by Alexis Lynne
Justin could not help but laugh when the sneer became a scowl.
“Okay, so you are giving up everything—your job, your friends—to go play farmer. How are you ever going to find a wife in a town of three thousand people?”
He laughed, relieved that she was now teasing him. “Now you really do sound like your mother. And you know as well as I do that the job has been part of the problem. There’s no way I could maintain those hours and give Marley the attention she needs. I’ve always hated it and, honestly, only became a lawyer to join a rival firm just to spite my old man. I just don’t have the killer instinct you do.”
Ann smiled proudly. “No, you don’t. You are the black sheep of the family, the one with morals and a sense of obligation to the world.”
“Like you don’t.”
“I’m better at hiding it than you are. I’m sorry if I sound unsupportive. I actually admire what you are willing to do to give your sister a better life. I’m just going to miss having my best friend close by, especially now.”
“Why especially now?” She did not answer right away, which alarmed him. He returned to the bed and looked at her. “Annie?”
She smiled, and the knot in his stomach relaxed a little.
“While you are off digging in the dirt, I’ll be growing a different sort of variety.”
“You’re pregnant?” The concern he was trying to keep to himself must have shown because his cousin reached over and touched his arm.
“There is absolutely no reason why I cannot have a perfectly normal, healthy pregnancy. I’ve done all the research, talked to all the right people, and have all the best doctors.”
Justin knew she would be getting it from all sides, knowing that both her husband, another high- powered attorney in their firm, and her mother would dote on her so much she would go nuts. He decided not to add his own concerns into the mix. Annie could handle herself and anything life handed her just fine.
“Yeah, but you’re clumsy on a good day. How the hell are you going to manage with a big, round stomach? You’re going to take a corner too fast and end up tipping over. I can see you on your back like a turtle waiting for someone to tip you back up.”
Ann pinched him hard. “See. I need you to help keep me from going insane. Garret is already in full protector mode…and my mother!”
“I can imagine. Has she offered to move in with you yet?”
The pained look on her face told him yes.
“They both want me to quit the firm. They think it is too high stress and not good for the baby.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think it’s ridiculous. Women, even the special ones, do manage pregnancy and careers. Still, I have always planned to stay home once we started a family. I might talk a big game, Justin, but this is brand new territory for me. I can’t help but be a little nervous.”
“No one knows what’s best for you better than you do. Follow your gut. It’s never led you wrong.”
“Is that what you are doing now? Following your gut?”
Justin nodded. “You are going to make fun of me, no doubt, but when I flew down to look at the place, it just felt right. It needs a lot of work, but I think it will be good for Marley to help with the repairs. I hope she will feel part of something larger, that there is more to the world than grief and anger.”
“And who is going to help you with the repairs, Mr. Never Get My Hands Dirty Attorney?”
“Do I have to remind you that although my father was the never-get-his-hands-dirty type, my mother’s family were builders? I paid attention during my summer jobs on their sites, so I won’t be completely helpless.”
“They built skyscrapers, not barns, and they never lived far outside of the city either.”
“Like I said, it’s time for something new.”
Finally, Ann’s shoulders slumped, and she picked up a shirt to fold and place in his suitcase. “I guess there’s nothing left to talk about. Let’s get you packed and out of the city, Famer Brown.”
Chapter Three
“Well, kiddo, what do you think?”
Marley looked up from her phone as if she just realized they had stopped. Pulling out her earbuds, she looked at him and then the house and snorted.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Justin was so relieved not to be stepping into silence that he ignored the snide tone.
“Nope. This is our new home—all two thousand square feet and eighteen acres. Plenty of room to move and spread out.”
“Definitely not the city. Probably can’t even get decent takeout.”
“Probably not, and when I was here looking at the place, cell reception was pretty spotty. I guess we’ll have to learn how to cook and talk to each other.”
The horrified look on her face was harder to ignore.
“Come on. Imagine the possibilities. Some paint. Some hard labor. A little love and care is all it needs, and then it will be ours forever.”
“Isn’t that what they say about strays?”
Justin laughed. “Well, I suppose you and I are the strays in this situation. You have three bedrooms to choose from. Wanna go check them out?”
She shrugged and got out of the car, carefully walking up the steps as if they might give way any moment. She was right to be cautious. The old farmhouse had not been cared for in the last few years and was clearly showing its age. But the bones were good. He had made sure of that before he purchased the place. He had no idea what he would do with all the land, but he had time to consider his options. The privilege of wealth was choice. His wealth had come with a hard price. Sometimes he wished for fewer options.
Carefully sliding from the car, he stretched his muscles, stiff from hours behind the wheel. He was tempted to follow behind his sister but remembered her counselor’s words about giving her space to explore her own feelings. He would give her the chance to form her own opinion of the place before he insisted on pushing his.
When he decided to start fresh, he meant it, so all they had brought with them were clothes and a few sentimental items. He unloaded the suitcases and few boxes onto the porch and then allowed his anxiousness over Marley to get the best of him and made his way up the stairs to the bedrooms. The master was on the first floor, and three additional bedrooms were upstairs. He did not find her in any of them, however, so he called out to her.
