Pretty as a Peach

by Sawyer Bennett

  At the mention of the name Darby, my skin tightens and my jaw locks. I’ve never met Jake’s former sister-in-law, who is going to be running Farrington Farms for him, and I’m not sure I ever want to meet her. I’m still nursing a lot of sore feelings over the fact she applied for the same expansion grant that I did from the North Carolina Department of Agriculture.

  My bootstrap idea to save Mainer Farms has been in the works a long time. I’ve been developing a long-term plan to open a winery as part of Mainer Farms. The first step is to plant the grapes. It will take a few years for them to mature and be able to harvest. That expansion grant is crucial to my plans, and my plans are crucial to keep Mainer Farms operating.

  I know this Darby-woman has every right to apply for that grant, but it still sticks in my craw that she did it because she doesn’t really need it.

  Not the way I do.

  Jake bought Farrington Farms for a tax write-off. He expects to lose money. My understanding from Laken, who irritatingly defends Jake and Darby, is she had to apply for the grant in order to meet the requirements of her thesis. Darby is apparently a smarty-pants who is trying to finish her PhD in agronomy.

  So essentially, she’s doing it to write a paper while I’m doing it to save my family’s farm.

  “Once that girl gets settled in, you bring her by here for beer,” Pap instructs Laken.

  Laken beams a sweet smile at her grandpa. “I will. I’ll also invite her to one of our Sunday dinners. I imagine she’s going to be overwhelmed and lonely, so I want to show her some good Mainer hospitality.”

  Technically, our family name is Mancinkus. It’s Pap and my dad’s surname. But truth is, when we talk about hospitality, we talk about my mama’s side of the family. We’re southern through and through and having people over for Sunday dinner is just a way of life for us.

  Laken shoots me a pointed look, but I ignore it.

  “How old is her daughter?” Pap asks. I listen with only half an ear because I really couldn’t care less.

  “She’s seven years old,” Laken replies. “Darby is going to enroll her over at Height Elementary on Monday.”

  For someone who doesn’t even care, I can’t help myself from commenting, “That means she’ll get Mrs. Nicholson.”

  Laken nods while wrinkling up her nose in distaste. All of us Mancinkus kids had Mrs. Nicholson for the second grade, and not one of us liked her. She wore way too much rose perfume and her voice was overly squeaky when she yelled.

  And Mrs. Nicholson yelled a lot. Why somebody with her bad temperament chose to teach children who are often unruly at that age is beyond me.

  Laken turns her head and gives me a sweet, imploring look. “Hey, Colt… Would you be willing to come over tomorrow and help us get Darby’s stuff unloaded? She’s going to be pulling in late tonight, so I figured we would unpack in the morning.”

  I’m shaking my head out of pure stubbornness and unwillingness to help the woman who is going to make my life a little more difficult. It’s a crappy thing to do and totally not indicative of the southern hospitality to which I have been raised in, but I tell her, “Sorry. Got plans already.”

  Laken arches an eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? Like what?”

  “Nunya,” I tell her.

  Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Pap snickers under his breath. “Nunya?”

  “Yeah, none ya business,” I tell her as I push off from the counter and walk over to the refrigerator that sits between the beer cooler and a small toaster oven we use to cook frozen pizzas.

  “You don’t have plans,” she taunts at my back. I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. “You’re just sore at Darby for no reason at all.”

  “I’ve got reason,” I mutter as I twist off the cap and take a long swallow.

  “What’s his reason?” Pap asks curiously. With him facing cancer and surgery, he’s not been in the gossip loop lately.

  “Darby applied for the same grant Colt wants,” Laken explains. “And he’s acting like a third grader over it.”

  “Am not,” I mutter.

  “Well, you were an ass to Jake,” she points out. And yeah… I was a little hot headed when I found out about it and confronted the man who I really knew nothing about. Only that he was a hotshot Yankee businessman come to town who had no business becoming a farmer.

  I mean… running a farm at a loss? It’s almost a slap in the face to us farmers who work eighty hours a week to eke out a living.

