranch made with fresh buttermilk from Jake Taylor’s cows, and a poppy seed dressing from a recipe that had been passed down from Shelby’s great-grandmother.

  “Do you think I should call Seth?” She turned her head to look at Bert.

  “I wouldn’t worry him. Not yet at least. Kelly will probably show up any minute now and you’ll have left the poor man fearing that he’s going to be stood up.”

  Shelby let out a sigh. She wanted to do . . . something.

  She was about to reach for her cell phone again when the screen door to the mudroom banged open and Kelly charged into the kitchen. She was wearing her usual uniform of ripped and stained jeans and a faded T-shirt with Lovett County Fair on the front, and she had her mass of red curls coiled on top of her head and stuck through with a pencil.

  Shelby’s nose automatically wrinkled at the scent of manure that clung to Kelly from head to toe.

  Kelly was the local veterinarian, who dealt with all the farmers’ animals as well as holding a weekly clinic to take care of people’s cats, dogs, birds, and other small creatures they chose to keep as pets.

  “Where were you? We were getting so worried. There’s only twenty minutes until the ceremony starts.”

  “Oh, pooh,” Kelly said, helping herself to a glass of lemonade from the pitcher in the refrigerator. “I’ve gotten ready in less time than that before. Most days as a matter of fact.”

  “Maybe,” Shelby said, “but most days you weren’t getting married.”

  Bert looked over her shoulder. “Shelby thought you were standing your poor bridegroom up.”

  “No,” Kelly wailed. “I would never do that. It was Mr. Mingledorf’s cow again. It was suffering from gassy bloat, and I had to introduce a stomach tube. . . .”

  Kelly must have noticed the look on Shelby’s face, because she quickly came to a halt. “TMI, huh?”

  “Definitely too much information.”

  “Has the band arrived? Have you met my cousin Peter yet?” Kelly took a gulp of her drink. “He’s the one with the red hair. He plays guitar.”

  “Not yet,” Shelby said, making shooing motions at Kelly, slowly moving her toward the stairs to the second floor. “The band is here, but there wasn’t time to talk.

  “You need to get in the shower and get dressed,” Shelby said as they headed upstairs. “Amelia said she would help do your hair. She’s quite good at it.”

  “I don’t need to do anything fancy with my hair.”

  “You’ll need to dry it at least. You can’t walk down the aisle with it wet and dripping down your back.”

  Shelby waited until the bathroom door clicked closed behind Kelly and she heard the water running before heading back downstairs to check on things.

  Bert was still sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a week-old newspaper. She insisted she was fine, but Shelby couldn’t get rid of the niggling doubt in the back of her mind. Bert’s color had come back a bit, but she was still a little too pale for Shelby’s taste.

  * * *

  • • •

  Outside on the lawn, folding chairs had been set up in a semicircle around the old apple tree, and tall metal pails filled with flowers lined the aisle down the middle. Shelby straightened a couple of the chairs and then stood back to admire the scene. Everything was in order—now if only Kelly would hurry and get ready.

  Inside the barn, the musicians had all their equipment set up and Travis was testing the sound system, which emitted the usual discordant screeching noises when he tapped the microphone. He dispatched Cody to fiddle with a bunch of dials until everything was adjusted to his satisfaction.

  The caterers were firing up industrial-sized grills where they would barbecue chicken and ribs for the guests.

  Shelby sighed in relief. Everything seemed to be in order. She was about to walk back across the field to the house when she saw a figure in the distance waving a white handkerchief at her. It looked like Seth’s mother, Nancy. Shelby wondered if she was waving the handkerchief in surrender, and she snickered to herself. Nancy had been against the whole wedding-at-the-farm idea from the start, campaigning for a black-tie dinner and dancing at a fancy hotel instead, but Kelly and Seth had prevailed.

  Nancy was always impeccably dressed and coiffed, making Shelby feel like the proverbial country bumpkin. As Shelby got closer, she could see Nancy was wearing a long turquoise chiffon dress more suitable for a ballroom than a barn. It was trailing along the ground, and the hem was already dirty.

