by Lynne Norris
Emma slid down in her chair and hunched her shoulders. “I forgot to pay the bill.”
“Oh shit,” Grace said.
“Yeah, thankfully the insurance company let me reinstate it, but it won’t cover any of the damages.”
“How big are the holes in the other rooms?”
“About the size of a double hung window, but they’re all jagged and uneven. I think they took a hammer to the wallboard.”
“Doesn’t matter what they used. The fact that they did it was bad enough,” Grace said.
“I don’t understand why someone would do that to something that’s not even theirs. It’s just outrageous.”
“It is and you probably won’t ever know why they did it,” Grace said. “The best thing you can do is to get the damage repaired as quickly as you can so you can move on.”
“I guess so,” Emma said.
“If you cut out the uneven parts and make it square you can size a new piece of drywall and fit it to the hole. You may need to add a two by four behind it to provide support.”
“You make it sound so easy. How do you know how to do that?”
“When I moved back home we converted the space over the barn into an apartment. Michael and I did all the finishing work.” Grace said, fiddling with her coffee cup. “If you want I can help you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Why not?” Grace asked wondering what possessed her to make the offer to help.
“I’m sure you have your hands full working on the farm.”
“It’s busy, but I could find some time to help you out.”
Changing the subject, Emma said, “Tell me about the farm.”
“Why are you interested?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because living and working on a farm is so different from anything I’ve ever done.”
“Tell me about Wall Street first,” Grace countered.
“What’s to tell? It’s been taken over by high frequency trading done by supercomputers. Companies pay thousands of dollars to secure the largest bandwidth so they can shave microseconds off of how fast they can get a trade executed. The average investor doesn’t stand a chance. It’s all about greed and power. Money isn’t lost. It’s just transferred to the company or person who’s sitting on the right side of a trade.”
“It sounds a bit like smoke and mirrors,” Grace said.
“Not just a bit. It is. People think they’re wealthy but it’s just on paper. It’s ones and zeros on a computer. If you can’t stand in front of it and defend it it’s not yours. It literally takes a key stroke and billions can evaporate out of people’s accounts.”
“Why did you go into it?”
“I studied finance in college and did my internship with SMB Capital, the company I worked for. It seemed exciting and I felt like I was part of something important.”
“Was it...important?” Grace asked.
“It felt like it was. People looked up to me. They came to me for advice. I managed multi-million dollar accounts. After the market crash in 2008, I started to lose faith in what I was doing.” Emma fell silent and Grace took a sip of her coffee waiting for her to continue. “You’re probably wondering why I was still there seven years later.”
“No. I remember the layoffs that happened on Wall Street that year. People hunkered down and were more than happy to hang onto the jobs they had,” Grace said.
“So you got me to tell you about Wall Street, but you haven’t told me anything about the farm yet.”
“I asked and you offered,” Grace said with an easy smile.
“So I did. Now it’s your turn. Tell me what you do on the farm.”
A smile lifted the corner of Grace’s mouth. She gazed out across the lake and sighed. “First thing in the morning the animals have to be fed and watered.”
Emma threw her head back and laughed. Grace settled back in her chair enjoying the sound. “I have this image of you watering the animals like flowers,” Emma said her eyes twinkling.
Grace found herself drawn into those magnificent eyes. The mysterious hues seemed to change in the sunlight. Not wanting to stare, she looked away. “Not quite like that, but there is a hose involved. We have a tractor that we use to pull an industrial size water tank out into the fields so we can fill the drinking troughs.”
“I was joking.”
“I know,” Grace said and shocked herself by saying, “Why don’t you come out to the farm and I’ll show you around instead?”
“Really? When?”
“How about tomorrow?” Grace asked, watching Emma tilt her head and furrow her brow as if deep in thought.
“Seeing as my calendar is wide open and I don’t have any pressing engagements,” Emma said with a wry smile. “I’d love to.”
“Is seven too early for you?”
“Not at all. I’m trying to keep myself on some semblance of a schedule. I can’t fall completely off the wagon or I’ll really go to hell with myself.”
“I’ll be finished feeding all the animals by then.”
“Will I still be able to see them?”
“Of course.” Grace said realizing how little Emma knew about farms and the work that went with them. “They’ll be out in the fields grazing.”
“So what’s special about Sunday?” Emma asked.
“Sunday. Oh right. Mike and I catch up on chores for part of the day then we break for an early dinner at the house. This happens to be the Sunday Mom invites the people who volunteer on the farm to come over for dinner. They cook, put some food away for the winter and drink wine.”
“I like the sound of that.” A genuine smile broke over Emma’s face and her dimples flashed.
“Which part, the wine, the cooking or the physical labor?” Grace asked.
“Definitely the part about drinking wine.”
“So I shouldn’t count on you to help muck out the barn?” Grace teased.
“I’ll spread the clean hay,” Emma offered.
“Oh sure that’s the easy part of the job.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to shovel manure out of the barn just yet.”
“Chicken.” Grace laughed at the incredulous expression on Emma’s face.
