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credit, okay?”
    It was Nealy’s turn to deflate. “You’re right, Emmie. I’m sorry. Do what you think is right. I think I might know a jockey for you. He isn’t a jockey yet, but I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the young man I have in mind is the answer to your prayers. He’ll be here shortly. I’m going to be staying on for a while to train him.”
    â€œYou’re staying!” Emmie exclaimed. Her face wore a mixture of expressions Hatch couldn’t define.
    The grinding in Hatch’s stomach picked up its tempo.
    â€œIs that going to be a problem, Emmie?” Nealy asked quietly as she correctly interpreted the look on her daughter’s face.
    â€œNo. As long as you don’t interfere with the way I do things. I have a system, Mom, and it isn’t like yours. Things aren’t the same around here since you left. Smitty is gone, but her replacement is just as good. We have a new housekeeper, and Gabby has a nanny who lives in. I don’t go to bed at eight o’clock and get up at four like you did. I have reliable, dependable help I can count on. I have a life outside the farm.”
    â€œI see,” Nealy said, actually seeing more than she had bargained for. “No, Emmie, I won’t interfere.” Nealy turned to Hatch, her eyes bright with tears. “I guess it’s true, you can’t go home again no matter how much you love that home,” she whispered so that only her husband could hear the words. Hatch draped his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture as they made their way up to the house.
    In the kitchen, Nealy looked around. It was different, as was the person standing at the stove. She felt uncertain, unwanted, and out of place when she walked over to the counter where the coffeepot stood. It was empty. She was about to reach up into the cabinet for the coffee can when the housekeeper fixed her with a steely glare. “What is it you want, ma’am, and might I ask who you are, walking into my kitchen?”
    Nealy bristled. “I was going to make some coffee. I’m Emmie’s mother and I own this place. This is my husband Hatch, Mrs. Zoloff, and I’m Nealy. We’re going to be staying on for a while.”
    â€œI’ll make you some coffee, ma’am. I don’t like people being in my kitchen when I’m working. You can sit in the dining room, and I’ll fetch the coffee when it’s ready.”
    Nealy nodded as she backed out of the kitchen. “I think we’ll wait on the front porch instead.”
    On the porch, settled in Maud’s old rocker, Nealy drew her knees up to her chest. “This isn’t going to work, is it, Hatch?” She stared off into the distance, her shoulders shaking.
    â€œI don’t know, Nealy. Things seem to be a bit different. We talked about this when you turned the farm over to Emmie. Are you thinking you made a mistake in coming back here, honey?”
    Nealy looked at the wilted geraniums in their white baskets. Most of the leaves were yellow, and even from where she was sitting, she could tell the soil was dry. Smitty had always watered the plants when she forgot. She looked around. The porch was dirty, in need of a good scrubbing. Even the chair she was sitting on was dirty. She fought the urge to cry. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Obviously, Emmie isn’t overworked although she looks tired to me. She doesn’t run around the way I remember. The truth is, she trudges. It’s almost like she’s in pain or something. Why didn’t she water these plants? I guess ‘this life’ she has doesn’t include such mundane things as watering plants. The porch needs painting. So do all the windows. It’s only been a year, Hatch. I feel . . . betrayed. Is that the right word?”
    â€œNealy, maybe the porch, the flowers, the cleaning, and the painting aren’t as important to Emmie as