Trent had managed to spruce up a bit too and looked very handsome in a beautiful blue lightweight shirt and jeans. “Hi, come on in.”
As he walked into the kitchen beside Maggy, he heard, “Glad you could make it, Trent. Maggy, call your dad, will you? I’m dishing dinner up as we speak.”
Smiling at Trent she hurried toward the back door situated off the kitchen, “Dad, dinner’s being served.”
“Alright, on my way,” he called from around the corner. Maggy smiled, yep, he was in the greenhouse, had to expect that!
Rubbing her arms she closed the door behind her, “It’s still chilly.”
“Maggy, can you put the salad on the table along with the dressing? There we go, we’re ready. Take a seat everyone.”
Harold hustled through the door and hung his jacket on the peg beside it. “Smells heavenly in here.”
“Harriet, did you pour the wine already?”
“No, I left that honour for you.”
“Great.” He grabbed the wine bottle and began pouring then turned on dinner music, a little light jazz.
“What’s dinner without music.” Maggy and her mom looked at one another and smiled.
“My dad, the romantic.”
“Nothing wrong with a little romance,” Trent remarked.
“How’s the house on the hill coming, Trent?”
“Renovation after renovation. I’ll be glad when it’s all done. The owner keeps changing his mind.”
“That must be tough.”
“It can be, especially if I have to undo or change a design I’ve already instituted and finished.”
Maggy looked questioningly at Trent. “What do you do exactly?”