“I am not,” Emma protested.
“Prove it then,” Grace challenged.
“Oh no, you invited me. I get a tour first.”
“All right. Tomorrow. Seven a.m.”
“Does your father still make wine? I remember my father used to buy it from him.”
“We have a couple of batches fermenting right now.” Grace fell quiet and stared across the lake.
“What are you thinking?” Emma asked.
Grace pulled her gaze away from the lake and met Emma’s eyes. “I should be getting back. I’ve got a list of things to take care of today.”
“Of course,” Emma said standing up as Grace did. “Thanks for the coffee...and the visit. I’ve been spending too much time in my head. It’s nice to have a conversation with someone for a change.”
Their eyes met and held for a beat. Suddenly uncertain, Grace looked away and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” and started to walk up the hill.
“I’ll be there.” Emma said catching up to Grace.
Grace climbed up into her truck and turned the key. She leaned out the window as Emma climbed up on the porch. “Keep your doors locked,” she called out.
Emma gave her a mock salute and said, “I will.”
Chapter Seven
GRACE AND MICHAEL started their day before sunrise, packing the crates with fresh produce for the farmer’s markets. There was a fresh smell to the air and a gentle breeze rustled the tops of the trees. Red wing black birds trilled from somewhere in a tree. Over coffee and scrambled eggs they talked about what projects they had in store for the day.
When they were done cleaning up the kitchen, Grace walked outside. She hitched the wagon with the five hundred gallon tank full of well water to the 4x4 tractor.
She drove it over the pasture lane that ran through the center of the meadows where the animals grazed. Michael was content to ride shotgun and survey the land as they rolled and jostled across the uneven terrain. Sadie and Max trotted alongside the tractor fully intent on being included in all the day’s activities. When Grace crested the hill the chickens came running to greet them.
“Crazy birds. I’ll never understand why they come running every time they see us,” Michael said.
“They’re social creatures.” Grace turned off the engine. “And we feed them. It’s Pavlov’s Law.”
“Whatever that is.” Michael hopped out and said, “I’ll check the egg mobiles and make sure all the nesting boxes are open.”
Grace hooked up the two-inch water hose, fired up the water pump secured to the floor of the wagon and filled the first of three tanks. By the time she was hooking up the last one, Michael was finished and lent her a hand.
“Do you think about what you want to do?” Michael asked.
“What do you mean? I’m doing what I want to right now.”
“You really want to keep working here?” Michael directed the hose into the water tank. “Forever?”
“I don’t remember ever thinking that I didn’t want to do this. Even when I was coaching I always looked forward to coming back to the farm. What about you?” Grace asked.
“Not me. I never thought I would end up back here. Besides, I’m a graphic designer. Put me in front of a computer screen and let me work my magic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re good at it.”
“Thanks,” Michael said. “It’s nice to hear that from someone in my family.”
“I think Mom and Dad are proud of you.”
“Maybe.”
“Something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t plan on getting divorced and ending up back here. It’s just not where I expected to be at this point in my life.”
“It’s not all bad, is it?”
“No, the boys have a great place to grow up.” Michael mustered up a smile and said. “Don’t pay too much attention to me griping—just wallowing in it today.”
“You’re allowed to have a pity party once in awhile.” Grace tapped him on the shoulder. “Are we about topped off in there?”
“We’re done. Turn the motor off.” Michael pulled the hose from the water tank after Grace killed the switch on the motor. “You should be the one Pop asks to manage the farm.”
“Why do you say that? Did he say something to you?”
“No. I just overhead him and Mom talking the other morning.”
“What were they saying?”
“Nothing specific. Just that they had to make a decision soon so Tony would stop harassing them.”
“Would you stay if they asked me to manage the farm?”
“It depends on what’s on the table.”
She had no answer for that. Grace cast an eye skyward and estimated it was close to seven from the position of the sun. “Can you take over from here?” Grace asked.
“Sure.” Michael studied her quietly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just something I have to take care of.”
“And just what is it you need to take of?” Michael raised a questioning eyebrow his tone gently teasing.
“Nothing you need to worry about. I promised I’d show someone around the farm.”
His eyes sharpened and he said, “You’re not entertaining one of Tony’s prospective buyers. Are you?”
“What?” Grace whipped around and pinned him with an icy glare. “Hell no. Why would you even think I would?”
“I think if you told Mom and Dad it was the best thing to do they might listen to you.”
Tears stung Grace’s eyes at the thought and she blinked to clear her vision. “I don’t think it’s the best thing at all. It would kill both of them to leave all this. This is their life. Without the farm what would they do?”
“Sit around all day and watch television,” Michael said.
“What television?” Grace asked.
“I’m sure wherever they ended up would have one.”
“That’s a depressing thought.” Sadie, who had been lying a few feet away, stood and whined, her tail wagging. Farther out in the field came an excited bark and an explosion of indignant squawking as Max galloped through a flock of chickens. “That’s my cue to go,” Grace said and followed after the dogs.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me what you were doing,” Michael called after her.
