Liz Ireland
“The smell alone nearly knocked her out, but nothing prepared her for the shelves and shelves of preserved apples and bottles and jugs of apple vinegar, applejack and apple cider. Apples were practically piled up to the rafters.
“You do all this?” she asked, half in awe, half in horror. No wonder the man had a distracted look. She wondered that he had time to sleep!
His cheeks colored ever so slightly, and he raised his head with modest pride. “Well now…I wouldn’t say all by myself. My nephews a...nd Ike come over when they can and help me with the picking. That’s the onerous part, especially for an old soul like me.”
She smiled. “You’re not old—I’ll bet you’re the best picker of them all.”
“No, that would be Roy,” Ed said with a reverent nod toward his nephew, who was caught in the middle of the act of busting into a jug of applejack.
Roy had taken no pains to conceal the fact that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see Ellie. Now, apparently, he was going to try to drown out her presence with alcohol.MoreLess
“You do all this?” she asked, half in awe, half in horror. No wonder the man had a distracted look. She wondered that he had time to sleep!
His cheeks colored ever so slightly, and he raised his head with modest pride. “Well now…I wouldn’t say all by myself. My nephews a...nd Ike come over when they can and help me with the picking. That’s the onerous part, especially for an old soul like me.”
She smiled. “You’re not old—I’ll bet you’re the best picker of them all.”
“No, that would be Roy,” Ed said with a reverent nod toward his nephew, who was caught in the middle of the act of busting into a jug of applejack.
Roy had taken no pains to conceal the fact that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see Ellie. Now, apparently, he was going to try to drown out her presence with alcohol.MoreLess
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