0764214101 by Tracie Peterson

rest.”
    Start over. If only he could start the whole last year over.

    Lillian had been deeply touched by Woody’s honesty on their ride out to the farm, but when he’d knelt to apologize to his son, she’d wanted to cry. She’d never seen or heard a man apologize before.
    Mrs. Goodman approached her. “Let’s get you settled, Miss Porter.”
    Lillian glanced around.
    “It’s just us, dearie. Woody went to tuck in Jimmy for the night, and then he’ll fetch your bags and take them to your room. Meanwhile, let me show you around a bit so you’ll know where things are.”
    “Oh. Thank you.” She followed the housekeeper up the steps and into the massive home. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected of a farmhouse. But then, she hadn’t known what to expect.
    The beautiful hand-carved door opened into a spacious foyer. It housed a grand staircase beyond what looked like a parlor on the left. To the right, the foyer opened up into a smaller sitting room. Mrs. Goodman detailed the building of the home by Woody just a few years prior and what the land was like before the Coltons arrived, but Lillian found herself caught up in the pictures on the walls and the homey touches that made her feel welcome and accepted. Rebecca Colton must have been a wonderful woman. A pang hit Lillian’s chest. She wished she could have known the lady of the house.
    “This is the music room.” Mrs. Goodman opened a door just off the small sitting room. She picked up a lighted lamp by the door and stepped into the room. “Nobody goes into it anymore. Rebecca was the only one who played the piano. She had started to show Jimmy how, but then . . . well . . . you know the rest.”
    Lillian moved across the room to touch the beautiful mahogany wood. “I play. In fact, it is something I feared I would miss coming to California. Do you suppose Mr. Colton would mind if I played it and even used it to teach Jimmy?”
    “I can’t say for sure, but I know Woody to be a fair man. Just ask him and see what he says. Could be if it grieves himtoo much, he’ll still allow you to use it when he’s away. Now, come along. There’s more house to see.”
    They moved back through the house, with Mrs. Goodman commenting all the while. Finally they reached a large room with a lace-covered table and six chairs. To one side was a beautiful china hutch.
    “These are Brown-Westhead Moore dishes, if I’m not mistaken.” Lillian smiled at the sight of the china. “My grandmother had a complete table service of these. She ordered them from Spaulding in Chicago.”
    “They were Rebecca’s favorite.” Mrs. Goodman came alongside Lillian. “She thought them quite smart.”
    “Oh, they are. I love that they have the white base, but then the gold and burgundy leafing around the edges with the pink roses and green leaves make them absolutely charming. I ate many a meal on dishes just like these.” She looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to delay you.”
    “It’s no trouble. As you can see, this is the dining room.” Mrs. Goodman continued on through the butler’s pantry. “And, of course, here on the other side is the kitchen.” She went to the stove. “You must be starved. I’ve got a couple of plates warming here. Take a seat. With just the three of us, we usually eat here.”
    Lillian almost collapsed into a chair, not even sure she had the strength to lift a spoon. But when the plate was set in front of her with roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans, her stomach growled loudly enough to echo off the walls.
    Mrs. Goodman laughed. “Eat up, child. I know you’re about to fall over from exhaustion. I can see it in your face.” She turned but spoke over her shoulder. “We’ll get you all settled in your room after you’ve had your fill.”
    Lillian pulled off her hat and gloves. “Thank you.” Shescooped mashed potatoes into her mouth. It wasn’t very ladylike, but no one was watching, and the smell