Bought the Farm Read online

  “Mrs. Willoughby! I didn’t expect to see you here,” Shelby said.

  Dear Reader, I can’t begin to imagine what excuse Mrs. Willoughby has used to get herself involved in this television shoot.

  “I’m here to help Isabel,” Mrs. Willoughby said, clutching the dozens of flowers to her chest. “The Hive at Five producer approached Isabel about doing the flowers for the show—you know she has the most wonderful garden, and she’s terribly talented when it comes to creating arrangements. As soon as I drop these off, I’ll scurry back to my car for the vases we’ve picked out.”

  Well, that was something, Shelby thought—Mrs. Willoughby and her nemesis, Isabel, working on something together. Had Mrs. Willoughby called a truce to their hostilities?

  Shelby was surprised when she saw the Lovett General Store truck pull into the driveway with Matt at the wheel. He came to a stop in back of Mrs. Willoughby’s car, opened the door, and jumped out.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Shelby said when she reached him.

  “I’m providing some of the staples for Chef Martini’s dishes—olive oil, salt and pepper, wine—things like that.” He laughed. “They promised to mention the store on the air—not that I need the publicity. There’s no place else to shop within spitting distance of Lovett.”

  Matt pulled a red plastic crate from the back of the truck.

  “Where do you suppose they want this?”

  “There’s a table all set up for the filming. I’ll show you.”

  Matt followed Shelby around to the back of the house, where Felicity rushed forward to greet him.

  “If you’ll put that over here,” she trilled in her throaty voice, leading Matt over to the table where assistants were busy arranging pots and pans and cooking utensils under the direction of a short man with a mustache wearing a polo shirt with WXYZ embroidered on the front.

  Felicity ran past Shelby with her arms outstretched.

  “Michelle, darling, so happy to see you.”

  Shelby turned and watched as Felicity greeted Chef Martini—a tall, big-boned woman with dyed blond hair gelled into spikes all over her head.

  “Shelby, dear.” Mrs. Willoughby tapped Shelby on the shoulder. “Can you possibly lend a hand? Isabel needs a table to work on and a chair, if you don’t mind. Do you have something she can use?”

  Isabel had managed to maneuver her scooter down the dirt path leading to the backyard and was waiting patiently with the flowers and their vases piled next to her.

  Shelby caught Matt’s eye and together they carried the small table Shelby kept in the foyer to pile mail on out to where Isabel was waiting. Matt took off at a trot and quickly returned with a folding chair.

  Isabel sank into it gratefully. She smiled at Matt.

  “Thank you.” She pointed at the scooter. “Getting around with that thing is terribly tiresome, but hopefully it won’t be much longer. Dr. Gregson says I’ll soon be ready for a walking boot.”

  A woman wielding a makeup brush came looking for Shelby, and although Shelby protested she was fine the way she was, she soon found herself sitting in the makeup chair, having various creams and powders applied to her face and eyelids.

  Finally the man with the mustache called for everyone to take their place and Shelby found herself in front of the camera. Afterward she thought of a million things she should have said, as well as better ways to have said what she did say, but she was proud simply to have gotten through the ordeal.

  When the cameras stopped rolling, she realized how damp her underarms were and how her hair was sticking to the back of her neck.

  Then it was Chef Martini’s turn to take the stage. Isabel had done a beautiful job with the flowers, massing them in two containers on either side of the table, and one of the assistants had dragged out two of Shelby’s pots of boxwood to flank both ends of the table.

  Chef Martini made several dishes—a chicken dish with pesto made with Shelby’s basil, focaccia sprinkled with rosemary from Love Blossom Farm, and a colorful salad of mixed lettuce Shelby had picked that morning, bathed in a dressing that included more fresh herbs.

  Isabel continued to sit at the table Shelby and Matt had set up for her, even though she had finished with the flowers. She had a stack of papers in front of her and was making notes on them with a red pen. It looked like the same stack of papers Shelby had noticed on Isabel’s kitchen table next to her laptop the day she’d brought Isabel the chicken soup.

  Shelby ducked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with iced tea.

  “You must be getting hot,” Shelby said, offering Isabel the iced tea.

  In fact Isabel looked as cool as the proverbial cucumber in a light silk dress in a pastel floral print with a large straw hat shading her face.

  She looked up from the pages she was marking up and smiled.

  “I don’t mind the heat, to be honest with you. It’s the cold that gets to me. But thank you for the iced tea.” Isabel raised the glass to her lips and took a sip.

  Suddenly a strong gust of wind came along, caught the papers stacked on the table in front of Isabel, and scattered more than a dozen of them across the lawn.

  “Oh!” Isabel cried, slamming her hand down on what remained of the pile.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get them,” Shelby said, stooping to pick up the sheets closest to her.

