The Unplowed Sky Read Free

all the liquid till the butter was a firm, fresh-smelling mound. She scooped some into a cut-glass bowl for breakfast, glanced at the clock, and put the coffee to perk on the kerosene stove. What a blessing that would be! Fire on and off as needed without burning on the way a wood or coal stove did to make a kitchen a place of summer torment. She mixed biscuits rich with fresh cream, popped them in the oven, and sliced ham thin in a big skillet.
    If she hurried, there would be time to cut some tiger lilies for the table. The morning air was as bright and fresh as the meadowlark’s song. She felt sorry for anyone who was missing this finest part of the day—one could even say the only pleasant part in late June. The sun’s heat increased as it rose. Farmers had already been in the fields for hours.
    She was arranging the flowers in a blue-and-white pitcher when a deep male voice made her jump. “You must be Miss Hallie Meredith.”
    â€œYes, sir.” The man with tawny eyes and crisp grey hair gave the impression of filling the doorway. She had a ridiculous sense of being trapped, though when he stepped into the kitchen, she saw that he had a pleasant smile and was only average in height. “And you’d be Mr. Raford.”
    He nodded, still with that easy smile. “I’d like coffee, black, anytime it’s ready. My wife will be down soon, but I have business in town, so I’ll have breakfast as soon as you can fix it. Eggs over lightly. Should you break a yolk, fix another. Ham crisp. Toast”—he wrinkled his nose—“Do I smell biscuits?”
    â€œCream biscuits.”
    His gaze flickered to the crock of fresh butter. The practiced smile broadened to a grin. “It would seem I don’t need to instruct you, Miss Meredith.” He lazed away.
    Pernickety. And if his wife had breakfast late, Hallie would spend half the morning in the kitchen. But they were paying her, and if that’s what they wanted, they could have it—though sometime soon she’d have to see if Jackie was awake and give him his breakfast. It wouldn’t do for him to feel abandoned again. Mr. Raford was studying some papers and only nodded thanks as she brought his coffee, but by the time breakfast was ready, Hallie heard a woman’s high voice in the dining room.
    Good! Hallie hadn’t fancied sitting down with just Mr. Raford, though Mrs. Raford’s tone had just a bit of a whine. How could that be, with such a nice home and a husband who apparently let her do just as she pleased? Hallie filled a tray with ham, butter, his eggs done just so, and the fluffy golden biscuits in a napkin-covered basket.
    â€œGood morning, Mrs. Raford.” Hallie smiled at the woman with stylishly bobbed blond hair and a flowing flowered dress that couldn’t disguise raillike thinness. “How would you like your eggs? And do you want cream and sugar with your coffee?”
    Mrs. Raford winced. “No eggs, thank you. Be a dear and make me some tea.”
    Could she have a headache? Or be expecting? Hallie brewed tea in a gold-rimmed pot and placed it, with a matching cup and saucer, on a small tray.
    She set it in front of Mrs. Raford and was rewarded with a faint smile. “Wonderful biscuits, Hallie,” Mr. Raford complimented. “I’ve always believed it took years to acquire such a knack, but you must have a natural talent.”
    â€œI’ve made biscuits since I was nine. With the lovely cream you get from those Jersey cows, it’d be hard to make a bad batch. Is there anything I can get for anybody?” She was ready to pull out her chair and begin to get acquainted with these people, though she already suspected that Mrs. Raford was going to be hard to please.
    Mrs. Raford’s violet eyes widened as they stared at Hallie’s plate. “Oh, dear!” The woman’s face went pink. She glanced at her husband.
    He lavished butter on a biscuit