Read Vintage Ladybug Farm for Free Online

country.
    Ida Mae cast a sour look at Bridget. “It’s all Miss Priss’s doing. I believe in eating food the way God made it, and that means not trying to turn a chicken into a pig or milk into water. And if you can choke down them grits without butter or salt, you just let me know how you do it.”
    Cici suppressed a grin and Paul quickly pulled out a chair for Ida Mae. “All right, everyone, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
    Ida Mae sniffed and started to turn away. “Like I got nothing better to do than sit around jawing the morning away with the bunch of you.” Then she hesitated, eyeing the feast that was spread out before them, and conceded, “Well, maybe I will have just a bite of ham biscuit.”
    She sat, and there was a happy confusion of scraping chairs and snapping napkins and exclamations of appreciation as dishes were passed and plates were filled. “So how did you guys ever get an architect to come all the way out here on New Year’s Day?” Bridget inquired, gamely spooning grits without butter or salt onto her plate.
    “He’s a friend,” Derrick replied, discreetly passing the bowl of grits to Paul without taking any. “He understands about feng shui.”
    Paul passed the grits on to Cici. “Also, we paid extra.”
    Cici passed the grits to Lindsay without even glancing at them, then helped herself to the French toast. “What feng shui?”
    “You know.” Lindsay hid the bowl of grits between the fruit salad and the chicken sausage, reaching for the ham platter. “Whatever you start on New Year’s Day always ends well. It’s good luck.”
    “Like Farley and his greens,” suggested Bridget.
    “That ain’t it.” Ida Mae slathered her ham biscuit with butter. “Everybody knows that whatever you’re doing on New Year’s Day is what you’re gonna spend the rest of the year doing.”
    Paul looked uncertainly at Derrick. “I really don’t want to spend a whole year on this house.”
    “Don’t worry,” Derrick assured him. “A good builder can build a 3500-square-foot home in a hundred twenty days.”
    “Add two months to that,” advised Cici.
    Paul did some quick calculating. “Still, that’s only six months. That’s not bad. We can move in by June.” His eyes brightened with excitement. “We can give Lori an engagement party by the pool!”
    “Pool?” Lindsay said.
    “It’s going to be gorgeous,” Derrick said. “Flagstone lined, two waterfalls, a fern grotto, and swim up bar. Salt water, of course.”
    “And solar heated,” added Paul.
    “Wow.” Lindsay put the biscuit she was about to eat back on her plate. “If I’m going to fit into a swimsuit by June, I’d better start now.”
    “Feng shui,” Cici felt compelled to point out politely, “doesn’t really have anything to do with New Year’s Day.”
    “For us it does,” Paul assured her, cutting into his French toast. “We met on New Year’s Day, we moved in together on New Year’s Day, and we’re going to site our house so that the front door is in exact alignment with the rising sun on New Year’s Day.”
    “That way we’re always looking toward the future,” Derrick added.
    Bridget beamed at them. “That’s beautiful.”
    Cici leaned her chin on her hand, smiling at them. “You both look ten years younger. I’m so glad this is working out for you.”
    “That’s what having an adventure will do for you,” Lindsay agreed. “We were the same way when we moved in here, remember?”
    Ida Mae harrumphed and got up from the table, taking her plate with her. “I never heard the like of foolishness. That swimming pool is gonna freeze.”
    “We’ll drain it,” Derrick assured her.
    “Waste of water.”
    “Spring fed.”
    She scowled at him. “You gonna eat them grits?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Dutifully, he took the bowl and plopped a spoonful on his plate.
    Bridget casually hid her portion of grits under a half a biscuit and some unfinished egg whites, and served herself another