“No, no, Harper. She’s not allowed to have cheese. Too much F-A-T,” Belle explained, spelling the word out like something obscene. “Logan can have a piece, though.”

The girl’s face turned red. I smiled pleasantly at Belle, aware of Carl, hovering with the bread. “If you want a healthy snack for your children, you can’t do better than goat cheese. Goat’s milk is lower in fat than cow’s milk. High in protein. And of course natural cheese doesn’t have all those nasty emulsifiers and extenders and hydrogenated oils you find in other cheese products.”

“How do you know all that?” Belle asked.

I’d looked it up on Google. “You forget, I grew up on a farm.”

“We-ell . . . I suppose a little taste wouldn’t hurt.”

I handed the kids samples and was rewarded with shy smiles.

“I’ll see you at Sallie’s tonight?” Belle asked.

I nodded. “Looking forward to it. I thought I’d bring some of the marinated feta.”

“Oh, I think she’s got the food covered.” Belle laughed. “Although, why not? We big girls need our healthy snacks, too.”

“I always had fantasies about dating a farmer’s daughter,” Carl said when she’d gone.

I laughed. “Oh, please.”

“It’s true.” He shifted out of my way so I could slice more bread. “I had a terrible crush on you in high school.”

“You didn’t even know me in high school.”

“You didn’t know me. I was only a freshman. Everybody knew you—the pretty senior on the homecoming court.”

I turned my head, surprised and suddenly uncertain.

He winked. “Not that I would have done anything about it then.”

I blushed. Not that I would do anything about it now. But it was nice to be, well, remembered. Noticed.

“So how about it?” Carl asked.

I stared at him blankly.

“The job,” he said. “Doing our books. It’s yours if you want it.”

Temptation tugged. I’d always liked adding things up. Numbers in columns. Problems with solutions. I shook my head. “I’ve never kept books for a business before. You must know somebody more qualified.”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “There’s just me now, and I can’t run the farm and do all the paperwork.”

“I’m sorry,” I said regretfully. “Between the twins . . . and Momma . . . I really don’t have the time.”

“Could you at least maybe take a look? Ma’s got her own special system, half on the computer and half paper files, and I can’t make heads or tails out of any of it.”

I smiled. “Sure, I could do that. Help you get organized.”

“Great.” He beamed. “That’s just great. When can you start?”

“After the holidays?” I suggested.

“Whatever suits you. Unless you want to start now, earn a little Christmas money.”

“Oh, you don’t need to pay me.”

“Sure I do. You’re doing me a big favor.”

I opened my mouth to protest. Held out my hand instead. “It’s a deal.”

He took my hand, tugged me forward, and kissed my cheek.