Grandfather, is it all right if we join you for a bit?"
"Of course. Particularly since you've brought sustenance." He eyed the tray of food.
It looked like a food magazine layout, featuring a variety of cheeses with fresh berries on brightly painted Italian pottery, and a tiny glass container of honey with the smallest spoon he'd ever seen.
Isabel laced a thread of honey across the cheeses. "These are my favorite honey and cheese pairings. Comte, Appenzeller and ricotta. I had my first honey harvest last summer- a small one. That's when I realized I needed extra help with my beekeeping."
"Sorry I wasn't your guy," said Mac.

Isabel felt soft and yielding; her blouse felt soft. Everything about her seemed soft, and she smelled of dried flowers, rosemary, fresh baked bread. This whole kitchen seemed alive with a peculiar energy; in the old fixtures and furniture, Tess sensed a place where cooking and eating had happened for decades, where people gathered to sample life's sweetest pleasures.

Setting out some honey shortbread cookies to go with the lemonade, she flashed on memories of her grandmother, offering refreshments to anyone who was lucky enough to come through the kitchen door. As a working farm, Bella Vista was always busy with workers, some seasonal and others permanent. 'In my kitchen, everyone is family,' Bubbie used to say, beaming as the orchard workers, mechanics or gardeners gladly wolfed down her baked goods.

She shrugged her shoulders, then shifted her attention to the hand-labeled glass jars of honey. "Which one do you want to use?"
"Something mild to go with the cheese."
"The milkweed blossom?"
Isabel nodded. "We're probably the only ones who'll notice."
"The different flavors of honey have always been obvious to me," Jamie said.
"Not to me. I've had to train my palate. Same with wines. But I'm not a natural, but I love the alchemy of pairing flowers. If you were twenty-one and not pregnant, I'd give you a taste of this nice new sauvignon blanc from Angel Creek. It's going to go perfectly with the appetizers." She turned off the heat under the fried marcona almonds and gave the pan a shake.
"One sip," Jamie insisted, nibbling a bit of the goat cheese and honey on a cracker.
"One, young lady." Isabel poured a bit of the chilled white wine in a goblet and held it out to her.
Jamie savored a tiny sip, and smiled blissfully. "You're right. It's delicious."
Isabel took back the goblet. "Look at me, corrupting a minor.

I like the organza tiebacks. They're pretty and ethereal."
"Lovely. I think those are the ones."
"Me, too. And hey, can we invent a signature cocktail for the wedding, using honey?"
"I'm working on one made with honey syrup, apple juice and calvados. Garnished with an apple slice, of course.

In this life, I had all I ever wanted. Losing Erik was a sadness that knit itself into my soul, but that sadness was balanced out by all that came after. The years with you, my little girl, and with your grandfather and all the people of Bella Vista. It has been a life of abundance, and I will always be grateful for that.