before she did him any more harm. But there was no avoiding it. She’d taught the children to be kind and polite. An apple cake would be a nice gesture indeed.
“That’s a perfect idea, Jane. I’m so proud of you for suggesting it.”
Jane’s face brightened like a newly lit lamp, making Brenna glad she hadn’t squelched Jane’s thoughtfulness to cover her own anxieties. Mr. Hutton would just have to get used to the idea of living next door to them. Who knew? Maybe he’d grow to like them.
Jane started for the kitchen. “I’ll take Maddie and go pick the apples while you get the oven heated, Penny. You’re the only one allowed to use matches.”
“We’ll help you pick,” Stevie said. He grasped his foster brother by the arm and headed for the door. “I was first to find out about Mr. Hutton. I bet he likes to whittle. He might even want me to show him how to make a super-duper slingshot.”
Prichard nodded. “I bet he will, Stevie. We both can ask him.”
Brenna stood back and watched the scene unfold. Mr. Hutton wouldn’t know what hit him. She could see the whole thing in her mind’s eye, and would have giggled if she weren’t so worried. Well, that was just too bad. If he wanted to be grumpy, so be it.
In the kitchen, she tied her apron around her waist, and then gathered the ingredients for the pastries she owed Hannah at the Silky Hen. She set up her space, leaving ample room for the children and their teacher-welcoming project, thinking how much her life had changed since Hannah had employed her as a baker. She had persevered through the tough times and now God had rained his blessings on her. With her baking and sewing, she’d learned she was capable indeed. Others depended on her, even if only for a few pies for the Silky Hen. She was making a difference, and that fact made a difference to her.
Penny loaded wood into the belly of the oven and stuffed wadded-up newspaper underneath. It seemed the idea of her teacher living across the street had lost its sting. With the other children outside, now was the perfect time for a mother-daughter talk.
“You’re ready for school on Monday?” School was always foremost in Penny’s mind. Learning came easy to her. “It’ll be here before you know it.”
Finished with the stove, Penny washed her hands and picked up the towel. “I think so, Mama. I just have my new skirt to hem.”
Penny was growing up. Her tight bodices attested to that fact. Sometimes the blueness of her eyes and the expression they held reminded Brenna so much of Carl, it could render her speechless. They’d been happy, Carl working for Win at the livery and her with a new baby practically every year. They’d had little money but a lot of love. Then, six years ago, he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse and killed instantly. His loss still made her ache.
She’d been lucky to have friends who looked out for her and her children. Just last week, they’d received several items of clothing from Hannah Donovan and Jessie Logan. She and Penny had worked feverishly to alter them to fit. Now both girls would have a new dress and one new skirt and blouse each for the school year.
Brenna took the sack of flour from the drawer and reached for her well-used measuring cups. “That’s wonderful. I appreciate your help with Jane’s skirt.”
Altering the boys’ clothes was her job. She’d worked late each evening stitching the pants and shirts. They were a bit more difficult since the hand-me-downs came from Gabe Garrison, the young man who lived with Chase and Jessie Logan and was almost grown. The dress Jessie had sent for Maddie appeared brand new, and by the size of it, must still fit Sarah, Jessie’s daughter. When Brenna had objected, Jessie had insisted that she take it, saying Sarah hadn’t cottoned to it, and it had hung unused in her daughter’s wardrobe for far too long. The garment was perfect for Maddie. How could anyone argue with that?
The front door