Chapter 27
D alia didn’t want to think about the mystery of her birth. She didn’t want to think about that miserable trailer she’d scoured. She didn’t want to think about Agnes Singleton. And she wasn’t ready to talk about her disastrous afternoon in Amberton and ending up in jail.
All she wanted to do was relax and have a good time with Brody. It was time for her to get to know him better. Well, something other than his sexual preferences. After all, he knew just about everything about her, everything except the dilemma of where she came from. But she didn’t even know that.
Nervousness set in as she got ready. Rose, ever astute, watched curiously. The little girl shoved at her glasses, even though they’d stopped at the optometrist’s office and had them adjusted so they fit perfectly. Pushing at her spectacles had become a habit.
“Mommy, how come you aren’t putting on a red dress and red lipstick?”
“What makes you ask that?” Dalia sat at her bedroom vanity table at the mirror, running her pinky over the edges of the pink lipstick she’d applied.
“That’s what ladies on TV do when they’re gonna go on a bait.”
Dalia snickered. “Honey, it’s a ‘date.’ Although, bait might be a better description. And I’m not on TV. And I don’t like red.” Not anymore , she thought, an image of her former tawdry dancing costume popping into her head uninvited and unwanted.
“Oh. Huh. You got some big loopy earrings?” Rose twirled her finger in a circle around her ear. “They wear those, too.”
The mom adjusted the simple pearl earrings she wore and pointed at them.
“Oh. Well,” Rose sighed, “maybe he’ll kiss you anyway. I know he wants to. ‘Member? I saw him at the market.”
“Yes, I remember. And that isn’t anything you need to worry about.”
The chime of the doorbell downstairs echoed throughout the house.
“He’s here! I’ll let him in.” Rose ran downstairs, Rover barking at her heels.
Dalia stood up and checked herself out in her full-length mirror.
Her casual, short-sleeved summer dress seemed perfect for the occasion of dinner and a movie.
She’d almost put on the sneakers he’d teasingly admired but went with a pair of cute, strappy sandals instead.
After fluffing her hair, she grabbed a sweater and headed for the stairs.
On the way down she heard Rose making excuses for her.
“She doesn’t have any red lipstick, I guess. But you’ll like her anyway.”
Brody’s warm chuckle touched Dalia’s heart. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs Mama had come out of the kitchen.
“Hello Brody,” Mamie said cheerfully. “It’s so good to see you. I’d offer you something to eat, but I know you’re about to go to dinner.”
Dalia said, “She feeds everybody. And we’re all lucky for it.”
Brody’s eyes lit up as they fell on her. “You look beautiful. In spite on the lack of red lipstick.”
Rose nodded knowingly. Mamie laughed. Rover sniffed Brody’s shoes.
“Mamie, you have a magnificent farm.” Brody turned his attention to the matriarch of the family. “This is a beautiful early-century house. I’ve heard so many people talk about how much they love coming here to pick up their baked goods.”
“We plan to bring the same atmosphere to our new bakery.” Mamie’s pride in their plans radiated from her smile.
“I heard about that. Congratulations. As I told Dalia, let me know what I can do to help. I’ll do anything to have donuts handy every morning.”
He turned his attention to Dalia, who took his arm. “Shall we go?” he asked.
“We shall.”
They said their goodbyes and left, with Mamie making Rose stay inside with her. Stepping off the porch, Brody stopped and looked around. “I can see why you love this farm, Dalia.”
“Thank you. I do love it. It’s been in my dad’s family for generations.”
He pointed at a grove of trees. “Those are apple trees but what are the other ones?”
“Pears. Northern Spy apples and Bartlett pears, both excellent for baking.”
“Did I hear sheep?”
“Yes. I sheer them and sell the raw wool.”
“And there are chickens, I see,” he noted as they sauntered to his Ford.
“Of course. I love my chickens. We need lots of eggs for baking.”
“So, you’re a farm girl at heart.”
He’d opened the door for her but she paused to peer up into his face. “That’s right. Heart and soul.” If he didn’t like that, it would be best to know now.
“I like that,” he said.
She smiled, and he held her hand as she stepped onto the running board and into the lofty vehicle.
As they drove away, Rose looked out the living room window, watching them go. She lamented to her grandmother, “I dunno if he’s gonna kiss her.”
“Why would he not?”
“She doesn’t have any red lipstick.”
“Huh. Well, maybe he’ll at least hold her hand. How’s that?”
The girl shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Although, she’d watched enough TV soap operas with her grandma to know better. Holding hands would never do.