by Lynne Norris
Her mother made a face of disapproval and said, “Come down and live with me while the repairs are being made. At least it’s clean and safe. You have no idea who’s living around here anymore. I drove past houses that look empty. The front yards haven’t been kept up and the lots are overgrown with weeds. One has a notice on the front door. I bet the owner was foreclosed on.”
“I just got settled here. I’m not going to pick up and move again.”
“You’d be so much closer to the city. You could easily take the train in for interviews.”
There was her mother’s motive laid out for her, Emma thought. “No thanks, Mom. I’m staying here.”
“It would be better than living out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s your opinion, but this is where I want to be,” Emma said.
“Who did you hire to fix the damage?” Lillian left her coffee cup on the counter and walked down the hall. She peaked into each bedroom and then disappeared into the bathroom.
Emma glanced at Lindsey and rolled her eyes. “No one.”
“What did you say?” Lillian stepped out of the bathroom.
“I said, no one.” Emma fought to keep her voice even.
“I don’t understand why haven’t you hired anyone?”
“I’m trying to do as much as I can myself.”
“Since when? You don’t know anything about construction or repairs,” Lillian said scrutinizing Emma with an expression that told her she wasn’t buying a word of it.
“Since I’m here and I have the time,” Emma said hoping her mother would back off on the Spanish inquisition.
“I just don’t understand why you would want to stay here. You don’t even know anyone.”
Emma and Lindsey exchanged a glance. Lindsey sucked her lips in stifling a grin. “That’s not exactly true,” Lindsey coughed as Emma smartly elbowed her in the ribs.
“Thanks,” Emma hissed. “Just remember paybacks are a bitch.”
Lillian strolled back down the hallway her eyes darting between her two daughters. “Or do you?”
“You remember the Moretti’s,” Emma said.
“Yes, I remember the family. There are two boys and a girl. All grown up now I suppose. That land is certainly worth a small fortune now. I’m surprised they haven’t sold it and retired.”
“Michael and Grace help out on the farm,” Emma said.
“They both went to college. Why would they want to be back on the farm doing that kind of back breaking work?”
“There’s more than just the physical labor. Someone has to manage when they plant and harvest the produce and then there’s all the animals they raise.”
“Oh. Sounds like you know quite a bit about their operation,” Lillian said raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you knew the family that well.”
“Grace took Emma around the farm on horseback this morning,” Lindsey said.
“Horseback? Since when do you ride horseback?” Lillian asked.
“Since Grace taught me.”
With a displeased expression on her face Lillian shook her head.
“What’s the matter?” Emma asked.
“There were always stories about the Moretti’s. Wild parties and there’s plenty of other stories I heard over the years.”
“They’re just rumors,” Emma snapped. “You don’t know any of what you just told me is true.”
“True or not, people listen to rumors. It’s human nature.”
“It’s gossip, Mother,” Lindsey said coming to Emma’s defense. “Even if it’s true what does it matter now?”
“You should be careful who you choose to spend your time with Emma. You’re trying to rebuild a career. Don’t get dragged down by choosing the wrong people to keep company with.”
AFTER BRUSHING DOWN the horses and giving them fresh water, Grace let them out into one of the pastures to roam for the day. She strolled past the cows while walking down the hill, her eyes studying the growth in the meadows. They mooed hello in between munching on weeds and grass.
Friends might think she was crazy. A couple had told her just that when they came home for the holidays. Grace held her tongue while they lectured her on the finer points of the life she was supposedly missing by living on the farm. She nodded and pretended she was listening, counting the minutes until they needed to catch their flight back to the city. It didn’t matter what they thought. She felt alive participating in the daily rituals of farm life.
Above her she heard a deep gurgling croak rising in pitch and the repeated shrill calls. Two ravens, perched atop of an evergreen on the same branch they shared for the past few weeks, were creating the ruckus. Grace glanced skyward searching for the source of their agitation.
She found it sitting on top of the silo. A magnificent eagle balanced on the ridgeline, keenly observing its domain. Grace wondered what captured the eagle’s attention. Perhaps an unlucky squirrel or rabbit drew the predator’s interest. Whatever it was the site of the avian was breathtaking.
Grace could feel the pulse of the farm while she walked over the hills and rolling pastures. It was times like these, when she was alone, that she considered the path she’d taken in life. She had few regrets about the decisions she made over the years and the one she least regretted was coming back here to help her parents manage the farm.
Her life was far from glamorous. Splitting wood, mending fences, herding cows from one pasture to another was a far cry from coaching women’s soccer and winning championships, but it made her feel alive. At the end of each day, when she returned to the farmhouse, there was a meal made of farm grown food and family to share it with.
Over the years of growing up and working on the farm, Grace became a jack-of-all-trades. Plumber, electrician, vet, midwife and mechanic—today’s specialty. When an equipment dealer was going out of business a few years back, Grace dragged Michael with her to negotiate a deal for a cat. Not the real four-legged furry meow making kind. They had enough of those mousers running around the farm already.
