Evelyn shakes her hand with a firm grip. “You must be Josiah’s girl.”
Mom nods. “I am.” She glances toward the table of pies stacked behind them. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”
Evelyn tilts her head. “For what?”
“For feeding my father,” Mom continues. “He told us you and your friend Imma Jean have been bringing him pies and casseroles since his surgery.”
Evelyn waves a hand dismissively.
“Feeding folks is their love language,” Earl says.
“Just remember that he’s diabetic,” I remind her.
She fixes me with a glare. “Son, that man is eighty-one years old,” she says firmly. “If he wants a slice of pie and it makes him happy, then he darn well should have a slice of pie. We check his sugar.”
I guess she told me.
“Then why do I have to eat roughage and whites all the time?” Albert asks as he comes through the screen doors.
Her eyes cut to him. “Because you’re still a young man and you need to take care of your heart. And because I’m your momma and I said so.”
Earl snickers. “Young man. He’s a grandfather now.”
Albert introduces himself to my parents.
“He’s Harleigh’s father,” I add.
“Ah, great gal you have. Hard worker,” Dad says as he shakes Albert’s hand.
Albert beams with pride. “Yep. I’m a lucky man,” he agrees. “All my girls turned out great. They’re the ones who made today possible.”
Evelyn offers us a glass, and we leave them to their drink station and continue down the porch steps.
Mom leans close to me. “I adore that woman.”
“Everyone does.”
We wander toward the livestock pens, where another crowd has gathered.
Charli stands inside the fence with a microphone while several beautiful horses stand behind her.
She’s clearly in her element.
“These are some of the animals our students will work with,” she explains to the crowd.
She gestures to a sleek black horse. “This here is Vader. He’s a ten-year-old American quarter horse and an excellent roper.”
A few minutes later, she spots me and winks.
I shake my head.
Charli Storm is chaos in boots.
Just beyond the pens, I finally spot the person I’ve been looking for.
Harleigh.
She’s sitting on the back of a tall gray horse at the head of a small group of riders, preparing for a trail ride.
