Donna Ball - A Year on Ladybug Farm

Table of Contents

Starting Over

A grin spread over Lindsays face, and Cicis, and Bridgets. Then Lindsay grabbed the laptop with its scrolling pictures, hugged it to her chest, and cried fervently, Oh my God, I love this house!

Cici fell on her, embracing both her and the laptop. Me, too!

I love it more! exclaimed Bridget as she flung herself into the melee.

They separated after a breathless moment and sat there with fingers entwined, letting the enormity of the moment sink in.

Okay, Cici said at last. This is serious.

Totally.

Absolutely.

Its a huge risk.

Imagine that! Lindsay grinned. Taking a risk at our age!

If were going to do this, were going to have to be committed. Weve got to promise each other well give it at least a year.

Bridget said, It is like starting over. Like getting a bonus life. We can do this, I know we can.

Cici raised her right hand and insisted, One year.

Bridget repeated solemnly, raising her hand, A year.

And Lindsay followed suit. A year.

They clasped hands in midair, eyes shining, the excitement in the air as thick as honey.

Okay then, Cici said. She pulled her legs into a semi-lotus position, took up her legal pad, and picked up her glass of wine. Lets make a plan.

And so they did.

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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control
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Copyright 2009 by Donna Ball

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

eISBN : 978-1-101-01470-7

1. Female friendshipFiction. 2. Shenandoah River Valley (Va. and W. Va.)Fiction.
3. DwellingsMaintenance and repairFiction. I. Title.
PS3552.A4545Y43 2009
813.54dc22

2008034288

http://us.penguingroup.com

This book is for Shannon, Libby, and Janet...
Who sat on my porch, listened to my stories,
and said, You should write a book.
And for Gisele, who went for a walk one
morning and brought back a fawn
And for Karen, who never stopped believing
And for Jennifer, who extended her reach
And for Jackie, who brought us all home.
You are the women of Ladybug Farm.
Cheers!

In the Beginning

In Which the Ladies of Huntington Lane Go Looking

August

Well, said Cici, stepping slowly out of the car. It certainly is big.

And old, agreed Lindsay, getting out of the passenger side.

Bridget got out of the backseat and drew in a breath. Good heavens. ItsMonticello!

Cici and Lindsay glanced back at her, then turned their eyes forward again. Cici pushed her sunglasses up into her hair to better assess the megalith of faded brick and painted Corinthian columns that sprawled before them. In the foreground stood a tangled and overgrown rose garden. In the background, sheep grazed in a meadow that seemed to sweep all the way to the Shenandoah mountains. On the deep front porch, which was partially obscured by giant boxwood tangled with Virginia creeper, a woman in a blue pantsuit waved to them. The three women waggled their fingers back.

Okay, said Bridget, were just looking, right?

Of course we are, said Lindsay.

Absolutely, agreed Cici.

I mean, this isnt serious.

Dont be silly.

Not even close. Cici flipped the sunglasses back down over her eyes, finger-combed her honey blonde bangs back into place, and straightened her shoulders. Lets go.

Three doors slammed in a rhythmic concerto, three purse straps were slung over shoulders, and three pairs of legs strode forward. Viewed from a distance, they could have been sorority sisters in their designer jeans and walking shorts, slim tanned arms swinging gracefully at their sides, casually coiffed hair glinting in the sunlight. Bridget, the oldest of the three by a couple of years, was shorter and slightly rounder than the other two, but no one could pull off a pair of kitten-heeled sandals and fuchsia toenail polish like she could. Lindsay wore her auburn ponytail pulled through the band of a baseball cap, and a close-fitting T-shirt that barely skimmed the top of her jeans. There was a time when, as a college student, she couldnt have afforded the special-edition Vera Bradley Sunshine and Shadow quilted backpack bag she carried by one strap across her shoulder, but no more. Cici was blue-eyed and covered in freckles, head to toe. She had the legs of a dancer, which looked twice as long and twice as lean in her CKs, and was tall enough to have been a basketball player. But she wasnt. In fact, none of them were what they appeared to be from a distance.

It was not their clothes, their sizes, or their accessories that gave them away as they came across the lawn toward the wide front steps of the big house. It was the way they moved: with ease and confidence, and a kind of unconscious pride in being female that no one has when shes twenty. Youre not born with a walk like that. You have to earn it.

They had already gotten their degreesin liberal arts, education, business, and good old-fashioned survival. They had not only written mortgages, but had paid them off. Each one of them could soothe a teething baby, write a letter to the editor, and bake a soufflusually all at the same time and without interrupting anyones dinner to complain about it. They had elected seven presidents, picketed for paid day care, campaigned for national health insurance and secured parental leave policies at workplaces across the nation. They had saved the ozone layer, the whale, and the Southern hemlock, all while keeping their streets safe from drunk drivers, their schools safe from drugs, and their sons safe from war. They had raised families, raised funds, and raised their share of hell.