James sat back, enjoying the sounds of their dinner roasting. There was something therapeutic about hearing sizzling fat popping over an open fire. He smiled, grateful he’d put in an oversized barbeque pit the previous month.
“How’s it going, honey? Jake’s been asking when we can eat?” June asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.
James smiled up at her. “Shouldn’t be long, now. Another twenty minutes or so.”
“Great. My potato salad and cheery pie are standing by.”
He kissed her hand. “We’d better go to the store tomorrow, Honey. There aren’t a whole lot of door-to-door salesmen anymore.”