Maggie scoffed. “Not justanycattle rancher. Seth took over his grandaddy’s small farm when he was nineteen. Had one employee and twenty cattle back then. Now, ten years later, he’s got fifteen men working for him and over five hundred cattle on three thousand acres.”
Seth gave his grandmother a sheepish smile and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “The small farm was pretty great,” he said.
Wow, three thousand acres! I had known that Seth’s land was big. It took over a mile to drive past it, but I had no ideathatbig.
Maggie smiled at me. “You know the house you’re living in now? That’s where I grew up, and then later Seth and his brothers. My father built the house. Seth bought this one ten years ago, and we all moved over for bigger and better dreams.”
My fork clattered to the plate. “I live in your childhood home?” I asked, shock rushing through me.
Seth nodded, chuckling. “Haven’t been inside for a decade, but I’ll bet ya the third stair still creaks when you walk up it.”
A huge grin broke out across my face. “It does!”
“My great-granddad bought that farm back when it was worth pennies. So the money from the sale bought all this.” He gestured to his new house and the acreage and cattle beyond.
That made me feel good—that selling the small house I now lived in had helped him chase his dream.
The meal was amazing, rich, and yummy, and the conversation was nice, too. I learned that Maggie had been a homemaker for her entire life and had five children. All boys. Then Seth’s mom had three children,all boys. The all-boy thing tended to run in the family, and it was a joke now that they all wanted a girl badly. Seth’s parents were both retired missionaries in the Philippines and visited a couple of times a year. Seth’s brothers were scattered across the countryside in various jobs, from lawyer to fireman, but Seth stayed back. He loved the farm and the childhood it had offered him and his brothers, and he wanted that for his family one day.
They were nice people, and I was grateful for good neighbors. After lunch, Maggie insisted on walking me home.
“I drove,” I told her.
“Well, I’ll drive with ya and walk back. I need to get my steps in,” she said.
I was quickly learning that there was no sayingnoto this woman.
When we stepped outside, I was shocked to see Honey perched on the roof of my car. “That hen is obsessed with me!” I exclaimed. She kept breaking out of the coop and following me! Could she smell me or something?
Maggie grinned. “I’ll hold her on my lap.”
Without missing a beat, Maggie wrangled the chicken, and then we drove over to my house. When we got there, Maggie let Honey out, and the hen squawked before walking over to my side and pecking at my shoelaces.
“Thanks for lunch,” I told her earnestly and wondered if I had to invite her in to be kind. Truth be told, I was kind of tired and wanted a nap. The house was a mess, too.
“So, my Wednesday night Bible study,” Maggie started, and I gave her a chuckle.That’swhy she’d wanted to walk me home. She peered over her shoulder as if to check if anyone was nearby and then leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s really more of a crafting social hour. I mean, we start with a Bible verse, but that’s about it. The thing that is special about this group is that we are all widows. You should come, make some friends.”
Widow crafting social hour.
That sounded interesting, to say the least. Anna would get a kick out of it and encourage me to go. Maggie was so forward, but I couldn’t really argue with a seventy- or eighty-something-year-old, could I? Besides, if it wasn’t a Bible study and was just one verse, maybe I could handle that.
“We’ll see. I’m hoping to start work soon,” I told her, still unsure.
She waved me off. “Well, that’s fine. It’s from six to eight p.m. Bring a dish to share!” she shouted as she began to walk away and threw a hand over her shoulder in goodbye.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure I can make it!” I shouted back.
“See you soon!” she screamed and ran faster than I’d thought humanly possible for a woman her age.
“Man, she doesn’t let up, does she, Honey?” I asked the chicken as I opened the front door to the house.
Honey spread her wings and flew inside like she owned the place, and I jumped into the foyer after her. “No, no, out!” I yelled.
But she walked quickly to where the fire was dying and nestled her way into a blanket I had folded in front of it.
I laughed at the sight and shut the door behind me. “What are you, a dog?”
I walked over and plopped down in front of her, petting her head. She purred, closing her eyes.
