The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) by Mary Ellis Read Free Book Online Page B

during the past four weeks than in all her life previously put together. “Leah Miller,” she murmured, “but I wish you hadn’t said oddball cheese to your mamm.”
    “But that’s what you called it, Miss Miller.”
    “I know I did, but only because I’d forgotten the right word.” She was growing exasperated.
    “Artisan?” he asked. “That’s what the advertisement calls it.” He remained cool with a voice as silky as water flowing over smooth rocks.
    “Jah, that’s it. Why use such a fancy word?”
    “My grandmother says English people like big words, so you could charge an extra dollar per pound by giving it a fancy name.”
    Leah stopped on the path even though her boss and the cheese-maker had disappeared from sight. “That doesn’t sound like a nice thing to do.”
    “I said you could charge it, not that we do. Are you saying my mammi’s not a nice person?” He cocked his head to the side.
    “Hush,” she begged, “before you get me fired. I really like this job. I’m sure she is the nicest woman in Holmes County.” Leah felt as though she were baling out a leaky rowboat. “Could you please go back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted you?”
    “I thought I would help load the cheese order.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
    “No, I’ll do that. If you help anymore, I’ll be looking for another job. Please?”
    “All right, but only because you said ‘please,’ Leah Miller.” He turned and walked away.
    Leah watched until he disappeared inside the barn. How does one develop such a calm demeanor? She certainly didn’t posses one as she ran all the way to the house. She was breathless by the time she found the door to the walkout basement.
    April and Mrs. Byler were already carrying out boxes of cheese. “There you are,” April said. “We feared you’d gotten lost again. Why don’t you just close the door behind us? We have this handled.”
    She did as instructed, but Leah didn’t stop perspiring during the entire drive back to the diner, despite the truck’s air-conditioning being on full blast.

     
    Emma wouldn’t get used to the Davis family kitchen if she lived there another ten years. So many unnecessary gadgets and appliances. Her mother-in-law owned a food processor, a bread machine, and a coffee grinder. Emma could chop up a head of cabbage for coleslaw in less time than it took to clean the processor. The bread machine was just plain silly unless your hands were too crippled to knead the dough, like her mamm’s. Her own hands were strong and flexible. And the coffee grinder? Whole beans cost more than coffee already ground up and sold in a can. Why would people pay more for extra work when she couldn’t tell any difference in the taste?
    Barbara Davis was very patient and kind to Emma, but she preferred to run her own kitchen…unless she was assigned extra hours at the hospital where she worked as a nurse. Then she would merrily announce at breakfast, “It’s Emma’s turn to cook tonight. We’re in for a treat!” But Mrs. Davis usually had a pot of something she’d prepared over the weekend and then frozen. Emma’s specialty had become heating things up, tossing salads, and steaming vegetables. She had no competition in the kitchen from James’ sister. Lily had little interest in cooking, even when she was home from vet school on break.
    Emma loved being married because she loved her husband so much. If he could give up his English clothes and truck, she could adjust to living with his parents until he saved enough to build their own house. Mr. Davis had paid a surveyor to stake off ten acres of farmland for their wedding gift. Some day she would have her own home, and it would contain a minimum of electrical appliances.
    One gadget allowed in New Order districts that she did like was a cell phone. With a farm as large as Hollyhock, you couldn’t very well holler out the window when it was time to eat. James had bought her a matching phone