  Each gust of the wind lifted the loose papers on the lawn and moved them farther away, sending Shelby chasing after them as if they were playing some sort of childish game. As Shelby bent to pick up the last page, several images rushed into her head—Matt engrossed in that Damian Devine book behind the counter at the general store, Isabel with her shelf of pristine volumes by Devine, the stack of papers by Isabel’s laptop on her kitchen table. Dotty had said that Isabel wanted to be a writer—that she spent her lunch hours working on a manuscript instead of going out. Was it possible that the terribly demure Isabel Stone was actually Damian Devine? Shelby dismissed the thought almost as soon as it crossed her mind, but then as she added that last piece of paper to the ones she’d already collected, the heading caught her eye—The Man Who Knew Too Much by Damian Devine.

  Shelby stood stock-still for a moment.

  Dear Reader, Isabel, dear sweet Isabel, is Damian Devine?

  Shelby looked over at Isabel—so feminine and ladylike in her flowing summer frock and strappy sandals. Was it really possible that Isabel was Damian Devine? It would certainly explain where Isabel’s money was coming from—not a rich ex-husband and a generous alimony, as they’d all assumed. No, it appeared as if Isabel was actually a best-selling author.

  Shelby carried the papers back to Isabel. Isabel glanced at them nervously, obviously noticing that the title page of her manuscript was on top, and that Shelby couldn’t have failed to notice it.

  She looked up at Shelby. “You won’t tell, will you? Promise me you won’t.”

  Shelby could easily imagine what Mrs. Willoughby and Coralynne and the other ladies at St. Andrews would make of this piece of news.

  “I won’t breathe a word,” Shelby said.

  Isabel gave a sigh of relief.

  * * *

  • • •

  By the time everything was set up to Felicity’s satisfaction and filming was complete, it was already late afternoon. Matt had hung around and made himself useful, helping the crew break down the set and load it into the truck.

  Shelby convinced Matt to stay for dinner, and he proved himself to be quite adept at throwing around a baseball with Billy and Amelia, while Shelby grilled a steak and made a salad.

  After dinner, while the children were up in their rooms getting ready for bed, Shelby and Matt adjourned to the front porch. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, and the air was deliciously cool after the heat of the day.

  Matt looked over at
Shelby. “You know, you really had me scared yesterday,” he said as he gently rocked his chair back and forth.

  “I have to admit to having been quite scared myself.”

  “I can imagine. It makes me so mad to think . . .” Matt stood up, took Shelby’s hands, pulled her from her seat, and held her close. “Promise me you’ll be careful from now on.”

  “I will,” Shelby said, barely able to concentrate with Matt holding her so close.

  His lips hovered over hers. “I wish I didn’t have to go.” He sighed.

  “Me, too,” Shelby breathed. She motioned toward the house. “But the children . . .”

  “I understand,” Matt said, tightening his arms around Shelby. “But you have to promise that someday you’ll consider letting me make an honest woman of you.”

  Shelby smiled as Matt brought his lips down on hers.

  RECIPES

  LOVE BLOSSOM FARM MACARONI SALAD

  2 cups elbow macaroni, cooked

  1 small green pepper, chopped

  ½ cup celery, diced

  ½ cup carrot, diced

  1 small red onion, chopped

  DRESSING

  ½ cup mayonnaise

  ¾ teaspoon dry mustard

  1½ teaspoons sugar

  1½ tablespoons cider vinegar

  3 tablespoons sour cream

  salt and pepper, to taste

  Place cooked elbow macaroni in a serving bowl. In a separate bowl, mix dressing ingredients until well mixed. Add vegetables to elbow macaroni, stir in dressing, and taste for seasoning.

  COWBOY CAVIAR

  ½ cup olive oil

  ½ cup sugar

  ½ cup cider vinegar

  dash of hot sauce (optional)

  ½ green pepper, diced

  ½ red pepper, diced

  1 small red onion, chopped

  3 plum tomatoes, diced

  1 teaspoon chili powder

  ½ teaspoon cumin

  1 bunch cilantro, chopped

  1 14.5-ounce can black-eyed peas

  1 14.5-ounce can black beans

  1 14.5-ounce can pinto beans

  1 11-ounce can shoepeg or white corn

  ½ tsp salt, or to taste

  Place oil, sugar, and cider vinegar in a pan and bring to a boil. Boil for one minute. Add hot sauce if desired. Combine ingredients from green pepper through salt. Toss with oil, sugar, and vinegar dressing. Taste for seasoning.

  CHICKEN WITH ORZO

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  4 to 6 chicken thighs—with bone or boneless/skinless

  1 cup orzo pasta

  1 medium onion, chopped

  2 cloves garlic, minced

  1 cup chicken broth

  1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes

  1 teaspoon Italian seasoning or a blend of oregano, thyme, and basil

  several grinds of fresh black pepper

  1 teaspoon salt, or to taste

  ½ cup Kalamata olives, pitted and cut in half

  Heat olive oil in a sauté pan and add chicken thighs, skin side down (if using thighs with skin). Sauté until skin is nicely browned.

  Remove chicken and place on a plate. Add orzo to pan and sauté until golden. Add onion and garlic to pan and sauté until onion softens.

  Return chicken to pan and add broth, diced tomatoes, seasoning, and olives. Bring to a simmer and cook over low heat until chicken is done—approximately 20 minutes—and broth has been absorbed and orzo is al dente.

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