  But I’ll have to admit I’ve since come to like Jake. I’ll grudgingly admit he’s got a good heart and most importantly, he makes my sister happy.

  Doesn’t mean I have to like Darby, though. Or help her. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the competition and that makes her my enemy.

  So no… I won’t be helping.

  Besides, I really do have important plans that are none of Laken’s business. I’m heading over to Duplin County to meet with a vintner there who runs a successful winery.

  Yes, we make wine in the South. I know Californians look down their nose at us, but our muscadine grapes—scuppernong being the main variety I intend to grow—make a very distinctive and purely unique tasting wine. This Duplin vintner makes quite a good living at it, and I intend to tour his vineyard today. He was kind enough to let me pick his brain some.

  “Colt… seriously,” Laken continues to push at me. “Please come help unload Darby tomorrow. I’ll make dinner and—”

  “I really can’t,” I say as I turn back to her, my voice softening so she understands this isn’t a childish reaction to the grant situation. “I really do have plans, and I can’t discuss them with you until I know if it’s something that’s plausible.”

  Plausibility rests solely with me getting that grant.

  At this, Laken sits up straighter and Pap leans toward me. They know I’m working my fingers to the bone to make Mainer Farms successful again, and they have figured out that whatever I’m doing tomorrow is for ye olde homestead.

  “When will you share with us?” she asks curiously. “You know we can help out.”

  Yes, I know any of my siblings would do whatever was necessary to keep the farm from going under. While they don’t want to be farmers, they are just as proud of our heritage as I am. Every single one of them would be out there planting or harvesting with me if I needed it.

  I give a shake of my head. “Soon. I hope to know something soon, and a lot of it has to do with the grant. Then I’ll share. But until then, I don’t want to get anyone excited about something that won’t come to fruition.”

  Laken slouches slightly, a silent tell that she’s not going to pump me for information. Pap just looks at me critically, and that’s his tell that he’s not going to let me go it alone at all. I bet after Laken leaves, he’ll grill me hard over what’s going on.

  And you know what?

  I’ll tell him.

  Everyone always spills their guts to Pap because bottom line, he usually has the best advice.

  CHAPTER 3

  Darby

  “Mom… there’s a man over there holding a gun across his lap,” Linnie says. I follow the direction of her gaze over to the hardware store.

  Sure enough, a big bear of a fella sits on a rocking chair on the sidewalk with a shotgun resting across his lap. He rocks back and forth with his fingers tapping to some beat perhaps playing in his head. He’s got a bushy gray beard that hangs down his chest and a pleasant smile on his face. The shotgun, however, lends an air of menace to him.

  I guess that’s life in a small town.

  “I’m sure he’s harmless,” I tell her, but my hand goes to her shoulder to push her more quickly into the front door of Sweet Cakes Bakery.

  The bells hanging over the door chime merrily as we enter, and a woman who I know immediately to be Larkin Mancinkus smiles at Linnie and me. I know this is Larkin Mancinkus—a.k.a. sister of Laken Mancinkus—because they’re identical twins. Although Laken wears her hair long and past her should
ers, Larkin’s is cut into a sweet pixie with stylishly frayed bangs that sweep across her forehead. She has a face that was meant to wear that haircut.

  “You must be Darby and Linnie,” Larkin says with a welcoming smile and her hands beckoning us further into the store. “Laken told me you made it into town yesterday.”

  My hands go to Linnie’s shoulders as I smile back. “Laken told us you have the best baked goods this side of the Mississippi, so here we are.”

  Larkin laughs and waves the compliment off. “She’s my sister. Of course she would say that.”

  “Well, we’re here to get stocked up. I’m going to drop Linnie at Laken’s veterinary clinic, and she’s going to help her out for the morning while I shop for school supplies.”

  I don’t need to look down at my daughter’s face to know she’s probably grimacing at the reminder I’m pawning her off on a stranger. At least that’s exactly what she said to me this morning when I told her she was going to go hang out with Laken and Jake while I went shopping.

