Chapter One

It's a crying shame," Lillian Biddle said in a loud whisper, hovering a bit too close to Peter Morgan. They stood on the dormant lawn on an unusually warm day in early April. Bare crab apple branches draped overhead, creating a somber, webbed shadow that encased the mourners who stood in scattered clumps across the lawn like faded dandelions. Steaming black coffee warmed hands, and napkins held sweet bars.

"You know, she'll have to sell the place now," Mrs. Biddle continued, "what with Roy gone. They hired my Bert over a month ago to do all the milking, ever since Roy's cancer got the best of him. A cryin' shame, a cryin' shame. I've seen it happen all too often. The man dies and the wife has to sell out, auction the equipment and move to town, even though she worked as hard as him to keep the place going. I remember," Lillian went on, "Cora Jorgenson, she was just devastated after Richard passed on. Heart attack in the middle of church, right after the benediction. They're Catholic, you know."

Peter didn't have a due who she was talking about. His mind was on his grandfather-gone three days-and finding his grandmother in the crowd.

"When Richard died, Cora didn't have much choice. The bank was pushing to foreclose, could hardly wait till Richard was buried to get their hands on it. So she sold that beautiful farm. It had been in their family for four generations. But then during the farm crisis they had such a hard time of it. Almost lost the place then. I don't know how your grandfather fared. He seemed like a levelheaded man, but then you can never tell."

Peter scanned the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of his round-cheeked, g

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