“I’m up here.”
He turned to see a set of pull-down stairs just down the hall. Assuming they led to an attic of some sort, he carefully walked up them. The space seemed to run nearly the entire width of the house, with slanted ceilings and two small windows in the far wall. A few boxes were stacked in a corner with an old wooden easel propped against them.
“The former owners must have left some stuff. I’ll call the realtor and ask her how to get it to them.”
“I want this to be my room.”
He turned to her in surprise. “This is an attic, Marley. It’s meant for storage, not for living in.”
“You said we were going to make this into a home. Why can’t we turn this into a bedroom?”
Justin had to hunch slightly as he walked around. Some of the beams were low, but since Marley was unlikely to reach his six-foot-plus height, she wouldn’t be banging her head in the years to come. It was an interesting space. He could see why a kid would want to hang out up there.
“We’d have to put in a real staircase and better floors. You wouldn’t have a bathroom up here.”
She just shrugged and continued to look around, as if imagining how it would look. Justin was pleased but still a little apprehensive. There would be an entire floor between them. The feeling that she wanted it that way bothered him.
“Well, are you going to let this be my room or not?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to sleep in one of the other bedrooms until some work is done up here. Go on down and decide which one, and then we’ll go into town to do some shopping and have dinner.”
Marley walked
passed him without saying anything, but he could see the gratitude in her features. That small smile made him feel like the best brother on the planet, and though he knew it wasn’t likely to last long, he reveled in it.
A cloud passed in the sky, darkening the room further. Justin walked to the far side of the space, studying the two small windows there. The room would definitely need more light, perhaps with one large window instead of the two small ones providing some of it. He had to lean over slightly to look out, but the view from that angle was quite stunning. A large pasture spread out in between the back of the house and the base of a tree-covered mountain. The dark green leaves were starting to give way to the season with patches of red and gold beginning to spread throughout. Marley would have the best view in the house.
He smiled and pulled out his phone, texting the builder he had researched and spoken to just before the move. He wanted to get estimates right away so he could give his sister the room she wanted, hopefully by Christmas if not sooner. He felt good. This was the right place for them. How could it be wrong when it was so lovely. The thought had barely registered when the light flickered and went out.
* * *
The sound of a cork popping from a bottle reached Tara’s ears, and despite the current fog clouding her mind, she readily looked up to see her smiling sister holding a bottle of wine.
“I thought this might get your attention.” Shelby set three large glasses down on the coffee table and began pouring. “It’s been weeks, sweetie. You can’t keep moping about this. It isn’t in your nature. It’s over. The new owner has probably moved in by now.”
Tara took a large drink and then looked into her glass. “He has. I saw a car in the driveway yesterday.”
“Tara, please don’t become some creepy stalker.”
She sat up straighter and narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean? I just happened to be out that way.”
Shelby sat down beside her and curled her legs beneath her.
“That way is nothing but land and a long stretch of road. You had no reason to be out there except to spy, little sister.”
Tara said nothing, just grimaced and took another drink.
“Well, what all did you see?”
“Nothing, just a car and a few boxes on the porch. He must have just gotten there. I hate the idea of some hipster coming in and turning our family’s farm into some upscale lemonade stand or something equally stupid.”
“You don’t know that’s what he’s going to do. You know nothing at all about the man.”
“You’re right. All I know is he stole the only thing I ever wanted.”
“Then maybe it’s time to want something else.” Tara and Shelby turned to see Charlotte coming into the room, carrying her laptop and wearing a scowl that nearly matched Tara’s. “Oh good, there’s wine. Seriously, Tara, think about something else. Do something else. Paint something other than views from different places on the farm. Anything except this determination to be miserable.”
Shelby reached over to give Tara’s arm a gentle squeeze that matched her sympathetic gaze. Charlotte plopped down beside her, taking the last wine glass off the table and replacing it with her computer. Tara was stuck between nurturer and pragmatist when what she really wanted was someone to spew anger and bitterness right along with her. Considering she had no desire to see her mother just then, she poured more wine.
“Why do you have your laptop with you? Are you writing?” Tara winced inwardly. Her stepsister had hidden behind her job as a freelance editor and virtual assistant for indie authors for years instead of working on her own book. She was a confident woman in all aspects of her life, except her writing, and she had been stuck on the same page for months. Apparently, Tara could spew viciousness without her mother’s help. Charlotte, however, was classy enough not to take the bait.
“Get another bottle of wine, ladies. Actually, coffee might be the better choice. One of my clients has joined the video podcasting trend.”
“Don’t you encourage your clients to take advantage of new practices?” Shelby asked as she walked to the kitchen for another bottle.
“Yes, I do, but if she had mentioned this to me first, I would have advised her against it. You’ve heard of a face meant for radio? Well, this woman has a personality meant for paper.”