  Linnie isn’t bent out of shape because I’m not letting her come school shopping with me.

  Quite the contrary.

  I asked her to come with me, but she resoundingly turned me down. She’s still in snit-mode over me making her leave Illinois, and she’s taking it out on me by making it clear she doesn’t want to be in my presence. I wasn’t going to leave her at the farm by herself, so I gave her the choice of either coming with me to the Walmart in Milner or hanging out with Laken and Uncle Jake.

  Linnie wrinkled her nose as if it was no choice at all, but grumbled she would rather spend time with Uncle Jake.

  Yes, that really hurt.

  I can only hope this attitude will start to mellow once she settles in. Last night, she talked to her father on the phone and he got her riled up. She had him on speakerphone as they talked, and she laid it on super thick with her dad.

  “I miss you so much, Daddy,” she’d told him. This was not a lie as Linnie loves her father, but I knew it was exaggerated as she never calls him “daddy”. He may not be doting or overly invested in her entirety, but he is her father and there is love there.

  “I really want to come home. Can I please come home and live with you?”

  I gritted my teeth over her proclamation because that also hurt, but I braced myself because I knew her father’s response was going to hurt her more than she had just hurt me.

  “That’s just not possible, Linnie,” Mitch told her in a firm voice. I call it his “CEO voice” that he usually reserves for the people who work below him. “I’m just far too busy to take care of you full time. That was your mother’s job, and well… she ruined that now, didn’t she?”

  That last line was said in the most scathing voice possible. Of course he sees it as all my fault, as he doesn’t want our marriage to end and he’s extremely bitter over me leaving. I guess I just can’t figure out why. We didn’t get along, and nothing I did seemed to please him anymore. Add on the fact he has a mistress who he kept in high style for the last two years, and I’m just not quite sure why he even cares I left. Maybe it’s because I did those things he believes are the woman’s role like cooking, cleaning, and raising the kids.

  Might as well keep me barefoot and pregnant while he’s at it.

  Larkin puts her forearms on top of the glass case, which hosts an amazing variety of cakes, cookies, breads, and other pastries. She beams down at Linnie. “See anything you like? It’s on the house as a welcome to Whynot.”

  Linnie just twists out of my hold on her shoulders and pushes past me to the door. She mutters, “Not hungry” as she jerks it open and walks out.

  I watch in dismay as Linnie stomps over to a bench that sits in front of the large glass window to the bakery. She throws herself on it and immediately slouches into a defensive posture, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I rub my forehead in frustration and embarrassment before turning my weary gaze back to Larkin. “Sorry about that. I swear she’s a pleasant child, but she’s having the hardest time accepting this move.”

  Larkin waves her hand at me, brushing off my apology. “Please… kids will be kids. No need to apologize. That just means you get to have Linnie’s treat.”

  That makes me laugh and for the first time, I have a tiny surge of happiness over the move I’ve made. Like validation I made the right decision.

  Of course, I immediately liked Laken when I met her on my first visit several weeks ago, so it’s no surprise her twin sister is just as lovely.

  But Larkin has something a little bit extra in her smile I don’t get from Laken. It’s almost a gentle sweetness that comes from deep within her soul. I can just look at Larkin and know she’s about the kindest woman I will ever meet. It’s definitely in her eyes, and perhaps the fact she offered me two treats from her case.

  After I pick out a chocolate croissant and a slice of banana nut bread for myself, I also order two of the jumbo chocolate chip cookies, knowing it would have been Linnie’s choice. I start pointing to a variety of muffins for Jake and Laken’s breakfast and as a thank-you for watching Linnie today. And without any guilt at all, I tell her to throw in a cherry pie I’ll serve with dinner tonight.

  As Larkin starts packaging all the treats in pretty pink boxes with cellophane windows, she chatters up a storm about the town of Whynot. I learn quickly the man on the other side of the square with the gun across his lap is Floyd. He owns the hardware store he sits in front of, and he’s a self-appointed town protector even though Whynot has its own police force. She told me not to be alarmed, but Floyd often prowls around at night with his shotgun to help protect the citizens.

