Free Autumn Winds by Charlotte Hubbard Page B

“It’s up to you what ya do first, Ben—Scripture or cake,” she teased.
    “And all these eyes are followin’ my every move, watchin’ for things like that, too, aren’t they?” Ben countered with a laugh.
    Rhoda laughed with him and resumed her seat. She placed the Bible on the little table between her chair and Ben’s, watching his face in the flickering light of the lantern. Without his hat, his light brown hair fell around his temples and then flared back slightly over his ears, like soft, glossy bird’s wings . . . such a nice contrast to the way most of the men in Willow Ridge combed their hair down and got it chopped straight across their foreheads and along their shirt collars.
    “My dat used to say that life was short, so ya should eat dessert first,” Ben replied. “But I feel bad bein’ the only one to give in to this temptation.”
    Ya think Mamma’s cake is a temptation? Just you wait, Ben Hooley!
    Rhoda smiled to herself and glanced at her mother. She wasn’t surprised that Mamma was watching the way their guest’s fine mouth closed over his forkful of cake. “We don’t decide on our breakfast menu most mornin’s until we get to the Sweet Seasons,” Rhoda remarked as Ben’s eyes closed over his first bite of dessert. “Sometimes—for special occasions—we take requests. And your goin’ to Hiram’s tomorrow seems like a gut time to fortify ya with all the stuff ya love best. What would you like?”
    Ben swallowed, thinking about it as he savored another bite of cake. “I don’t think a fella ever gets enough gut bacon and sausage,” he said in a dreamlike voice. “Especially if it’s butchered local.”
    “Our meats come from Zook’s Market, and Henry himself does the butcherin’,” Rhoda assured him. “He makes the best—”
    “Apple sausages!” Mamma joined in gleefully. “This time of year, he can’t keep his sausage links with little chunks of ground apple in stock, but his boy, Jonah, delivered us a case yesterday. We’ll cook some up tomorrow!”
    “Makes the whole café smell wonderful -gut ,” Rachel agreed.
    “And I make mighty fine French toast, too, topped off with fried apples, all sweet and spicy with cinnamon!” Rhoda leaned on the arm of her chair closest to Ben, determined not to let her sister and her mother steal her thunder. “Or those fried apples are tasty with oatmeal pancakes—”
    “Or how about that apple walnut coffee cake ya made a couple weeks ago?” Rachel suggested. “Once Micah and the Kanagy boys got into that, it was gone before any other customers got a chance at it.”
    Ben laughed as he took the final bite of his cake. “I can’t possibly eat all that! But I’ll do my best to devour whatever you’re cookin’, because for sure and for certain it’s better than what I’d grab at a convenience store like I usually do when I’m on the road.”
    When he handed her his empty plate, Rhoda saw how lean and strong his hands were, with occasional scars, like Dat had gotten over the years, when sparks had jumped from the forge. To keep from staring at his long, slender fingers, she patted the Bible. “Pick us out somethin’, Ben. I’ll be right back.”
    As she entered the dim kitchen, Rhoda’s thoughts spun like tops. Oh, but she’d wanted to keep Mamma out of their menu planning! Wanted to ask Rachel whose side she was on, too, giving Ben ideas about what their mother baked best! It wasn’t like she herself fell short on the cooking end of things!
    Don’t be a little kitty cat, mewin’ for attention! You’ll hear no end of it!
    Rhoda took in a deep breath. Reminded herself that Ben Hooley would be in Willow Ridge—in the little apartment above the smithy—for at least a couple of weeks yet. Plenty of time for him to see how he’d be better off marrying a younger girl like herself, who wasn’t already used to running her home a certain way, and wasn’t tied down to keeping a café open, either. Mamma had always