The Millionaire's Intriguing Offer

The Present and the Past

Bailey had been ready to spill everything last night as soon as the truck pulled up to the farmhouse and she groggily woke up.

Adelaide asked her when was the last time she ate, and when Bailey admitted she hadn't had anything since lunch, she and Harlan had hustled her into the big kitchen and sat her down at the square wooden table that had hosted many meals coupled with laughter, tears, and heart-felt conversations over the years.

Adelaide began taking sandwich fixings from the refrigerator, and Harlan pulled a loaf of hearty homemade bread out of the bread box and cut two thick slices.

"You want egg salad or cheese?" Adelaide asked. 

"Egg salad." Bailey didn't hesitate. She glanced over at Harlan.  You might want to cut me two more slices of that bread, Dad."

"That's my girl," Harlan said.

There was nothing better, in Bailey's opinion, than egg salad made from the eggs her parents gathered from their pampered chickens, and fresh bread Harlan baked usually twice a week. Her dad didn't cook much - that was Adelaide's forte - but he sure could bake an excellent wheat bread. He always said it relaxed him, and Bailey had come to appreciate the satisfaction of mixing ingredients, kneading the dough, and watching the bread rise and take shape in the loaf pan.

Adelaide heaped generous portions of egg salad on two slices of bread, then topped them with fresh tomatoes and lettuce from what Adelaide called "the kitchen garden," and put another thick slice of bread on top of each one. 

Bailey bit into the first sandwich and sighed audibly. "Nothing ever tasted this good," she said. The wheat bread was hearty and satisfying, and she swore store-bought eggs tasted nothing like the eggs laid by their own happy chickens, who were treated more like pets than farm animals.

"Food tastes even better when you're tired and hungry," Harlan commented. He sat down at one of the wooden chairs and leaned his elbows on the table. "Now get a few bites into you, then tell us what's got you so upset so we can set about fixing it."

"Oh no you don't."  Adelaide was adamant. "Harlan, can't you see the child's exhausted? She needs to get some food in her stomach, then a good night's sleep. There'll be plenty of time to talk in the morning."

"I'm not exactly a child anymore," Bailey pointed out between bites.

"Nonsense." Adelaide set a tall glass of iced tea down in front of her, then took her own seat at the table. "Doesn't matter how grown up you are, you're always going to be my child. Especially when you show up looking so sad."

"I love you guys," Bailey said, a sudden burst of emotion making her voice break a little.

"Right back at you," Harlan said. He let out a long breath and settled back into his chair. "Your mother's right. Plenty of time to talk things through in the morning. Most troubles seem more manageable after a good night's sleep."

When Bailey headed up the stairs to her old room, she heard their voices in the kitchen.

"She looks so lost, Harlan. I'm worried about her."

"Don't you worry, Sweetheart." Harlan's reassuring voice drifted up the stairs. "Whatever the problem is, the three of us together can fix it."

Bailey wished it was that easy.

* * *

Some internal alarm clock must have been triggered as soon as she arrived home, because although she slept a deep and dreamless sleep, she woke up before dawn. She still kept clothes there, to make it simpler and less baggage when she traveled home to visit. Plus, as Adelaide always said, this would always be her home, would always be her room whenever she wanted or needed it.