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was rude, her reaction was similar. Who cared if two old people spent every possible moment together? What harm could come of it?
    Henry pulled into the driveway and stopped alongside the front porch. Margaret hopped out and picked up the warm casserole dish from where it nestled in the floorboards between her feet. Mayfair carried a basket with a loaf of light bread, a jar of apple butter, and half a pound cake.
    “You know, we made that apple butter in the Talbot sisters’ kettle. I think just about everybody in Wise has borrowed that thing at one time or another.” Emily took Henry’s arm as they walked up onto the porch. “Knock plenty loud, Henry. She might be napping.”
    But Henry didn’t even touch the screen door before Frank was there to let them in.
    “Howdy, folks, come on in and set a spell.”
    They piled into the kitchen and draped coats over the backs of chairs, then lined their boots up near the front door. As they shed outer layers, Angie eased into the kitchen and watched.
    “I haven’t seen such a ruckus in a month of Sundays,” she said.
    Margaret was afraid they’d upset the old woman, but she smiled. “And I’m so glad. It’s been too long since people piled up in this house. Probably not since Liza passed, God rest her soul.”
    Margaret wondered if she should say she was sorry, but Lizahad been gone a while now. She settled for putting her warm dish on the table in front of Angie.
    “We brought you some chicken pie.”
    “Oh, I do enjoy chicken pie, and so does Frank.” Angie gave Frank such a warm look, Margaret almost felt uncomfortable.
    “There’s bread and pound cake, too.” She rushed the words to hide her embarrassment.
    “How nice. Frank, what if we put some of that Hershey’s syrup on the cake for dessert this evening?”
    Frank rubbed his hands together. “I always have enjoyed something sweet of an evening.” He winked and Angie swatted his arm.
    “Come on into the parlor,” she said. “We can sit and visit.”
    Once everyone settled and they had finished thoroughly discussing the weather, Frank leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees.
    “Guess I might know something that’ll be news to you’uns,” he said.
    Emily leaned forward with a smile. “Is it good news?”
    “I think so.” He looked at Angie. “Shall I tell them?”
    Angie waved a hand at nothing. “Oh, go ahead. People will talk no matter what you do. Might as well make sure they’ve got the story right.”
    Frank grinned. “I’ve asked Angie here to be my bride.” He reached out and placed a hand over hers where it rested on the arm of her chair. “And she said, ‘yes.’”
    Emily clapped her hands. “Oh, that is good news. Frank Post, it’s about time you got married.”
    He chuckled. “I reckon it’s past time, but better late than never.”
    Margaret felt something akin to distaste. They were so old. What could possibly be the point of getting married? They probably wouldn’t even live much longer. Not that she’d sayany of that out loud, but really, it was kind of embarrassing to see two wrinkled ninety-year-olds making puppy-dog eyes at each other.
    She snuck a peek at Henry. He looked about to laugh, but was holding it in. She caught his eye, and amusement passed between them. He really was kind of appealing when he wasn’t busy being mad.
    They stayed a little longer before heading home. Frank pulled Henry aside on the porch while the ladies said their good-byes. Back in the car Henry seemed pensive, but Margaret was pretty well ready to write him off as moody, so she paid him little mind.
    “What do you think about Frank and Angie getting married?” Margaret asked Emily.
    “Well, now, I think it’s a hoot. You’re never too old for love.”
    Margaret gave Emily a dubious look. “Seriously? I mean, I guess there’s nothing wrong with it, but it seems kind of silly.”
    “Silly? I don’t know that I’d call it that.” Emily smiled. “I might call it