5 star review. Amazon What a great story. I really like how Dana pulled history into this modern day romance. The characters were great and really pulled me in...I'm amazed at how in depth the family history was and how enjoyable it was getting to know all about them. I can't wait to read the next book!!
Torie time travels to 1905
Heading for a general store from the other direction on the walkway were two other girls also carrying a churned pot of butter. We seemed to be in some kind of race or sprint because the other girls stepped up their efforts, and I matched Lucy’s pace.
We made it to the door, and Lucy pulled it open as we dashed in before the others. I let Lucy take the lead as she hurried to the glass-topped counter and we set the butter bucket on the floor and I put the basket of eggs on the counter.
I realized right away when I saw the large sign that hung over the counter that read Baitsell’s General Store that we were not in Fremont but a township just east of there. The Baitsell’s General Store was in Wright.
The other two girls arrived behind us and were not very happy with their position. I remembered my aunt Delores, who was ninety-three years old, telling me something about an occurrence like this. I had it written down in my family history somewhere. It was a story that had been passed down to her. I couldn’t recall the details at the moment and would need to look it up when the time warp ended.
“Girls, I will give you twelve cents a pound for the butter, two cents per egg. Looks like you got fourteen eggs here,” he said as he transferred them to another basket and handed ours back to me. “What do you say? Do we have a deal?” Mr. Baitsell was writing up a ticket.
“Deal, Mr. Baitsell,” Lucy nodded and excitedly grabbed my hand. I absolutely loved Lucy. She was so much fun to spend time with. She held my hand tightly in hers while Mr. Baitsell came around the counter and took the bucket to the scale.
“Seven pounds,” he announced and then took an empty bucket from a stack, brought it over and handed it to me. “I will pay the same twelve cents to the first batch again next week. Anna and Betsy, I am afraid you will get ten cents per pound and one cent per egg. Of course, you could see if the Fremont General Store will pay more.”
“We’ll take the ten cents, Mr. Baitsell,” one of the girls said sullenly.
I noticed at that moment the young teenage boy trying not to show his amusement at the situation. It was Johnnie Baitsell. I recognized him. Even odder, I knew all about Johnnie Baitsell. He was not family, but he was buried in the Cedar Township cemetery in Fremont. He died at fifteen years old sometime after 1900 of consumption in Texas, where his mother had taken him for the warmer climate. I had his obituary which described how he had died in his mothers’ arms—very sad.
Out of the Past Kindle Version $.99,