June 12, 1923, Mississippi

The Sun beat down hard on your body. It seemed with every hay bail you threw, every nail you hammered, things just seem to get harder in the heat. Nevertheless you persisted. You worked hard to get the money for the supplies and land, but it was finally time to build your final home. As you fed your last horse for the day, you heard the familiar jingle of bracelets and the clatter of heels step from the porch onto the soft grass. You didn't know exactly what you two were, but it was definitely more than just friends.

If it isn't my favorite farm boy. I see the house is coming along.

You're pretty sure there was nobody like Elizabeth. She spent most of her adolescence in England before moving to Mississippi, and didn't take kindly to the vast culture shock. She became a lawyer and has been here ever since. Why she's taken a liking to you? Even the horses are baffled.

I brought you something again. They're macaroons. French mainly but their origins are Italian. I'm sure you'll like them.