She turned slowly as her mind searched for an answer. “Oh, I do know that. I meant to say do you like orange juice. We’ve had a shipment and I thought it might be nice to have with breakfast.”
She let out a sigh as Sam entered the room, laughing as he saw his mother covered in flour. “Mother? Is that you?”
Mrs. Allen frowned and nudged his elbow. “Now, don’t tease. I know it’s not something you’ve seen often, me in the kitchen, but I wanted to try.”
“Between the three of us, Meg’s the only one who can boil water, and you know it. You’d better let her take over if you don’t want to go hungry.”
Meg pulled out a chair and gestured for Mrs. Allen to take it, and said to Sam, “I know you know how to squeeze oranges, Sam. Why don’t the two of you do that and I’ll make biscuits and eggs?”
“Oh, thank you, my dear. It was an honest attempt to be helpful, I assure you. I wasn’t trying to harm anyone.”
Sam’s laughter rang out as Mrs. Allen sat, her cheeks flushed. “I appreciate it very much, Mother. Both your gesture and your willingness to stop.” He pushed the cutting board and knife toward her. “How about if you slice and I’ll squeeze? Be careful.”
Mrs. Allen gave her son a good-natured grimace and took to slicing the oranges.
It was a bit of a lengthy process, and they all chatted lightly—Meg making sure to keep the subject off of her and Sam—and the biscuits and eggs were ready about the same time as the orange juice.
“Are we going to the mercantile this morning?” Mrs. Allen said between bites of her biscuit. “Oh, Meg, these are delicious. You must teach me how to—“
“Mother, you know full well that you aren’t going to bake biscuits. The ones you have baked could break a window.”
“You’re horrid to your old mother, Sam,” Mrs. Allen said between peals of laughter.
Meg’s heart tugged at the easy manner between the two and had a sudden pang that her own mother wasn’t there to join them. She folded her hands in front of her on the table, not wanting to cast a shadow on their fun.
“Meg? Are you all right?” Sam said, frowning at her as he covered her hands with one of his. “You’ve gone pale.”
The warmth of his touch soothed her, and she nodded. “I’m fine. It’s so nice to see you two together, and it hasn’t been that long since…”
He patted her hand, his eyes soft. “Meg’s mother died not long ago, and we all still miss her.”
Mrs. Allen’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide. “I am so sorry, my dear. That must have been frightful, and I’m sure she was very young.”
Meg took a deep breath, determined not to ruin the moment. “Yes, she was young, and a lovely person. Much like you, Mrs. Allen, so I am glad to have your company.”
Mrs. Allen smiled and tipped her head to Meg. “That is quite a compliment, my dear. I am flattered, and happy that we can spend time together.”
“Speaking of spending time together, we need to get ready to go to the mercantile. Mother, you might take a bit to get, uh, cleaned up.” He gestured to the flour covering her dress and smiled. “Meg and I are ready. How about we head over, then one of us will be back in an hour or so to pick you up?”
“That sounds like a fine idea, son. I suppose it will take me a moment or two to get my hair back to its original color.” She laughed, taking off her apron and hanging it on the peg by the door. “Thank you for the loan, Meg, but I think it was a little too late.”
“I really do appreciate your effort. It was very thoughtful.” Meg hung her apron up as well and turned to Sam as his mother left the room.
“I did it again,” she said, shaking her head slowly.
“What? What happened? I didn’t hear anything bad.”
“I asked her if you like orange juice,” she said, tapping her forehead with her palm.
Sam’s teeth flashed as he laughed and ran his hand through his black hair. She felt awful about the error, but loved seeing him laugh, and thought once more that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.
“Now, I would never have thought to mention that, and we’ve barely even had breakfast together. It was one of my favorite things. Still is.”
“I know that now,” she said with a smile as she reached for her blue wool wrap. “I think she was pretty surprised that I didn’t know, and I tried to cover up for it.”
“Good grief. If just having breakfast is this difficult, imagine what we’re in for at the mercantile.”
Meg groaned. “I can’t even imagine. We’d better cross our fingers,” she said as they headed out the door.