The sight of the homestead struck Thomas more profoundly than he’d anticipated. The wooden slats of the house were worn and sun-bleached, windows patched here and there with paper where glass should have been. He’d realized she hadn’t grown up with wealth as he had, but he hadn’t realized her family was quite as poor as they obviously were.
“Your childhood home?” he asked.
“Yep, every creaky floorboard and leaky roof tile,” Joy said. “It’s not much, but it’s filled with love and laughter.”
Thomas suddenly felt as if the Worthington mansion, with its grand halls and beautiful decor, was sterile in comparison to this living, breathing home.
“Love and laughter...” he mused aloud. “Perhaps that’s the true wealth.” Joy carried with her a happiness he’d never seen in another person. Perhaps money wasn’t the way to feeling fulfilled and happy.
“Come on,” she urged with a smile, tugging him toward the front door. “My mama is probably looking out the window at us, wondering if we’re going to stand here like a couple of statues all day.”
As they approached, the screen door swung open, and a chorus of voices welcomed them. Joy squealed as she saw her younger sister, Ida Mae, and hugged her close. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”
Ida Mae stared at Joy for a moment. “You don’t look much like my sister, but you sure sound like her. You should change into something more comfortable while you’re here. No point in ruining that dress.”
Joy laughed, and the sound seemed to fill the entire house. “Unless I’m out milking the cows or slopping the pigs, I think this will be just fine.”
Ida Mae sighed. “I think you should change. I can’t look at you that way and think of you as my sister.”
Thomas watched in quiet amazement as Joy deftly slipped away, only to reappear moments later dressed in an old, sun-faded dress that clung to her like a second skin. The transformation was startling.
“Ready for the real fun?” she chirped, her hands on her hips as she flashed him a mischievous grin.
“Define ‘fun,’” he replied.
“Come along,” she beckoned, leading Thomas to the barn where the cows awaited. She settled onto a stool beside a large spotted cow and began milking. Each squirt of milk into the pail seemed to pull her further from him.
“City hands could never,” she teased over her shoulder.
“Is that a challenge, Mrs. Worthington?” Thomas asked, rolling up his sleeves with mock determination. His attempt at milking was less than successful—eliciting laughs from Joy and a disdainful moo from the cow.
She demonstrated the right way to do it for him, and slowly, he grasped the concept and finished milking Bessie, who was the daughter of a cow that had once been painted purple by Joy’s older siblings.
“You did it!” Joy said, excited that he’d even been willing to try. He was out of his element, but he seemed to be taking it all in stride.
A litter of kittens tumbled across the barn floor, their tiny mews filling the air with innocence. Joy sat on the ground, allowing the furry babies to climb over her, their claws catching in the fabric of her dress as she giggled.
“You’re truly happy,” Thomas murmured. “You’re like a different person here.”
“Maybe this is the real me,” she said, a kitten perched precariously on her shoulder.
It was hard for him to reconcile the girl who had managed to get much of Boston society eating out of her hand with the woman who was enjoying sitting on the floor of a barn covered in kittens.
They made their way back to the house, just in time for supper. The kitchen was warm and fragrant, a stark contrast to the orderly, impersonal culinary operations back at the Worthington estate. Joy’s mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot of something that seemed to be little more than broth and vegetables.
“Smells delightful, Mrs. Miller,” Thomas offered, his stomach rumbling.
“Nothing fancy, just some garden stew,” her mother replied, placing a steaming bowl before him with a nurturing smile. “Eat up. It’ll warm your bones.”
“Who knew carrots could taste so sweet,” he remarked, chasing another bite with a piece of crusty bread.
“Everything’s sweeter when it’s grown with love,” Joy answered. “That’s our secret ingredient.”
“Then consider me thoroughly charmed by the Miller family recipe,” Thomas said.
As they ate, Joy watched him with her family, realizing he fit in better than she’d imagined he would. She couldn’t help but feel proud of her banker from Boston.
“Mama, one of the reasons we came is to tell you we’re expecting.”
