She glances at me, surprised. “Thank you.”
“Sadie,” Boone declares, “say grace?”
She does, in her rushed little voice, making sure to bless the horses, the dog, and “Miss Delaney’s magic gravy.”
When we start serving ourselves, Sadie’s practically vibrating in her seat. I don’t think she misses our old housekeeper one bit. I thought she might when she retired, but Sadie looksmuchhappier now.
And I can see why.
“Careful,” I tell her as she ladles gravy onto her potatoes with unnecessary enthusiasm. “You trying to drown them?”
She grins. “Maybe.”
I take a piece of chicken, some vegetables, and a slice of bread. Keep it modest at first. Having had some interesting experiences with food over the years, I learned not to commit until after the first bite.
First bite shuts that cynicism right up.
The chicken is juicy, skin seasoned perfectly, herbs and lemon cutting through the richness. The potatoes are crisp on the outside, soft inside, rosemary and garlic clinging to each piece. The bread is soft and chewy, with a crust that fights back just enough.
I don’t say anything. Just chew. Swallow. Breathe.
“It’s good, huh, Uncle Caleb?” Sadie asks, eyes big, waiting.
I nod. “Yeah, Sadie Bear. It’s real good.”
Delaney watches me from the other side of the table, a flicker of relief in her gaze.
Silas, never subtle, groans dramatically. “Real good? That’s all you’ve got? I’ve seen this man nod silently at five-star food, and I’ve seen him walk away from burgers that smelled of heaven. This is a ten-nod meal.”
“Eat your food, Silas,” I snap, but there’s no heat in it.
Boone takes a bite, chews, swallows, then nods once. “This is… excellent.”
From him, that’s practically a standing ovation.
Color rises in Delaney’s cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Can Miss Delaney stay forever?” Sadie asks through a mouthful, then winces when Boone gives her the “don’t talk with your mouth full” look.
“We’ll see,” he says, but his gaze goes to Delaney with an expression I’ve never seen from him before.
Silas launches into a story about a possible event series he wants to pitch. Live music nights at the ranch, themed dinners, maybe a “Saddle & Supper” package tourists can’t resist.Delaney listens while she eats, smiling sometimes, shaking her head others.
I find myself watching her more than my plate.
The way she tucks loose hair behind her ear when she laughs. The way her shoulders relax when Sadie asks her a question about the meal. The way her fingers curl around her fork.
She looks comfortable in a kitchen, even if she doesn’t look entirely settled in this house yet.
“You lived in a city before this?” I ask when there’s a lull, surprising myself by speaking up at all.
She glances at me. “Yeah. A few, actually. Most recently… a very loud one.”
“Must be a big change.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She smiles faintly. “Less traffic. Fewer sirens. More… trees.”
“And horses,” Sadie adds.
