“What was that all about?” Fred asked.

“UFO stands for ‘unfinished objects,’ you know, like those in your workshop and mine in the sewing room.” At the arching of his eyebrows, she shrugged. “Okay, and the greenhouse, and the flower gardens, and the basement.”

“Don’t forget the barn.” He returned his attention to the paper.

“That can go on your list. We started that together.”

“Well, I can’t go any farther until you make up your mind which style you want.”

“Oh.” She’d conveniently forgotten that. Sometimes it was nice to be able to blame undone things on “I forgot.” Supposedly as one grew older, the memory lagged. His didn’t. Hers did.

Fred’s brow was puckered. “You know that chest of drawers I was working on? That’s been sitting in the corner how many years? You’re strong, but not strong enough to handle the frame while I dovetail the sides. Be nice to see that finished; the spalted maple drawers are such pretty wood.”

“I agree.” She turned off the oven and pulled out the pan of nicely browned poppy seed muffins to set on the hot pad on the counter. She put four in a napkin-lined basket and flipped the rest on their sides, still in the pan.

“You want eggs with this?” She set the basket on the table and slid into her chair. Her right hip grumped at her, a habit it seemed to be developing.

“What’s the matter?”

“The hip again,” she replied, “but too bad, I am going out to the greenhouse right after we eat.”

“You going to do something about it?”

“The greenhouse?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes and reached for a muffin. “You know what I mean.”

“I got a deal for you. I’ll talk to the doctor about this hip if you will talk to him about that episode the other day, you know, the one where you had a pain in your chest.”

“That was heartburn. I told you.”

“Right. All I ask is that you stop self-diagnosing and mention it to the one who knows more about that kind of thing than you do.”

“I told you, I’d get around to it after…” He glanced up, caught her over-the-top-of-her-glasses stare, and reached for the butter. “All right, you make an appointment for both of us and we’ll”—he put the emphasis on the plural—“go. Just don’t make it this week.”

“I will check both our calendars, but if I make it, you have to promise to go.” He’d been known to cancel for any number of reasons in the past, some of them a bit flimsy. But she had to admit, he was always busy. Not just on their place, but if anyone needed help, it was can-do-anything-that-needs-doing Fred to the rescue. She buttered her muffin and took the first bite. “Ahh.”

“They are good. How about some yogurt to go with this and maybe a bit of granola sprinkled on top?”

She smiled. “And blueberries?”

“Now that is a fine idea.”