Vintage Ladybug Farm by Donna Ball Read Free Book Online Page B

married, it would be legitimately considered antique?”
    “Bridget’s Fiesta ware is antique,” Lindsay pointed out, “worth a fortune. And she got it with Green Stamps.”
    “Remember Green Stamps?” Again, Cici’s smile was wistful.
    “Of course not,” said Lindsay, sipping her chocolate. “I wasn’t even born.”
    Cici gave her a dry look. “Well, I remember my mother using them.”
    “A lot of wineries have restaurants on the premises,” said Bridget speculatively. “Remember, girls, all those great little cafes we visited in Sonoma? They were all attached to wineries.”
    The other two looked at her.
    “Well,” said Bridget a little defensively, “if Ida Mae could cook for heads of state, I don’t know why I can’t.”
    Lindsay said, “I don’t either.”
    And Cici lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you were happy making goat soap.”
    Bridget tilted her head. “The Tasting Table,” she said thoughtfully. “Cute name for a restaurant, don’t you think?”
    Cici grinned, and so did Lindsay, and they lifted their mugs in salute to Bridget.
    “What a year this is going to be,” Lindsay said and settled back in her chair with a small, anticipatory shake of her head.
    “And just when I was starting to get comfortable,” said Bridget, sighing a little.
    “You know where all the comfortable people are,” said Cici.
    “In the rest home?”
    “In the cemetery.”
    “Oh, that makes me feel so much better.”
    “Good,” said Cici, smiling and leaning back in her chair. “Because I feel better, too.”
     
    ~*~

 
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
     
    The Importance of a Strong Start
     
     
     
    T he roofer arrived promptly at 8:30 a.m. on January second. And on the third. And on the fourth. Each day he stayed approximately forty-five minutes, during which time he might walk back and forth on the lawn, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and gazing up at the problem, or talk on his cell phone, or string a tape measure from one end of the porch to the other. Then he brought a friend, and the two of them walked back and forth, gazing up at the damage and talking it over. Once, he even climbed a ladder, only to climb back down again, get in his truck, and drive off.
    Cici managed to catch him on the third visit.
    “Well, you got yourself a complicated situation,” he told her, once again rubbing his chin as he pondered the bright blue tarp that still covered the hole in the roof. “A house this old, you can’t just go tearing in there without knowing what you’re doing.”
    “I understand that.” Cici, who only had time to pull on a sweater before she rushed out into the cold, stood beside him on the lawn and hugged her arms to warm them. She tried to sound patient and reasonable. Long ago she had learned that the laborers in this county had no respect for pushy women. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t even taken the tarp off to look at the damage.”
    “Well, now you don’t want to go tearing things off before you’re ready to start putting them back on. What if there was to come a storm?”
    Patience , Cici reminded herself. Reason . “Couldn’t you at least give us an estimate?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, equally as reasonably. “Just as soon as I can get up there and have a look around.”
    She managed to keep her expression pleasant, her tone level. “And when do you think that might be?”
    “Well …” He gazed upward, considering the situation. “First, I’m going to have to tear off the tiles, see how bad the decking looks all around there. My guess, you’ve got more than one weak spot. Then I’ll have to check how far back the damage to the beams goes …”
    “Wait.” Cici flung up a hand. “Just wait.” She took a breath. “Do you mean to tell me you’re going to have to tear off our roof before you can even give us an estimate?”
    “Well … Yes, ma’am. I reckon that’s about right.”
    Now it was Cici’s turn to consider the roof, gazing long and