Free Your Dream and Mine by Susan Kirby Page A

isn’t an imposition. I’m going that way.”
    “I appreciate the offer, but I’m responsible for him.”Thomasina moved past him, into the foyer and out onto the porch.
    Trace followed as far as the porch, then tracked her with his gaze across the yard. He took a ten from his wallet and watched as she patted Ricky on the back, then waved to Will as he sped away from the curb. Everyone seemed to be in her “amazing graces” but him.
    Ricky knocked loose grass off the silent mower, talking all the while to Thomasina. They both looked his way. Trace held up the ten-dollar bill. Ricky grinned and loped across the grass toward him. Thomasina ducked her head, grabbed the lawn mower and started for the carriage house. Trace thanked Ricky for doing a good job, and caught up with Thomasina at the carriage house door.
    “Just leave it. I’ll put it away later,” he said.
    When she turned, her chin was down where it belonged, and her full lips had lost their disapproving slant. “I’m sorry,” she said without looking at him. “When you sent him in for safety glasses, I thought you were giving him a hard time.”
    “Who? Ricky?”
    She nodded. Color flooded her cheeks. “I misunderstood.”
    She hadn’t. But Trace couldn’t say so. To admit he was guilty would lead to excuses, and he had none. He moved toward his truck, then turned just short of it. Uncertain why he felt compelled, he said, “If you want me to take him home, the offer still stands.”
    “What about your date?”
    “She won’t mind. She’s got a soft spot for kids herself.”
    Thomasina searched his face a moment. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But she yielded finally, smiling a little as she said, “I’ll leave it up to Ricky.”

Chapter Nine
    R icky had no trouble making up his mind. He climbed in with Trace and away they went. Whatever the trouble in the carriage house had been, apparently they’d settled it between themselves.
    Thomasina stepped on a button while climbing the porch steps. She picked it up, looked down and realized it was hers. Tired and temporarily overwhelmed by the mess of moving, she changed her shirt and drove to Newt’s Market for a sandwich.
    The store was crowded with Saturday-night loafers. Emmaline cajoled an old-timer into giving up his stool at the seven-stool counter to an “eating customer.” He hunkered down on a stack of dog food sacks at the end of the counter with his cup of coffee and a spirit of hospitality that put Thomasina in mind of Milt Chambers. She changed her mind about crossing the street to the park, and “ate in.”
    The news of the village pitched to and fro from the men at the counter to Emmaline’s uncle Earl and his checkers opponent to the gent on the pile of dog food sacks. Milt and Mary’s plans to sell out was a hot topic. The news hadleaked when the appraiser stopped at Newt’s for gas on his way out of town. Nor did Trace escape the rumor mill. Popular opinion had it that his date was a long-lost love, Deidre Somebody-or-other. They’d been spotted that afternoon, two doors down from the church.
    “Ought to put a wrinkle in young Austin’s love nest,” said the bearded old man facing Uncle Earl across the checkerboard.
    “Love nest?” echoed Uncle Earl.
    “Shore. Seen moving boxes on the porch just a while ago, and Trace helping the gal move in.”
    “It’s a two-unit apartment, and shame on you, Charlie, for starting that yarn!”
    That, from Emmaline. Grateful, Thomasina looked up and caught Emmaline motioning to the men, zipping her finger over her throat. The men swallowed their rusty cackles and tugged at the bills of their seed company caps. A siren rang, piercing the sudden shroud of silence. The men turned as one toward the wide front window.
    “Fire.”
    “Or rescue,” said another.
    The stools creaked as the men swiveled to their feet and ambled to the window. A slice of fresh strawberry pie appeared in front of Thomasina.
    “On the house.”