No, this beauty was a bulldozer with a rear winch. It was a trade-in and Grace managed to get it for forty percent off what the dealer paid for it. She was proud of herself—it was seventy-five percent off retail and hey, her mother had always taught her to never buy anything at full price. Of course, her mother hadn’t had heavy machinery in mind when she taught Grace that valuable lesson all those years ago.
The winch developed a bad seal and wouldn’t shut off the last time she used it to skid out firewood logs in the woods. She spent a couple of hours taking the drum apart, figured out what the problem was and ordered a twenty-five dollar part from an online supplier. It arrived two days ago and today she was intent on fixing it so they could get back to logging. Her efforts would save them close to a thousand dollars in what was an uncomplicated repair job.
There were a couple of hours of work ahead of her and Grace was glad for the distraction since she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Emma, which was ridiculous. Lord knows they had nothing in common. Although, she did seem genuinely interested in how they ran the farm, Grace doubted it was anything more than Emma politely engaging in conversation.
Footsteps behind her drew Grace’s attention. Michael stood in the doorway with his arms folded watching her. “You didn’t waste any time getting started.”
Grace spared him an irritated glance as she secured the cables around the drum. “We’ve got a half dozen downed trees to pull out of the woods.”
She activated the switch on the pulleys and guided the drum out of its mount and over to the worktable. Her father had designed the mechanical lift with reinforced ceiling tracks that allowed the load to be maneuvered to one of two work areas in the garage bay.
“I’m not talking about the winch you’re hauling out of the cat.”
“What are you talking about then?” Grace threaded out the bolts one by one and removed the housing.
“Emma Chamberlain.”
“I was show
ing her around the farm.”
“On horseback,” Michael added.
“Careful, someone might think you’re honing your observation skills,” Grace said while she used a nut driver to remove the drum support housing from the motor and disassembled it.
“And you’re a smart ass.”
“There you are.” Grace located the worn gasket and after a few minutes of fighting with it, pried the offending rubber loose. The new gasket was easy to install and she was finished with the repair quickly. “Are you planning on helping out or are you just on a fact finding mission for Mom?”
“You are no fun at all.” Michael pushed off the wall with an exaggerated sigh and walked towards her. “I thought you weren’t going to get involved with her.”
“I’m not. I’m just being neighborly.”
“Uh huh.”
“Hand me those gloves.” Grace pointed to a box on a shelf. “Thanks.”
Grace rubbed marine grade grease on all the gears, examining each mechanism as she went. Satisfied with her work, she reassembled the motor and housing then mounted the winch back onto the cat with the pulley system.
“By the way, what ever possessed you to hire Paula?”
“Why?”
Grace shot Michael a death look. “She’s not a good fit with the rest of the team.”
“I heard she’s looking to take a big juicy bite out of you.” Michael said with a big goofy grin on his face.
“Oh you think that’s funny. Do you?”
“Hey! Dammit that hurt.” Michael ducked away holding his arm where Grace had slugged him.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“One of the guys came back to the barn to get something and found you two in a clinch.”
“It was not a clinch,” Grace protested. “Jesus, the woman practically crawled on top of me.”
“And you’re complaining. I should have such problems,” Michael protested still rubbing his bicep. “Son of a bitch. That’s going to leave a bruise.”
“Stop whining,” Grace said.
“You punched me.”
“You deserved it. Why did you hire her?”
“She had a degree in animal husbandry from Michigan State and she knows her way around the farm.”
“I thought we agreed to hire the interns together.” Grace narrowed her eyes peering closely at him. “You’ve got that look on your face that tells me you’re guilty as hell about something.”
Michael looked away. “Tony asked me to hire her.”
“Come again? How does Tony know a girl from MSU? Better yet, why would you listen to him about hiring someone to work here?”
“It was a favor.” Michael stepped back as Grace brushed past him.
“A favor for what?”
“He said I owed him for when I wouldn’t loan him the money.”
“You’re telling me you let him guilt you into hiring someone?” Grace packed the tools away into her father’s heavy-duty red storage chest. “Now I really don’t like her.”
“Why?”
Grace closed the drawer of the chest banging it louder than she needed to. “I know Tony is family, but I don’t trust his motives.”
“Wow.”
Grace turned and braced her hands on top of the chest. “Do you?”
“Not really.”
“He must have really worked on you to hire her,” Grace said.
“So that’s it? You’re not telling me anything else about you and Emma?” Michael asked.
“You’re nosier than a girl.” Grace climbed up into the bulldozer.
“Come on.”
“Nope. I’m going to take the cat out for a test run. Want to come for a ride?”
Chapter Ten
EMMA SAT ALONE in her father’s cottage watching the second-hand tick by on the clock. She’d been reading a book, something she hadn’t done in ages, when she felt a wave of depression sweep over her. There was no warning. One minute light, the next dark, like she was drowning and the surface of the water was too far away to reach in time. She was acutely aware of how alone she felt.