  Luckily, I find this more charming than alarming, and it bolsters that previous surge of happiness within me. I have a feeling I’m going to like this area a lot.

  “So peaches, huh?” Larkin asks as she stacks the boxes up on the counter before ringing up the purchases.

  I pull my wallet out of my purse and nod. “Yeah. Peaches.”

  That’s the main crop I’ll focus on at Farrington Farms. I’m going to build Jake a peach orchard from the ground up.

  “How did a woman like you get interested in agronomy?” Larkin asks me, and I realize her sister must have told her quite a bit about me since she knows my educational background.

  “My sister Kelly and I grew up on a farm in Iowa,” I tell her as she punches buttons on the cash register. “It was a big operation, and I was always more interested in the science behind it all.”

  “A smart and beautiful new girl in town,” Larkin says with a wink. “All the boys are going to be after you before too long.”

  I give a humorless laugh, because having boys chase me is the last thing I want. I’m in the process of running away from a bully and would just like some peace. But sharing my history with Mitch is a little too personal right now, so I merely say, “I’m going to be far too busy getting the orchard up and running to worry about boys.”

  Larkin’s face softens, and the empathetic look she gives me is one of perhaps self-recognition. She gives a tiny smile and says, “Girl, I know exactly what you’re talking about. Running my own business has only assured I stay single. I don’t seem to have time to do anything but work and sleep.”

  Something in those words causes a shift within me, as if I recognize very much of myself within Larkin. Or the “self” I want to become.

  Like a subtle understanding washing through me, I suddenly know Larkin and I could become very good friends. “Well, I think you and I should at least budget time to go out to lunch or something together.”

  Larkin grins at me. “Lunch is good. Wine and cheese one night would be better.”

  I grin and nod. “Much better.”

  I pay for the pastries minus the two Larkin gave me in welcome, and leave after exchanging phone numbers with her. We promise to try to get together within the next week.

  When I step out onto the sidewalk, Linnie pretends to be engrossed in her fingern
ails. I hold my hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s get over to Laken’s clinic.”

  Linnie pushes up with a heavy sigh, ignores my hand, and turns toward the car. I stop her with a, “Nope. We’re going to walk.”

  I get another overly dramatic sigh as if she’ll die walking a few blocks, but I merely smile at her brightly. “It’s not going to kill you.”

  As we walk beside each other, I make up my mind I am going to kill Linnie with kindness no matter how trying she is to me. She’ll warm up to me sooner rather than later, but I would like to speed things along.

  I point across the town square that’s occupied by a large, red bricked courthouse. It has a beautiful lawn, grand oak trees, and a pretty, white gazebo on the southern end. “I found out the guy over there is Floyd. He’s the town protector and always carries a shotgun, but I’ve been assured he’s harmless.”

  She looks over to Floyd sitting in front of his hardware store but doesn’t comment.

  I point at the different businesses, trying to facilitate conversation. “Larkin told me this is called ‘Courthouse Square’. As evidenced by the large courthouse in the town center. And that is her sister’s law firm, and this bar here is owned by her grandfather.”

  I point out a pretty restaurant called Clementine’s and tell her we need to try that. Throwing my thumb over my shoulder, I point back at an antique shop behind us. “I bet there are some cool things in there. We’ll have to check all these shops out.”

  She doesn’t respond, but I’m heartened to see her glance around with what I would deem a slight interest. We walk south along South Wright Street and then hang a left on Freemont where Laken’s veterinary clinic sits one block down. She had a few appointments this morning, and I thought it would be cool for Linnie to see how a veterinarian works. It’s never too early to consider career possibilities.

  With some difficulty, I’m able to push open the front swinging door of Laken’s clinic with my shoulder while I balance the three pink boxes on top of each other. Linnie walks in before me and comes to a dead halt. I run right into her back after I let the door close behind me, causing the boxes to tilt precariously. After I get them under control, I raise my head to see what might be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.