“That didn’t strike you as awfully one-sided to you?”
“It struck me as real. Truthful. I’d far rather a man tell me his limitations than pretend he’s open to all kinds of things, when it’s not true.”
“Life on a ranch is hard. Joe will always spend more time with the land, than with you.”
“My dad was up at four thirty every morning to milk the cows, and was in bed early after the evening milking. There weren’t a lot of vacations because he couldn’t leave the cows, or the milking, to anyone else.”
“Your mom didn’t mind?”
“My mom viewed herself as his business partner. She knew when she married him that it was a family dairy. She knew that Dad had been raised in that house and that once he married, he’d raise his kids in the same house. If I was a boy, my kids would be growing up on the same property, too.”
“So your grandparents shared the same house?”
“They built another house on the property for themselves. After she was done raising kids, Grandma wanted something a little nicer, with more creature comforts, so Grandpa built her a custom house giving her everything she ever wanted.”
Mrs. Wyatt studied Sophie for a long moment. “We don’t have a fancy house. We don’t have anything modern. Joe wants to build something for himself one day, at least, that’s always been his plan, but he hasn’t even started. If you end up with him, you’re going to be living with me and his grandfather, and then when Joe’s brothers come home, they fill the place up. You won’t have a lot of privacy.”
“I didn’t have a lot of privacy growing up. There were five of us kids.”
“So why aren’t you there now?”
Mrs. Wyatt was relentless, but Sophie wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Because you don’t take a dairy and divide it five ways. We always knew my oldest brother John would take over from my dad, and he has. My brother Michael works with him, too, but my other brother has become a lawyer. My sister”—Sophie broke off and drew a breath—“she just recently married and is enjoying being a newlywed.”
“What does she do?”
“She was a preschool teacher for a couple years but isn’t working right now.”
“Did you like your job?”
“I did.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I’m taking a break from it. But they’d hired me back if I wanted to return.”
“You quit your job to come here?”
“I was already looking for something else.”
“Why?”
“I’d been there since college. Change is good.”
Summer reached for her cane, bringing it closer to her legs. “California dairy folks are Portuguese or Dutch. I take it you’re from a Portuguese family.”
“I am.”
“This fruit farm, fruit company, you worked for, were they also Portuguese?”
Sophie hid her surprise. “Yes.”
“Will it be a problem for your family that Joe isn’t Portuguese?”
“No.” Sophie saw Mrs. Wyatt’s expression, and she shook her head firmly. “When I marry, it’s going to be someone that’s right for me, not necessarily right for my family.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted but, before she could say anything, Joe appeared. “Dinner is ready and on the table,” he said. “Come eat before it’s cold.”
Joe helped his mom to her feet and escorted her to her chair before pulling out Sophie’s chair at the dining room table. “You survived the inquisition?” he asked under his breath as she sat down.
“Everything is fine,” she reassured him. “But will it be when we tell them about the engagement?”
“Leave it to me,” he answered. “I’ll bring it up when I think the time is right, I promise.”
He kept his word. They got through dinner with Joe and his grandfather doing most of the talking, discussing weather and if the predicted storm would really come to pass.
Sophie could barely eat, though, thinking about their announcement and wondering how his grandfather and mother would respond. But finally dinner was over and Joe poured cups of coffee and they were sitting at the table when Joe bluntly announced that he and Sophie were engaged.
“I asked her to marry me Sunday night, and she said yes,” he added. “We’re not interested in a long engagement, either.” He looked at Sophie. “Have you shown them your ring?”
“No, but I’d love to,” she said, shyly drawing the ring from her pocket and sliding it on her finger. She turned her hand around so they could see the flash of fire in the diamond. “It’s a beautiful ring.”
For a moment, there was stunned silence and then Mrs. Wyatt asked, “Do your brothers know?”
“No, you’re the first we’ve told,” Joe answered, which was true.
Silence stretched and then Melvin Wyatt got to his feet, came around the table, and kissed Sophie on the cheek. “Congratulations,” he said. “Looking forward to having you join the family.” He stopped by Joe’s chair, and clasped him on the shoulder before stepping out of the room.
Sophie felt strangely moved by Melvin Wyatt’s congratulations and kiss. It was kind, and it felt sincere. Mrs. Wyatt on the other hand looked as if she’d been turned to stone.
Her expression was completely frozen.
Mrs. Wyatt finally spoke. “You two barely know each other.”
“It just feels right, Mom,” Joe answered, reaching out to cover Sophie’s hand with his. “And I know it’s going to be a change having Sophie here, but it will be a good change.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s brow lowered and her gaze rested for a long moment on Sophie before she sighed. “We will see, won’t we?”
*
Joe made Sophie a cup of peppermint tea and told her to take a seat at the kitchen table while he cleaned up. “I’d feel guilty watching you work,” she protested.
He pulled out a chair for her, and stood there until she took it. “No need to feel guilty if you’re keeping me company. Usually, I’m in here on my own.”
“Do you always do the dishes?” she asked as he quickly, efficiently, scraped and washed.
“Yes.”
“Even though you cook?”
He covered the remaining lasagna with foil and put it in the fridge. “Yes.”
She propped her elbows on the table. “What about the nights you meet me for dinner?”
“I make dinner before I go.”
She blinked, shocked. “Every time?”
“It’s easier for them.”
“And harder for you.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to make more work for my mom and grandfather.”
“I had no idea.”
“I’ve enjoyed our dinners out. I get tired of my own cooking.” He quickly buffed the silverware dry and put those away as well. “And your lasagna was fantastic. Better than Rocco’s.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but not true.”
“Take a compliment, Sophie. Let me be impressed.”
She glanced around the tidied kitchen. Joe had made very quick work with cleanup. “I’m the one that’s impressed by you. You work all day outside and then come in and take care of everything inside, too.”