Emma stared at the hole in the living room wall and slumped down into a chair. She didn’t know how to fix it, just like she didn’t know how to fix the gaping wound in her soul. There was something wrong with so much of her identity being wrapped up in what she did for work.
Lost.
She felt lost like a ship without a rudder drifting aimlessly at sea. It shouldn’t be this way to have worked so hard for so long to have everything she accomplished ripped away. Everything she believed in and thought to be true was not. Loyalty and fidelity, words so easily bantered around the financial industry meant little when the trust they evoked was so callously broken.
It was time to be getting ready to drive over to the Moretti’s. She imagined what the celebration would be like at the farm. There would be food, laughter and life. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to be around any festivity.
God, she felt hollow, dead inside. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come anymore. It was an enormous effort to get up and think about getting dressed. Emptiness swallowed her and she struggled not to let it suck her into its all-consuming black void.
If she didn’t go, would anyone miss her?
She wondered what Grace would think if she didn’t show up. Maybe she’d be angry or indifferent. She didn’t know why she cared what Grace thought. They were so different and their lives had taken completely different paths since high school. Chances are it wasn’t Grace, but Mrs. Moretti who invited her. Did any of it matter? Emma shook her head in disgust for indulging in yet another jag of self-pity. It seemed to be something she was good at lately.
Except for her visit with Lindsey and her mother, Emma had spent most of the week holed up in the house. Her mother was aghast at the damage and wanted to hire someone immediately to fix everything. Emma said no, more out of stubborn pride and not wanting to be beholden to her mother for anything.
What the hell was she doing here? She should be out pounding the pavement looking for a job. Instead here she was hiding out in her hometown licking her wounds.
Pathetic.
Emma had no idea what she was trying to accomplish by being here at her father’s cottage. She was living off her unemployment checks for now. She had time she told herself. Time for what she still hadn’t figured out. Maybe divine intervention would strike.
Her job search had turned up exactly nothing. What if she didn’t find anything? What then? She had no idea and that alone was terrifying her. She was supposed to be working. Maybe she should go back to New York City and take a job doing anything just so she could be close to where Wall Street was. That was where she was supposed to be, but Wall Street had kicked her to the curb and didn’t want its discards back.
Emma cursed at the effort it took to walk to the bathroom. She took a quick shower trying to wash away the fatigue that walked hand-in-hand with the depression. After she brushed some blush on her cheeks she studied herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were a little hollow. It was hard to cook for one person and her appetite had fled with her enthusiasm for everyday life. She forced a smile, flicked off the light and grabbed her purse on the way out the door.
When she arrived at the Moretti’s farm she was surprised to see the number of cars that made a line up the driveway. Thankful for having the common sense to dress casually and wear walking shoes, she parked behind the last vehicle, picked up the pot of brightly colored Gerber daisies she bought on her way over and walked toward the farmhouse.
A green net suspended between tree branches created a shady roof from the heat of the afternoon sun. Beneath it, three long trestle tables were set up in a row surrounded by chairs for thirty people. Citronella candles dotted the top of each table.
One of the trucks the Moretti’s used to bring food to the farmer’s markets was parked in front of one of the outbuildings and two men unloaded empty crates and boxes from the back.
Laughte
r and happy voices floated from one of the open windows in the house. Heaviness settled in Emma’s gut and she struggled to put a smile on her face before she walked up onto the porch. She barely took a step when the screen door banged open and two curly haired boys burst through the opening laughing and squealing on their way past her. Intent on their mission, they barely noticed her as they raced up the driveway and out of sight, their young exuberant voices carried away on the breeze.
Emma climbed the steps and knocked on the door. Lucy Moretti appeared in the hallway wearing an apron around her waist with a towel hanging from one of the pockets.
“Emma! Don’t stand out there. Come in. Come in.” She welcomed her kissing her once on each cheek. “I’m so glad you came.”
“Thanks for having me. These are for you, Mrs. Moretti.” She handed the pot to her.
“They’re beautiful, so bright and cheerful—pinks, reds and yellows.” She lifted the pot and turned it in her hands. “I love them. We’ll put them out on one of the tables. Put your bag in the closet. One more thing Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Call me Lucy from now on.”
“I’ll try.”
Lucy opened the door to a closet. “Put your bag on the shelf. It’ll be fine there. Now let me introduce you,” Lucy said as she welcomed Emma into the kitchen where she was met with an even warmer blast of air. The rich smell of basil, oregano, tomatoes and garlic filled the air. Two enormous pots were bubbling away on the stove.
“Everyone this is Emma. She and Grace know each other from high school.” A half dozen people looked up from their work around the kitchen, smiled and said hello.
“That’s Rose by the sink. Arturo and Nate are at the end of the table and Jessica by the stove. That’s Paula,” Lucy said indicating a red-haired green-eyed beauty dressed in cut-off shorts with fringe barely covering the generous curve of her ass. A blue button down shirt was tied below her breasts exposing her bare mid-drift. The woman walked over to the counter carrying a crate of red tomatoes the size of softballs.