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!!
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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,
