a large bowl and pour the yogurt into it. Set it inside the fridge to let it drain to the consistency you love! I have forgotten to put the colander inside a bowl and trust me, you end up with a mess! Give it a stir and put it into a container. Will keep for up to two weeks and boy, oh boy, is it ever yummy! Don’t let the idea of homemade yogurt scare you. You watched me make it countless times. Now try it yourself. She included four happy faces that each had hair of different lengths and some faces wore glasses. Lauren looks at each face, wondering if they represent individual family members.
Lauren lets the milk cool to 110°F as she gets ready for Glory’s Place and then adds the cup of yogurt, tablespoon of vanilla, and about a quarter cup of sugar. She covers it with a lid and places it inside the oven and turns the oven light on. “Hmm,” she says. “I can’t imagine this is going to work.”
When she arrives at Glory’s Place, she sticks her head inside Gloria’s office. “Hi, Gloria! Any more goodies today?”
Gloria shakes her head. “I wish. How are you feeling, babe?”
“Pretty good! It feels like my baby bump is getting bigger.”
Gloria stands up from her desk to take a better look. “I don’t see a bump. If you want to see a bump, take a look at Miriam’s.”
“I heard that, Gloria!” Miriam says from the entryway.
Lauren turns as if headed to the big room, but stops, looking back at Gloria. “Hey, Gloria! Have you ever heard of a farmer named Bud in this area?”
Gloria’s mouth turns down as she thinks. “That name doesn’t ring a bell. What kind of farmer?”
“I think a dairy farmer.”
“Dairy farmer. No, I don’t know of one, but I haven’t been here as long as others. Check with Dalton or Heddy. Why are you trying to find him?”
Lauren shrugs. “I just heard that he had a dairy farm. Was wondering about buying some fresh milk.”
“Ah, looking into healthier foods for you and the baby! I know that Neil Wassman sells milk out on Portland Road, if that helps.”
“Thanks, Gloria!” Lauren makes her way to the lockers and wonders if Neil Wassman knows of Bud, or if Bud is even from Grandon or the area. If she could track down Bud, maybe she could track down the owner of the recipe cards and give them back to her. She knows it’s a long shot, but if they were her cards, filled with so many family memories, she would want them back. The least she can do is try to find him.
FOURTEEN
September 1972
John puts money into the vending machine and watches as a paper cup drops into place. He pushes the button for coffee, and a line of black liquid fills the cup. He lifts the plastic window, retrieves the coffee, and turns to find a table, spotting a man sitting alone, reading a book about woodcraft. “I actually have that book in my workshop right now,” John says, approaching the man.
The man, around John’s age, looks up. “No kidding! I’ve made a few things, but I’m basically a beginner.”
“Me, too,” John says.
The man points to the bench across from him. “You’re welcome to join me.” John sits and the man extends his hand. “I’m Larry.”
John shakes his hand. “John. So, what all have you made? Do you have your own shop?”
Larry laughs. “Well, I call it my shop. My wife calls it the garage. Someday, I hope to live in a place that will allow me to have a shop out back. I’ve made a couple of end tables that would never win any prizes, but they’re functional. I’m reading about how to make a kitchen table. How about you?”
John scratches his head. “Um, I seemed to bypass starting off by making end tables and went directly from making picture frames to making a kitchen table.” Larry smiles, listening. “I had hoped to have it done by October and then I moved it to Thanksgiving, but now, I don’t know.”
Larry notices as John’s face darkens and says, “So, what are you here for? Are things okay?”
John looks at the table and clears his throat. “My wife had part of a lung removed three days ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Have the doctors told you anything?”
“They don’t seem to have much good to say right now. It started out as breast cancer a couple of