Grace ignored him and continued walking.
IT WAS A beautiful sunny day with thin, wispy cirrus clouds in the sky. The cloud formations reminded Emma of horsetails. Emma wasn’t sure why she agreed to visit the farm. It was a spur of the moment decision and one she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She barely remembered where Grace lived and ended up using Google to bring it up on a map. Vague recollections of when she was a child of her father driving out to the Moretti’s farm to pick up eggs on a Sunday for the week ahead flashed in her memory. Sometimes her mother and father would bring her to pick berries or in the fall they came to pick pumpkins and take a ride on one of the horse drawn wagons.
She never remembered seeing Grace on the farm during those visits. Even though they grew up in a small town, were in the same grade and graduated high school together, Emma felt she hardly knew Grace at all. So many years passed, but Emma had to admit something about Grace intrigued her. She had this calm, self-possessed way about her. When they sat together on the Adirondack chairs yesterday, Grace left her alone with her thoughts. There wasn’t this incessant need to fill up the quiet spaces with idle conversation and Emma appreciated that.
Lost in her thoughts, Emma missed the turn off for the farm and drove a quarter mile down the road before she could find a spot wide enough where she could turn around.
At five minutes after seven she was driving slowly up the gravel drive listening to the stones rattling off the bottom of her Mercedes. How ridiculous she thought, to be driving onto Grace’s farm in a Mercedes Benz. For a moment she felt self-conscious and out of place like she had no business being here. Emma shook off the intruding thought and focused on the fact that Grace had invited her.
Off to the right a couple hundred feet from the driveway, she observed the pale blue farmhouse with its wraparound porch. Two wooden rockers sat side by side at one end and she envisioned the elder Moretti’s sitting in them at the end of a long, hard day. Emma slowed and steered the car off to the side by the grass.
The sound of raucous deep chested barking grew closer and Emma caught her breath as two large dogs barreled towards her. They plowed to a stop in front of her car, both quivering with anticipation. She fervently prayed they were friendly with strangers.
Emma pulled the key from the ignition and hesitated. No one was in sight and she wondered if it was unwise for even considering stepping out of the car. On the other hand, if she waited until someone arrived she’d look foolish and afraid. Irritated with herself for worrying what anyone would think of her, Emma shoved the door open and stepped out saying a silent prayer that they were as least as friendly as they seemed when she saw them in the truck the other day.
“And what are your names, huh?” she said, keeping the door between her and the two intimidating German Shepherds. With one leg still inside the car she was ready to dive back in if the need arose.
She heard a shrill whistle and watched in fascination as they crashed down on their haunches, muscles tensed and ears at attention. Both dogs were black and tan with red highlights blending the color contrasts. Two pairs of deep-set intelligent brown eyes stared back at her.
Beyond them Emma caught sight of Grace trotting around the corner of the barn. “They heard the sound of your car and took off like lightening.”
“Sorry, I’m late. I drove right past the driveway. Can I pet them?” Emma asked stepping out from behind the door of her car.
“Sadie. Max. Friend.”
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In that instant they broke from their seated position and wove themselves around Emma’s legs. “You two are magnificent,” Emma said crouching down and ruffling their thick coats. “I was really hoping they weren’t going to take a chunk out of me.”
“Most people would choose to stay in the car when they see the two of them loose. You’ve got balls stepping out like that.”
“Either that or I’m just plain crazy.” Emma laughed when the smaller of the two dogs snuggled close and licked her face. “Who’s Sadie?”
“She’s the bigger one. Max is still a puppy. He’s eleven months old.”
“His paws are almost as big as the palm of my hand. He’s going to be huge,” Emma marveled.
“Yeah he’s going to be a big boy when he grows up.” On cue, Max wriggled closer and tipped Emma onto her backside.
“Oh!” Emma braced her hands behind her to keep from toppling all the way over.
“Max, sit.” He planted himself neatly between the crotch in Emma’s legs, his head back and tongue lolling out of his mouth in a big toothy grin.
Emma laughed and said, “What nice white teeth you have, Max.”
“Sorry.” Grace pulled Emma to her feet. “He’s a bit of a flirt.”
“Is he now?” Emma teased. “I would have never known.”
“We need to work on your manners, Max,” Grace said and ruffled the fur on his head. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
Sadie and Max ran ahead, jostling and bumping against each other in spirited play. In that instant, a gray streak exploded from the top of a bale of hay and raced between the two dogs. “What was that?”
“One of the barn cats,” Grace replied on her way across the yard. “The dogs think the cats exist to give them something to chase.”
“The cats must think the dogs are evil.” Emma lost sight of the cat as the dogs galloped around the barn.
“The cats think it’s their pre-ordained status to demonstrate they’re the superior intellect.” Grace stopped at the entry to the barn, waiting a beat before the gray tabby dashed in front of her and leapt back onto the bail of hay.
Emma laughed as the cat neatly curled its tail around its front paws. With a look of supreme contentment the feline began to vigorously clean its tail. “This is a regular occurrence?”