“Surely they deliver out here?”

Ginny shrugged. “I guess. We just never bothered to order here. We usually had pizza at Sam’s. Addy and I make darn good pizza.”

“Grandma used to let me and Andy spread all the toppings. Andy always managed to eat part of the cheese and the pepperoni and she’d swat his hand with the spatula.”

“Did he learn?” Loren asked.

“To dodge the spatula, yes.”

“So, how’s your UFO coming along?” Roxie asked.

“Mine will be done fairly soon,” Ginny answered and looked at Addy.

“I’ve ripped those stitches out so many times, I think the yarn is wearing out. I think I’ll give up on it. Knitting just isn’t for me.” Addy reached for another piece of pizza and stared right back at Spook. “You know you do not eat pizza.”

Loren chuckled. “Sez who? Look at those eyes.”

“He has begging down to a science, not that it does him any good.” Ginny reached for another piece. A bird singing made her pause. “A cardinal, what a nice serenade for supper.”

“This is so peaceful. Amalia mentioned that more than once. She really enjoyed her time out here. I think she misses her farm far more than she lets on.” Roxie propped her elbows on the table and nibbled at her slice. “You know, I was thinking the other day. I read an article about shared housing and then I had two sisters who were looking for a house to buy together.”

“Shared housing, eh?”

“Yeah, there are books about it now and lots of articles. It might be something you could be interested in. I googled it and there’s plenty of information out there.” She licked some sauce off her fingertip. “Sorry.”

“No problem. That’s the way you’re supposed to eat pizza.” Ginny sipped her iced tea. Shared housing. Come to think of it, there were those women at the big Original Sewing and Quilting Show in Minneapolis one year. They were talking about the house they shared and how rewarding it was as everyone took a share of the work. Ginny was already feeling overwhelmed about keeping this place up. Might this be an answer to her prayers for the future?

Chapter Twenty

You going to the morning group again?” Ginny’s voice on the phone asked.

“Planning on it.” Amalia laid her knitting down in her lap so she could hold the phone without her neck cramping from positioning it between shoulder and head. “Why?”

The breeze tickled bare skin, since she was only wearing a tank top and shorts and sitting out on her lanai with her feet up on the other chair. In all the pots surrounding her, plants were growing so fast she could almost measure them. The two tomatoes were nearing the height of the black iron railing. The fuchsia hanging from the ceiling fed several hummingbirds every day, and the pot of ruby penstemon was part of that feeding frenzy. She had affixed a trellis to the wall for the cucumbers to grow up. Most things she could buy at the farmer’s market, but she could eat the lemon cucumbers like an apple with a ripe tomato for dessert.