Jennifer stared down at the pile of clothes on the edge of the bed – they were her clothes from yesterday, clean and dry and pressed, courtesy of Carmelita. She’d never had a live-in housekeeper before, or even a maid who came and cleaned once a week, but Jenn was quickly starting to realize the benefits of such an arrangement.

Of course, if she continued to eat omelets and bacon strips and English muffins and diced fruit and handmade jelly every morning, she was going to need help walking pretty soon. Maybe they could just roll her from place to place. It would totally be worth it.

She pulled her skirt and white button-up shirt back on, and looked down with a sigh. It was true that this had to be the least practical outfit possible to tour a farm in. It may be clean right now, b...

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