Free Huckleberry Harvest by Jennifer Beckstrand Page B

who couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old. He stood nearly half a foot shorter than Mandy.
    Mammi placed her grocery bags on the table and pointed to the young teenager. “This is Benjamin Hoover, and this,” she said, hooking her elbow around the arm of the middle boy and eagerly pulling him forward, “is his brother Stephen.”
    Stephen blushed so hard that his fair, freckly face turned purple. He was definitely older and taller than Benjamin. Probably just the right age for a wife. Mandy breathed an inward sigh of relief. Benjamin was Stephen’s tagalong, not a potential suitor. Thank goodness Mammi wasn’t that desperate.
    Benjamin poked his brother with his elbow. “Me and Stephen are visiting from Greenwood to help our Onkel Perry get the feed corn in yet.”
    The third boy scratched his chin absentmindedly and looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. He was short and stocky, with a neck as thick as his head.
    “This is Buddy,” Mammi said. Her enthusiasm seemed to slag a bit. Buddy, with his blank stare and faint body odor, didn’t seem the cream of the crop.
    “Nice to meet you,” Buddy said, snorting as if he were clearing his sinuses from the inside.
    Mandy pasted a smile on her face and reminded herself that at least she didn’t have to be alone with Noah. “You too.”
    Mammi patted Stephen on the back and motioned to a chair at the table. “I promised these boys lunch and a pot holder if they came to Huckleberry Hill to meet you.”
    Realizing she’d been holding her breath in mortification, Mandy sucked the air into her lungs and forced it out again. It wouldn’t be a good idea to hyperventilate just now. Mammi’s three recruits eyed her tentatively, as if she had a dread disease. Why else would her mammi be luring potential boyfriends to Huckleberry Hill?
    Being careful not to limp, she strolled into the kitchen to show her visitors she wasn’t lame and took a stack of plates from the cupboard. Noah didn’t look at her, and she recoiled at the idea of even glancing his way. “Noah has almost finished the stove,” Mandy said, barely even coughing at the mention of his name. “When it’s ready, I’ll grill some cheese sandwiches.”
    Mammi clapped her hands. “I’ll make Eggs Benedict.”
    “But, Mammi, it’s not breakfast.”
    “Ach, nobody cares about that,” Mammi said, as cheerful as a daisy. “And I’ve been saving up the eggs.”
    Mandy relaxed her shoulders and even managed a wan smile. She had no worries about running off this fresh batch of boys. One or two bites of Mammi’s Eggs Benedict should do it.
    “Hey, I know you,” Buddy said, maneuvering his large frame around Stephen and Benjamin and pointing to Noah. “You and your dat laid the wood floor at our house.”
    Noah’s dark expression descended even deeper into shadow. “We did?”
    Buddy propped his elbows on the stove and leaned in for a better look. “It had to be eight or nine years ago. You were just a young teenager. Your dad brought you along and nobody’s ever laid a tighter floor.”
    Noah fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing back and forth between Buddy and the roll of tape in his hands. “I recognize you. We did your house in Oconto.”
    “That’s right,” Buddy said. “There’s nobody better with wood than your dad. How’s he been?”
    Noah didn’t take his eyes from the yellow tape. “Fine. He’s fine.”
    Buddy loudly cleared his sinuses again. “I understood he wasn’t doing so good.”
    “Dat is gute. He has a woodworking shop behind our house.” Was it her imagination, or had Noah turned deathly pale in a matter of seconds? He seemed uncharacteristically vulnerable, like a little boy afraid of the dark.
    Buddy swiped his finger at a piece of lint on the stovetop. “I heard that after what happened to your sister he—”
    “Buddy,” Mandy interjected. She hadn’t meant to be quite so loud, but at least she’d gotten everyone’s attention. “I want to know