No time left to drop into her father's office for a drink before the evening meal. She met him and Grandpa in the dining room. A mix of mouthwatering aromas wafted from the kitchen and made her stomach rumble. After nothing more than a bowl of cereal for breakfast and the bologna and cheese sandwich for lunch, she was starved. "Looks like you got some sun today, punkin," Daddy said, pulling out her chair at the table. She had worked without sunscreen. A cap had done little to prevent the merciless sun from cooking her face. If she hadn’t had Brady's shirt to wear, her neck and shoulders would have been as red as a boiled lobster. She took her seat, then pressed a palm to her cheek. The skin felt warm against her hand. "There isn't much shade around Suzanne's barn," she said. She winced inside. That small fib was an extension of the greater lie in which she had participated since this morning. Guilt was an unfamiliar and burdensome emotion.
