They all moved into the dining room, and Joy took her seat at the foot, smoothing her skirts under her.
“Isn’t that right, Joy?” Thomas said.
“Absolutely,” Joy affirmed. She had no idea what Thomas was talking about as she’d been thinking about the other couple’s horrible last name and not paying attention.
Mrs. Applebottom sniffed slightly and adjusted the string of pearls at her throat. “I must say, Mrs. Worthington, your punctuality could use some…refinement,” she said.
“I do apologize once more,” Joy replied, her voice sugared with a sincerity that she hoped would defuse Mrs. Applebottom’s displeasure. “The garden was particularly generous this year, and the harvest waits for no one.”
“A garden, you say?” Mr. Applebottom asked, obviously interested.
“Oh, yes!” Joy beamed. “I’ve been helping with the harvest and canning of the fruits and vegetables grown in the orphanage’s garden. And their apple orchard. I’m afraid it’s taken up most of my time this week.”
“It’s good to instill the value of an honest day’s work in children,” Mrs. Applebottom remarked.
“Teaching them is a communal effort,” Thomas added quickly.
“Quite commendable,” Mr. Applebottom nodded.
Joy exchanged a look with Thomas. As dinner progressed, Joy’s infectious enthusiasm seemed to gradually thaw the frosty exterior of Mrs. Applebottom, who, despite herself, began to inquire about the varieties of apples grown in the orchard.
“Who knew apples could be such common ground?” Joy thought.
The cook deftly navigated the dining room, balancing a serving platter piled high with roasted chicken as the aroma of herbs wafted through the air.
“I must warn you, this chicken has been known to cause people to fight over the last pieces,” Joy said.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Applebottom inquired, eyeing the chicken curiously.
“Indeed,” Joy replied. “Thomas can hardly keep himself from sneaking into the kitchen whenever Margaret cooks this recipe.”
“Margaret does have a magic touch with chicken,” Thomas chimed in.
“Ah, then we are in for a treat!” Mr. Applebottom exclaimed.
As they ate, Joy regaled them with lighthearted tales of her escapades at the orphanage, each story punctuated by her laughter and the delighted chuckles of her guests. “And there I was, apron full of squirming kittens, trying to convince the children that the kitchen is not the place for them.”
“Good heavens!” Mrs. Applebottom gasped, her lips twitching in amusement as she envisioned the scene. “And what became of the kittens?”
“Adopted, every last one,” Joy beamed. “Though I dare say, they left their little paw prints all over our hearts—and the pantry!”
“Charming!” Mr. Applebottom declared, dabbing his mouth with a napkin as he leaned back in his chair.
“How wonderful,” agreed Mrs. Applebottom.
As dessert was served—a decadent apple tart, naturally—Joy told of her latest gardening adventure, involving an ill-timed encounter with a child holding a watering can.
“Water everywhere, and not a drop on the tomatoes!” she said with a laugh. She neglected to mention that her legs were covered in mud by the end because she knew Thomas wouldn’t approve. “It was a big mess, but no one minded too much because the child with the watering can was doing her very best. And the tomatoes were picked just this morning, and they did beautifully.”
By the end of the evening, the Applebottoms were completely charmed with Joy and her tales of helping at the orphanage.
“Mrs. Worthington,” Mrs. Applebottom said, “you have turned what I anticipated to be a rather ordinary evening into something quite exceptional.”
“Joy has a special way of doing that,” Thomas added fondly.
“Yes, she does,” Mr. Applebottom agreed, raising his glass in a toast. “To unexpected joys and delightful company.”
After they were gone, Thomas looked over at Joy. “I don’t know how you did that. They were so angry when you weren’t ready when they arrived, but they loved you by the end of the evening.”
“Stories about children make everyone happy,” Joy said, smiling.
Thomas wasn’t so certain, but he simply hugged her to him. She really did bring everyone joy.
