the first time when Julia was just—hell, about three, I guess.”
“We used to use a tabletop churn—it’s back there on the shelf. But we had so many people asking for it, we went higher tech when we expanded. Same with the cheeses. Remember, Mom?”
“My arm does. Now that this one’s always underfoot?” Maggie elbow-poked Red. “He has to earn his keep. He’s a half-assed rancher, but half an ass is better than none.”
“She fills my life with grief.” Red spooned up more stew. “And damn good dumplings.”
“I need that soda bread recipe.”
“I’ll write it down for you.”
“I know the basics, but there was something just a little different. A little sugar, right?”
“That’s right, but the real secret is working the butter in with your fingers.”
“With your fingers?”
“Mrs. Leary swore by it.”
“Surprised you have time for all that,” Red put in. “Hugh says you stay busy, in demand.”
“Multitasking.” Dillon shot her a look. “She gave me a heart attack last week when she’s kneading bread and screaming.”
“He gave me one back when he burst into the house ready to rumble. I do scream dubbing.”
“That’s a thing?” Red wondered.
“It is. Does anybody watch horror movies?”
Three fingers pointed to Maggie.
“Love them. The scarier the better.”
“Did you catch Retribution?”
“Vengeful ghosts, ramshackle house on a cliff, troubled marriage they try to patch up by moving to a new place. It had it all.”
“Anytime you heard Rachel—she was the mother—scream?” Cate tapped her throat.
“Is that right? I’m watching it again—I’ll listen for you.”
“I’m surprised any of you have time to watch anything. Milking and training and feeding and making and baking.”
“If you don’t take time,” Julia said, “the work’s just work instead of a life. More stew?”
“No, thanks. It was great. Everything was great. I have to get back and voice a snooty French swan for an animated short.”
“What’s that sound like?”
Cate angled her head at Dillon. “I think, it’s along the lines of . . .”
As he watched, she changed posture, sort of lengthened her neck, and looked down her nose. And hit a snooty French accent on the nose. “ ‘Alors, the duck, he is the disgrace, non? We have no room for so foul the fowl on our lake.’
“It’s a sweet little story on bigotry and acceptance of the different. And I really have to get to it. Can I help with the dishes?”
“Red’s got that.”
“See?” He jerked a thumb at Maggie. “Works me to death.”
“Let me put your order together.” Julia rose.
“How do we do this? Do we run a tab, do I pay you now?”
“Your grandparents run a monthly, and you can do the same. But in this case, you earned the dairy.”
“I’ll take it, thanks. I’d love some of the mozzarella. Next time I break out a frozen pizza, I’ll grate some on it.”
There was a distinct hush.
“Ix-nay on the rozen-fay izza-pay,” Dillon muttered.
“What?”
“She speaks like five languages, but doesn’t get pig latin. It’s too late for you.”
“You don’t know how to make a pizza?” Maggie demanded.
“Sure I do. You take it out of the freezer, put it in the oven. Or when I lived in New York, you pick up the phone and it magically arrives at your door.”
“Next lesson, how to make an actual pizza instead of settling for processed sauce on cardboard.” Maggie shook her head. “How do you expect to survive the zombie apocalypse if you can’t make your own pizza?”
“I never thought about it that way.”
“Better start.”
“Dillon, take this out for Cate.” Julia handed him a bag a child could’ve carried. “Her jacket’s in the mudroom. You come back soon.” She gave Cate a hard hug.
“I will. I hope you, all of you, come over to my place sometime.”
Julia waited until she heard them go out, heard the door shut before she let that inner sigh out.
Maggie just nodded. “Yep, our boy’s more than halfway gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Past smitten, rounding third, headed for home, Red. Didn’t you see how he looked at her?”
“She’s a knockout.”
Now Maggie shook her head. “Men are just simpleminded about half of everything.”
“She dazzled him,” Julia murmured. “Not like any of the other girls—women—he’s had an interest in. This one will either break his heart or fill it.”
Outside, Dillon made sure they were well out of earshot. “You know the pizza that shall not be named? I keep one—hidden—in my freezer. For emergencies.”
“For pizza emergencies?”
“They usually happen late at night.”
“I can see that.” She glanced back toward the house. “I was going to stay an hour, maybe have some coffee,