Tara laughed, honestly laughed, for the first time in weeks, and tension eased from her and from the room. Part of her knew she had been making everyone around her miserable, but she just wasn’t quite ready to move on. Dreams are not always so easy to let go of.
Charlotte opened her laptop. “Okay, girls, please tell me this isn’t as bad as I am making it out to be. This is her third one, and she has just now asked me for feedback.”
They watched as a washed-out, flat-voiced author spoke about—something. It was hard to tell with all the long pauses, random rants, and overall monotony of both her appearance and voice. There was one brief break from the flatness of it all when she turned her head and, honest to god, burped, loudly, during a live broadcast.
Charlotte covered her face with her hands and let out a soft sigh. “I’m going to lose another client.”
“She asked you for your feedback, so surely she wants to improve. She won’t fire you.”
Tara wasn’t so sure, and the look on Char’s face said she agreed.
“She already fired me once for telling her the truth. I edited one book for her—well, half a book. I sent her an honest critique, which is what she asked for, and I didn’t hear back from her for weeks. When I finally did, she told me that she had found friends to edit for her and that, in the future, she would only need me for marketing. When I tell her the truth this time, she’s going to decide she doesn’t need me at all.”
“So she really doesn’t want to improve. She just wants to do whatever she wants and magically have people like it. That’s not art. That’s a hobby. You shouldn’t want to work with someone like that.”
“I don’t, but I do want to pay the bills. Anyway, that particular paycheck is a good as gone. You guys will foot the liquor purchases, won’t you?”
Tara set down her glass and wrapped her arms around her sister, proud that Charlotte would not compromise truth just to get paid. If she ever found the courage to continue her own writing, Tara knew her sister would never produce anything that wasn’t honest, just as art should be.
“Absolutely. I have a down payment that isn’t going to be used. I might as well spend it on hooch.”
“Now that’s a much better attitude.” Shelby returned her attention to the screen. “Do y’all remember when the radio station used to get people from the retirement home to come to the studio and read from the newspaper? There was that one woman who kept mispronouncing Beyoncé, and we had to turn it off because it was just too uncomfortable to see how out of touch she was. I think I prefer her to this.”
Charlotte groaned. “It’s actually a great idea, and I respect her for trying something new, but if we have this reaction, most of her readers will, too.”
“Tell her that. Surely she doesn’t want to look bad in front of her readers.” Shelby was always the one who could see the bright side of everybody else’s problems.
Charlotte snorted. “I guarantee you that if she thought it would sell books, she’d do ten of these a day. She’s always been about marketing more than words. I suggested once that she start a book club for her readers. She said she didn’t have time to read.”
“But she’s a writer. That’s like me not going to museums or other artists’ studios. An artist gets inspiration from art. I don’t like this person very much. Don’t work with her anymore.”
Tara was happy to have a new object of derision. She would likely be more sympathetic if she were sober, but for now, she would dislike this stranger with all the power of her own disappointment behind her.
Charlotte closed the laptop and sat back against the couch. “Bottom line, she does sell books. She’s not a best seller, but what she does is good
enough for her. If her readers are happy, then what I think doesn’t matter.”
Those were lovely and true words, but Tara knew it went deeper than that. When you care so much for something, it is hard to be around people who don’t. Losing the farm hurt, but seeing the new owner neglecting such a gift would be worse. She finished her wine and closed her eyes, trying to find some vision that would bring her peace.
Chapter Four
Inhaling the strong, delicious scent of the coffee he just purchased, Justin sat down on a bench on the corner of Main and some other side street and watched the cars go by. Traffic was light. Most of the downtown shops had not yet opened, and he figured, by this time, most people were already at work or, like him, had dropped off their kids at school.
His coffee rested in one hand as he draped his arms on the back of the bench. The cool morning air ruffled his hair and helped calm his nerves after what was quickly becoming a typical hellish morning with Marley. That morning’s argument centered around black lipstick and the ever-present phone glued to her hand. He hated the tension between them, but at least when she was yelling at him, she was not silent with her eyes focused on the screen.
He shoved down the niggling feeling that he was in over his head and reminded himself, again, that it would take time. The doubt inside him rose enough to whisper that it had been months since Marley came to him. How much more time would they need? It was a slight thought, but enough to make his stomach clinch and allow the fear of failing to wash over him. This was not a court case he could appeal after a loss. This was a life, his sister’s life, and failure was not an option.
The sound of bells tinkling a few doors down distracted him from his dark thoughts. He turned toward the sound to see that a door had been propped open. Taking that as an invitation, he rose and took one last drink of coffee before depositing the cup in the trash and making his way toward the shop.
As he entered, soft music reached his ears only a moment before he registered familiar, woodsy smells with a touch of something softer mixed in, floral, he supposed. It was comforting and interesting at the same time, as was the eclectic mix of art and pottery pieces he saw as he looked around. This, he figured, was far more authentic than what he saw just a few doors down in the windows of the large General Store. This shop did not cater to the bargain hunters, but to those with a genuine desire to experience the beauty of the area, either in creating or taking the artwork home to enjoy.