Free A Secret Identity by Gayle Roper Page B

down their homemade fertilizer. But I love the privacy and peace. For them I’ll overlook the other.”
    “Compromise,” I said, smiling. “The Amish aren’t the only ones.”
    We sat in the car with the windows down, enjoying the warm magic of dusk. Neither of us seemed to want to move. We listened to the crickets’ symphony and watched the lightning bugs flash in the shrubs as sunset faded from lavender and peach to pearl-gray velvet to deep night lit by a full moon.
    “Smell the honeysuckle?” I think nothing means peace and summer like that scent.
    “Come with me,” Todd said.
    He got out of the car and walked to the edge of the lawn where a vine grew up a fence post. I followed willingly. He broke off a sprig from the vine and handed it to me. I held it to my nose and inhaled deeply. Sweet, sweet honeysuckle.
    “Ever draw the nectar from the flower?” he asked, pulling a blossom free.
    “Sure,” I said. “We Maryland girls love honeysuckle.”
    I watched as he pinched the base of the flower and slowly pulled the long stamen free. He put it into his mouth and, closing his lips over most of it, slowly withdrew it, obviously savoring the sweetness.
    “That’s one way to do it,” I said.
    “You’ve got a better way, I suppose.”
    “Sure.” I plucked a blossom and, putting the end in my mouth, bit it off. Then I inhaled the sweet trace of nectar. “Simple, easy, and quick.”
    We pulled every flower off the sprig and several off the vine on the post, Todd carefully pulling the stamen free, me biting the tip and sucking in the nectar.
    Finally we wandered back to my car, and Todd handed me my keys.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said. “How about if I bring us some breakfast? Egg McMuffins?”
    “With orange juice and a large coffee. We can eat out by the pool.”
    I climbed in and Todd shut my door. He leaned in the open window.
    “I’m glad we met this evening.” Then he grinned. “I had a good time.”
    I grinned back. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
    He stood up. “Yep. It’s the truth.”
    As I backed out of the driveway, I couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning.

     
    “Cara, I’d like you to meet some friends,” Todd said after the service Sunday morning. We were standing in the parking lot. “This is Clarke and Kristie Griffin.”
    I smiled at the couple. He was tall with very dark brows under sandy-colored hair; she was slim and somehow lovely despite being dressed in swirls of ruby, emerald, sapphire, with shiny gold dots all over.
    “This is Cara Bentley, a client of mine,” Todd said. “I’m taking her out to the Zooks’ place to see about her renting your old rooms, Kristie.”
    Kristie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Cara, you’ll love it! I had the most wonderful year there.”
    “Sure you did.” Clarke grinned at her. “You met me.”
    Kristie leaned into his side and gave him a gentle elbow to the ribs. I remembered Todd saying that the woman who had rented the rooms before me had just gotten married. It showed in the way she looked at Clarke and the way he smiled back.
    “You’ll love the Zook family,” Kristie assured me when she pulled her gaze reluctantly from her husband. “Mary and John are so pleasant and nice and hospitable.”
    “And Mary is a great cook,” Clarke said. “Don’t overlook that very important fact.”
    “And she’s an artist.” Kristie obviously thought this a great thing. “We’ve just begun selling some of her landscapes and quilt pictures. In fact, if you’re a client of Todd’s, you’ve probably seen one in his office.”
    I nodded. “There are two beautiful paintings on his wall.”
    “One of them is Mary’s,” Kristie said.
    “And the other is Kristie’s,” her proud husband said as he gave her shoulders a squeeze.
    Before I had a chance to ooh and aah, Kristie continued talking about Mary. “I still go out to the farm to take Mary on drives so she can pick scenes she wants to paint. Then I take