As the boys walked toward the pile of lumber, Clay heard Joe ask what the bird looked like. Josh stopped walking and waved his arms, probably describing in great detail every feather of this imaginary bird. Clay sighed. He’d no doubt just lost his helpers.
“Howdy, Miz Warner.”
Meg gazed at the identical faces, knowing Clay could tell them apart, wondering how he did so. “Hello.”
With their hands stuffed behind the bids on their coveralls, the boys rocked back on their heels. “Fine spread you laid out here,” one twin said. “Clay said we could look, but we wasn’t to ask for nothin'. So we’re just lookin'.”
Smiling, Meg teased, “Well, the vegetables are on that table over there.”
“Yes, ma’am, but me and Joe like to look at the cakes and pies. Been a powerful long time since we ate a piece of cake or pie. ‘Course, we ain’t askin'. We’re just lookin'.”
Helen flicked a cloth over the table to chase the flies away. She’d run Robert off just as easily so she and Meg could gossip as they had when they were young girls trying to decide at whom they should direct their warmest smiles. Meg was grateful Helen had avoided talking further about Clay’s arrival. Instead, they’d discussed the apparent blossoming courtship between Dr. Martin and Widow Prudence.
Smiling, Helen leaned across the table. “Would you boys like a piece of cake?”
“Obliged, ma’am,” Joe said as he reached for a piece of cake smothered in chocolate icing.
“Can we take a piece to Clay?” Josh asked.
The smile eased off Helen’s face. “No, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
Josh nodded with an understanding that belied his years. “Then I reckon we’ll pass on the offer.”
Joe froze, the cake nearly touching his lips. He slid his gaze over to his brother. “Surely does smell good.”
Josh laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You gotta stick with family.”
“Lucian don’t.”
“I done told you somebody left Lucian on the doorstep. He ain’t really family. You eat that cake, and I’ll start thinkin’ somebody left you on the doorstep, too.”
Slowly, Joe set the cake on the table. With woeful eyes, he looked at Meg. “'Preciate the offer but reckon I’d best not.” The boys shuffled away from the table.
“That’s pitiful,” Helen said.
“It wouldn’t have hurt to let them have an extra piece.”
Helen’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “It would have been like giving a peace offering, and I’m not about to forgive that man for what he didn’t do. Not now, not ever.”
“There was a time when you saved your warmest smiles for him.”
Helen’s face burned a deep crimson. “Thank God, he was too shy to notice. I can’t imagine anything more humiliating than having that man for a husband.” She visibly shuddered. “It makes me ill just to think about all the times I smiled at him.”
“Still, it seems a shame for his brothers to suffer for something they had no control over.” Meg glanced at the abundance of food and hoped her next words didn’t betray her. “I suppose they’re fortunate your father extends them credit at the mercantile.”
Helen looked at Meg as though she had no more sense than the Hollands’ mule. “He doesn’t extend them credit. My father told him if he ever set foot in the mercantile, he’d shoot him as a thief. Said he robbed this town of its honor.”
“That hardly seems fair to Lucian and the twins,” Meg said.
“Then they should run him off.”
“I think he owns the farm. What can they do? And those twins look so thin.”
Helen held up a finger. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me feel guilty about the decision my father made.”
“I don’t want you to feel guilty, but surely your father could work out an arrangement with Lucian that will give them credit as long as his older brother doesn’t partake of the offerings.”
“Why do you care?” Helen asked.
