"I do need a new pillow," he admitted, "but I can't buy it today. Where are your mom and dad?"
"My dad is up at Mrs. Hornberger's helping to pick peaches. My sisters and brothers are up there, too. Mom is over there working." She pointed to a very large farm stand that was doing excellent business as far as Fabian could see. There were plenty of cars in the parking area and lots of bustling at the stand. "I'm in charge of the geese today. Thank you for helping me. Sometimes they don't listen too good."
"You're welcome, Autumn," Fabian smiled. "This is the way to Kreider's, right?"
"Yes. You go to where the mailboxes that look like gossiping old ladies are, and it's the lane on your left. It's the next farm."
"Thank you, Autumn. Save me two pillows, will you please? I'll be back later this week."
She waved and climbed the fence into the pasture where the geese were grazing. Fabian continued to walk. He reached the mailboxes and laughed -- they were leaning together in such a way that they looked like a bunch of ladies in sunbonnets. Mowery, Kreider, Moreno, Lange, and Hornberger. There was a lane a few feet beyond the mailboxes on the left; that must be the one. He ventured down the lane, then stopped, staring. The white-gable-roofed house -- a large Dutch colonial. The white barn and silos. Yes, he had been here before. He saw the swing -- the board on two ropes suspended from an impossibly high limb on a white birch tree. Swinging was as close to flight as it was possible to get. It was every bit as wonderful as a carnival ride. There was the grape arbor -- green, shady, and smelling of the promise of sweet grapes. The chicken house -- this one with reddish-brown chickens in the run around it. He remembered the pungent feathery smell, the broody hens muttering Morse code murmurs in the heat of the day. He looked at the barn and wondered if there were still long tunnels in the hay or straw; whether the kitchen window in the house was full of morning sun and whether there was still the smell of butter and eggs at breakfast.
A dog barked and Craig came out of the barn. He saw Fabian in the lane and waved, then jogged down the lane to meet him.
"What can I do for you?" he asked. "You're a long way out of your way."
"I need to see your dad," Fabian replied. "His office said he was here today."
"That he is. Glad I found you -- Felicia and I live in the main house now, so you would have been knocking on the wrong door and there's no one there. Mom and Dad still live on the property in the echo house, and that's where he's working today."
"In the what?" Craig laughed.
"The echo house. It's a smaller house for relatives. A granny-flat -- but if you call it that my mom will kill you. Most of the farms have them. I know you don't remember, but when you were here before, my grandparents lived in ours. The grandmother who taught Lisa to bake, in fact. Come on -- I'll take you to see Dad."
The orchard on the Hornberger property is definitely one of the best around. No wonder Lisa wanted to live there. She can just pick most of her pie fillings.
From her perch, Lisa noticed Fabian walking down the road. He was carrying several bags -- he must have been at the market. She called out to him and waved. It took him a little while to find her, but when he did he jogged over from the road.
"Lisa! What are you doing up there?" he demanded. Buster was tethered to a hand cart and was taking a nap under it. He awoke as Fabian approached and started to bark.
"Oh, shush, Buster," Lisa said. "Peaches, contrary to popular belief, do not pick themselves." She smiled. "Catch." She tossed a very ripe peach down to him and he caught it. It felt like a fuzzy water balloon and smelled so good it made his mouth water. Lisa lowered the basket she'd been filling; Fabian took it and put it in the hand cart, which he noticed was full of bushel baskets of peaches. Lisa climbed down out of the tree, ending up doing a skin the cat on the lowest branch.
"I love climbing trees," she smiled, finding the shoes she'd kicked off and slipping them back on. "Would you mind helping me with the handcart?"
"How long were you up there?" Fabian wanted to know, looking at the load in the hand cart. He put the peach she'd thrown to him in one of his bags from the market and put the bags in the hand cart. Lisa untied Buster and Buster started gamboling all around her.
"Scotty and the Mowery kids were here earlier," she said. "With a few other kids from the farms. Peach pies this week. Do you like cooked or uncooked?"
"What do you mean?" Fabian picked up the traces of the hand cart and started to pull it towards the garage and the pie kitchen.
"I make two kinds of peach pies," she explained. "The kind where you bake the peaches and the kind with cold peaches and gelatin in a baked pie shell."
"I'll have to try both," he said. "This will be a lot of pies!"
"It would," she agreed, "if they were all for me. Someone will be by later for the market's stock. When you eat that peach?"
"Yes?"
"Eat it outside. Or over a sink. You have been warned."
He gave her a skeptical look and pulled the peach out of the bag again. It only took slight pressure with his thumb to push the skin aside, and he bit into it. Lisa burst out laughing at both the expression on his face and the flow of peach juice he tried to stem. She went into her pie kitchen and brought him a damp paper towel.
"You can't say I didn't warn you," she said. "Take a few with you. I have plenty, and they're still getting ripe."
"This peach is incredible!" he said.
"They do well here," Lisa told him, "and Grandma and I have a really good irrigation system rigged up. The orchard and the garden get water from both the river and the creek, depending. So even if we have a dry summer, we still have good produce."
"Only one bad thing about this peach," Fabian said, finishing it and wrapping the pit in the damp paper towel.
"What would that be?"
"I'm all sticky."
Lisa laughed again. She looped Buster's leash around the stair railing to the deck and gestured for Fabian to go into the pie kitchen.
"Come in and get washed up," she said. "So you came out to buy groceries?"
"Pretty much," he smiled. "You have me addicted to fresh produce." He tossed the peach pit into her trash can and went over to the sink to wash his face and hands. She handed him a tea towel to dry off. "I'm glad you're here, though. I have an invitation for you. I was going to call you later, but since you were out when I was passing by ...."
"How very Twin Mills of you."
"I can adapt. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "My parents would like to know if we are available to join them for dinner tomorrow night at Adrianna's."
"I am always available for Adrianna's," she said, "and the company sounds terrific."
"I realize you've met my parents," he said, "but I want you to officially meet my parents. Since they don't really have a place to entertain guests this summer, they want to take us out to dinner. And yes, they've made reservations."
"Good idea. Your sister's restaurant is popular! Even more so now that she advertises that she uses local tomatoes in her sauce."
"Want to walk me home, or are you busy?"
"Help me get the peaches into the garage and I'll walk you home," she said.
"Bring Buster. We'll pick up some sandwiches at the carnival and when we get to the vardo I'll make a salad. Bruiser and Buster can play while we eat dinner."
"Two nights in a row?" She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.
"We have to eat and you're my favorite mealtime companion."
"That sounds like an excellent plan," she said. She brought her share of the peaches into the kitchen and put a few more in Fabian's market bags.