“My great-nephew in Florida,” Mr. Jones said. “His wife is very thoughtful. And she’s quite the knitter.” To demonstrate, he wiggled his toes in their bright orange knit booties with blue and orange tassels. “These are from last year. I have two more pairs in my closet, and some scarves and an afghan and some potholders and a toilet paper cover. And a hot-water bottle cover too.”

“You’ll never be cold,” Ivy said, laughing. She stood up to leave, but Punkin stayed crouched beside the old man’s chair.

“Come, Punkin!” she called. The dog wagged his tail but stayed put.

“It’s the oddest thing,” Ivy said. “Punkin was always standoffish with strangers. Maybe because he was a rescue. He was never mean, or aggressive, but he’s always been sort of wary, if you know what I mean. But since we moved here, he seems to have lost some of his inhibitions. He’s the same way with you as my real estate agent. It’s like you’re his instant best friends.”

Mr. Jones scratched Punkin’s ears. “You’re never too old to have a new friend,” he said.

She spotted Phoebe sitting alone in a booth in the corner of the diner. The clerk looked up and waved her over.

“Join me for lunch?” the girl asked.

“Love to. I gotta admit, eating alone is my least favorite part of being single,” Ivy said.

“Mine too,” Phoebe said.

Ivy eyed the girl’s meal—black coffee, a hard-boiled egg, and three bedraggled leaves of lettuce.

“That’s all you’re having?” she asked.

The waitress arrived at their booth and Ivy ordered the day’s special—chicken and dumplings and green beans.

Phoebe sighed enviously. “Maybe I’ll just inhale when your lunch arrives.”

“I take it you’re dieting?” Ivy asked. “Pretty hard to do during the holidays.”

“It’s the worst,” Phoebe agreed. “But I’ve just got to lose ten more pounds before … you know.”

“Oh, right,” Ivy whispered. “Before you and Cody elope.”

Ivy studied her friend from across the table. “Your hair is different too. You’ve gone blond, haven’t you?”

The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s called Bombshell. You don’t think it’s too blond, right? My mom hates it.”

“I think you’re pretty just the way you are,” Ivy said. “And Cody must think so too, or he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him. Right?”

Phoebe stared down at her plate and her face colored slightly. “Well, the thing is…”

Ivy waited.

The waitress arrived at the table with Ivy’s plate of food. The chicken and dumplings were steaming and sprinkled with bits of parsley, and the green beans were flecked with chunks of bacon.

“Oh Gawwwwd,” Phoebe said, inhaling deeply. “That looks amazing.”

“It’s way more than I can eat,” Ivy said, shoving her plate toward Phoebe. “Don’t you want to share?”

“Noooo,” Phoebe said. “Don’t tempt me.” She sipped her black coffee. “Let’s not talk about food. How are things coming at Four Roses Farm? Have you made any progress finding Carlette?”