“Where’s Aaron?” Felty said, studying her face with a perceptive gleam in his eye, like he could tell the difference between tears and rain. “Is he out nursing his rock pile?”

Suvie didn’t know what to say. She was probably their first matchmaking failure, and they’d feel bad about it, even if it wasn’t their fault. They’d been given so little to work with. “He, uh, he doesn’t want to look for petunias.”

Anna frowned and got the same gleam in her eye that Felty had. “What has he done now?”

Suvie couldn’t keep the hitch from her voice, no matter how hard she tried. “Nothing.” Except leave her standing in the rain with nothing to show for it but a thoroughly broken heart and an unfinished box of graham crackers.

Anna clucked her tongue. “Did he try to share his bran flakes with you? That’s enough to scare any girl off. What good are bran flakes except to keep him regular?”

“Maybe he likes that they keep him regular,” Felty said. “No girl wants a boy who isn’t regular.”

Anna huffed out an impatient breath. “What’s romantic about being regular?”

Felty took off his hat and scratched his head. “I don’t know. I prefer prunes.”

The wrinkles puckered around Anna’s mouth. “That boy is determined to scare girls off with his breakfast cereal.”

Suvie gave Anna a sad smile. “I didn’t see any bran flakes this morning.”

Felty stroked his beard. “But he doesn’t want petunias.”

Suvie lowered her eyes. “No petunias.”

Anna clucked her tongue again. “Well, he’s not going to catch a wife with bran flakes. Somebody needs to tell him that being regular is not the least bit romantic.” Anna let Felty help her into the buggy. “Ach, Felty. Sometimes I think nobody would get married without our help. Die youngie are so thick sometimes.”