“Damn,” said a chirpy voice behind me. “Got any more openings? You pay better than my corporate overlords.”

Audrey was listening in on my little HR speech, and I didn’t know quite how to feel about that. I paid my employees as well as I possibly could, though nobody was getting rich working here. Least of all me.

“That’s fine. All of it,” my newest employee said. He looked older than his twenty-two years. He had tired eyes. “Where should I put this?” He patted his gym bag.

“That’s all you’ve got with you?” I asked, eyeing it.

“That’s all I’ve got, period.” He lifted his chin, challenging me to say anything else on the matter.

“No problem. Let me show you the bunkhouse.”

But first my mother wanted a word. I saw her come out of the back door, her apron on, crossing the yard purposefully to where we all stood around Angelo’s car. I waited while she fussed over Angelo and greeted Jude. “Honey,” she said to this ex-con whom she’d never met before, “I checked every corner of our house and didn’t find any medication stronger than aspirin. Angelo asked me to do that for you. He said it was easier if you didn’t have to wonder.”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, studying at his shoes. “Appreciate it.”

I glanced toward the bunkhouse. God only knew what somebody might have left in that bathroom. “I should check the…”

“Already did it,” my mother said quickly. “You might want to clean that shower more often. There are scarier things than narcotics in there.”

Audrey giggled while I cringed.

“I’m Ruth Shipley,” my mother said to our uninvited corporate raider. “And you’re…”

“Audrey Kidder. I swung by to ask Griff about buying apples and cider for a group of restaurants in Boston.”

“Oh!” Mom clasped her hands as if the queen herself had just dropped by. “Will you stay for lunch?” She ignored the look of menace that I aimed in her direction.

“I would love to!” Audrey enthused. “Especially since my car is in a ditch at the bottom of your road.”

“Not true,” I said quickly. Even as we spoke, I could see the Prius turning slowly up the drive. Zach had already swapped out the tire—although it was likely the spare was a donut, so Princess Perky’s troubles weren’t exactly solved.

“Wow,” she said, her voice awed. “He’s a miracle worker.”

“He is,” I admitted, even if it was just a tire change. “Shoulda been working miracles on my fence instead of your car, though.”

“August Griffin Shipley,” my mother demanded. “Where are your manners? Since when do you not go to the aid of a stranger?”

I would have preferred that Audrey was a stranger. Not that I’d say so out loud.

May socked me in the shoulder. “Grumpy much? Take Jude to the bunkhouse already, because lunch will be ready soon. Brisket sandwiches and potato salad. Come with us, Audrey,” my sister the traitor said. “We’ll pour you some iced tea.”