  She appeared to be teetering, and when Shelby looked down, she could see that Nancy was picking her way across the field in strappy high-heeled sandals dyed to match her dress.

  “This is ridiculous,” Nancy said as soon as she reached Shelby. “What are my friends going to think when they see my son getting married in the middle of a cow pasture?”

  “Actually, I don’t have any cows,” Shelby said.

  “But the smell!” She grabbed Shelby’s arm. “Where is that coming from, then?”

  Shelby sniffed. There was the faintest odor of manure in the air. To her, it was hardly noticeable. “There’s a dairy farm next door. With cows. The smell drifts over when the wind is blowing in this direction.”

  “Can’t you do something about it?” Nancy stumbled and clutched at Shelby’s arm. “There’s got to be some way to get rid of the odor.”

  Dear Reader, the smell is really not that bad. Besides, I don’t think we can bring in a truckful of potpourri to hide it.

  “I don’t know what on earth made Seth agree to this ridiculous notion of a barn wedding.” Nancy said barn as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. “I’d found a lovely venue—a beautiful room with arched windows looking out over a lake. The manager said the chef does an exquisite filet mignon with a mushroom demi-glace and a gratin dauphinoise. And, of course, buckwheat crepes with caviar to start.”

  That certainly sounded appetizing, Shelby thought, her mouth beginning to water. Although perhaps it was because the caterers had started the grills and the scents of barbecued chicken and ribs were drifting across the field.

  Shelby linked her arm through Nancy’s. A diversion might be the best tactic. “Wait till you see the barn,” she said in what she hoped was an enticing tone. “It looks absolutely lovely.”

  Nancy sniffed and gave Shelby a doubtful look but let herself be led over to the apple tree where the ceremony would be held. A white trellis, covered with pink and white flowers and strands of ivy, created a soft backdrop for the ceremony.

  Guests were beginning to arrive—the women in pretty pastel sundresses, the men in blazers and striped ties.

  “I’ve put a seat back here for you,” Shelby said, resting her hand on the back of a folding chair set slightly apart from the others. “You can sit here until the wedding party is assembled and Kelly is ready to walk down the aisle. The usher will then seat you, and that will be the signal for the procession to start.”


  Nancy made a big show of brushing off the chair before finally taking a seat. Shelby noticed that the heels of her fancy shoes were stained with mud—she wasn’t going to be too happy about that when she discovered it.

  Nancy sat down, carefully arranging and rearranging the drapes of her elaborate gown, her face settling into its usual disgruntled lines and stern expression.

  Shelby put a hand on Nancy’s shoulder. “Will you be okay?”

  “Yes,” Nancy said through pursed lips. “I suppose so.”

  Shelby hurried back toward the house, nodding at the wedding guests crossing the field to where the ceremony was going to be held. She hoped Kelly was getting ready. She half feared she’d find her seated at the kitchen table, wrapped in a towel with dripping hair and chatting with Bert.

  “Is she ready?” Shelby said to Bert as soon as she burst through the door into the kitchen. “The ceremony is supposed to start in ten minutes.”

  Bert pointed to the ceiling. “They’re still upstairs. I heard the shower going, so she’s done that at least.”

  Shelby ran up the stairs so fast she had to stop at the top for a moment to catch her breath. She heard voices coming from the master bedroom and hurried down the hall.

  The sight of Kelly nearly made her gasp. Barely half an hour ago she had been wearing clothes that looked like she’d picked them out of a ragbag, her hair had been more snarled than Little Orphan Annie’s before she was adopted, and she’d smelled like a cow pasture. Her swift transformation was amazing.

  Kelly was wearing a tea-length dress with a lace overlay, a sweetheart neckline, and wide-set lace straps. Amelia had tamed Kelly’s unruly red curls into a French braid tied at the end with a pink satin ribbon that matched the ribbon around her waist. A ring of pink roses encircled her head.

  Shelby stood in the doorway, transfixed. “You look gorgeous,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “Wait till Seth sees you.”