“I never did understand why I married a man with such a dirty mind. I was simply swimming,” Bett said virtuously, and dove into her own plate.

“Bull. You knew I’d come after you.”

She leveled him a scolding frown, between grabbing a slice of cucumber and smothering it with dip. “You’ve accused me of this kind of thing before, you know. And I’ve explained to you that my mother raised a shy, modest type, hardly an exhibitionist… Did you check the peaches for tomorrow?”

“The north fifteen. We’ll probably spot-pick in the orchard behind the house as well. They’re nearly ready, and with this heat they could turn by tomorrow. Did you get the baskets?”

“At a discount.”

“How’d you manage that?” Zach shoved a foot against the coffee table.

“Seduced Kramer.”

“That must have taken dedication.”

“It did,” Bett said fervently.

“Dedication, courage and a cast-iron stomach.”

“Well, you know me,” Bett agreed. “I was desperate. Couldn’t get anyone’s attention down by the pond…”

“For two cents, Mrs. Monroe, I’d probably beat you.”

By some coincidence, Bett found three pennies in her jeans pocket. She tossed him two, and waited interestedly.

Zach got up, all right, but only to answer the second ring of the telephone. The phone inevitably rang off the hook in the early evening. Farmers calling farmers, primarily to encourage each other’s heart attacks. The forecast was for the heat wave to continue tomorrow, and once the weather report was over the anxiety attacks began.

Bett leaned back against the couch, half closed her eyes and felt gentle waves of weariness invade every limb. At least they didn’t have to go back out again tonight, since the semi had already been in. Not that their garden wasn’t begging for an hour of attention, but her priority was a little intimate time with Zach. December was full of leisure time, but minutes had to count in August.

“It’s your mother.”