Heart's Desire

Chapter 9 - Monty

As I'd hoped, Kit comes back on his own about a half-hour after running off. He stands in the open doorway, dusky cheeks tinged copper, and knocks shyly on the side of the frame.

I glance up from where I'm snapping the lid on a container of berries and give him a reassuring smile. "Hey, Kit."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, addressing the floor at his feet. "I won't do it again."

I don't know if he means he won't pick all my berries again, or won't kiss me again, but my answer's the same, either way.

"Nothing to be sorry for. And guess what? I called Grace, and she's thrilled to take the berries. I'm bringing them over now. You wanna come? See the farm?"

He nods, though I doubt he'd refuse even if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

"Alright, help me pack these up, and we'll go."

Together, we stack the containers in reusable paper grocery bags, and carry them out to my car.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up at Chloe and Grace's cute old farmhouse, where we're greeted by Grace herself. She's hanging clothes on a line that stretches between the corner of the house and an old apple tree, and wears little denim shorts and a yellow blouse with white polka dots, tied high around her waist. Her abundant black curls are bound up tight in a bun — probably to keep them off her neck in the warm sun.

"Hiya Montreal," she drawls, grinning and waving what looks like a pair of panties at me.

"You know nobody calls me that," I return, pretending to scowl.

"Why not? Got a nice ring to it, I think." She pins the tiny piece of clothing on the line and comes over to greet us properly. "What about you, Kit? You got a longer name I should know about?"

"No, ma'am," he answers, looking anywhere but at Grace.

She frowns. "There's no 'ma'ams' here, thank you very much. You can call me Grace."

He flinches, and whispers his reply to her white tennis shoes. "Yes, Grace."

Her brows pinch and she looks up at me.

I shrug and reach over to squeeze Kit's shoulder.  "Come on. Let's get these berries inside."

Grace takes a couple of bags, too, and together we carry them all in to the big, farm-style kitchen.

She and Chloe have remodeled a lot since they moved in, and the kitchen has tiled floors,  stone countertops, a big professional stove with two ovens, and a deep stainless-steel sink.

We unload the berries, stacking the plastic containers on the counters, and I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. It looks like an awful lot of work.

"Sorry to spring this on you, Gracie. You know the berries will stay good a while, refrigerated. You don't have to do all this in one day."

"I know. And I told you — it's perfect timing. Chlo' and I have something special planned for this week's dinner party, and now there'll be pie for everyone, and jam to take home. You and Kit are coming, right?"

Once a month, she and Chloe invite everyone over for dinner. It's something to look forward to, and the next one is set for the end of this week.

"Wouldn't miss it," I say, winking. "'Specially if there's goddess-level pie on the menu."

Grace rolls her eyes and waves a hand, and I notice a slim gold ring on her fourth finger. She sees me looking and smiles self-consciously.

"Chlo' and I might have a little announcement to make," she says. "We were saving it for the dinner, but you might as well know now. Wedding's set for February."