The Farmhouse

by Elizabeth Bromke

  “Theo said he blew a tire on the way here. He’s moving back home, he told us. Has land somewhere. Gonna build on it.” Gretchen was growing bored of the conversation, and Maggie had no energy to devote to someone she barely knew anymore.

  “Mama, where are we going? I’m hungry,” Ky called from the far back seat.

  Maggie shifted into gear and took off. “We’re going to stay in a hotel everyone,” she declared, smiling as genuine a smile as she could muster. “And you can even order room service!”

  Gretchen flicked a sidelong glance to her mother. “Since when does the Hickory Grove Inn offer room service?”

  Just as Maggie began to shoot a smart retort to her oldest, Dakota interrupted. “Gretch, you’re getting a phone call.”

  “Who is it?” Gretchen asked.

  “Miss Becky.”

  “Oh, shoot,” Gretchen replied. “Just let it go to voicemail.”

  Dakota took the direction, and then Maggie’s own phone buzzed to life on the console. Now entirely suspicious, she took a deep breath. “I take it you told Becky. Answer my phone, Gretchen May Engel.”

  Gretchen snatched up the device and held it to her chest. “I’m sorry, Mom. I told Theo. I wanted to help.”

  “You told him about our business? Becky Linden is my best friend. She already knows my business. If I want to tell her more of it, then I reserve that right from now on. Give me the dang phone, young lady.”

  The eighteen-year-old tapped Accept and passed the device over.

  “Hi, Beck.” Maggie sighed into the phone before launching into a full-blown explanation of the day’s events.

  Yes, everyone’s fine.

  No, they didn’t need her help.

  She promised. She swore.

  No, they couldn’t stay in the house. Not even one more night.

  Technically, yes, they could stay in the house several more nights, but it was a true eviction notice.

  Bank-owned.

  Maggie had to leave. With the kids. Pronto.

  Becky pressed her on this one. “Is it Travis? Are you afraid of him?”

  Maggie glanced to Gretchen who was watching and listening as well as she could through the squabbling in the back seat.

  “No,” Maggie replied. “But I don’t think it’s smart for us to sit there and wait. The woman on the phone said an offer had been made on the house, and if I can’t match or beat it with cash, then the new owners could make us leave immediately.”

  Becky fought this point, claiming she could bring Zack Durbin in on the case, but Maggie refused. She did not have the cash. And if Travis did, then maybe pigs could fly, too. And even if pigs could fly, Maggie saw the whole mess as her chance to get out from under him. “I’ll figure something out,” Maggie insisted. “I don’t want to discuss it right now. Kids are here.” She looked over her shoulder.

  “Maggie, what is your long-term plan? You can’t just live in a hotel room indefinitely.”

  Her best friend had a point. “True. Okay, Beck. If I can’t pull something together in two nights, then I’ll ask Zack for help. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Becky huffed. “Mags, just... be smart for once, okay?”

  It took every last ounce of strength Maggie could muster not to totally hang up on her friend. Pulling from her deepest reserves, she bid Becky a terse farewell just as they pulled up to the Hickory Grove Inn.

  The building itself was a converted mansion or boarding house of some sort. Practically ancient—for the area—and looming at the very end of Overlook Lane. But the new owner had made it work as a cross between a hostel and a charming bed-and-breakfast.

  Maggie left the children in the car to go and see about a vacancy. The snow had finally stopped, and she moved quickly up the crumbly, salted steps wondering what in the world she would do if there were no available rooms.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she stalled outside the front door to answer it. Fern Gale.

  Great.

  “Hi, Fern,” Maggie answered, unwilling to avoid the inevitable. “I guess you heard? Or saw?” Though Fern was Maggie’s next-door neighbor, that didn’t mean she had instant access to the drama unfolding one door down. On Pine Tree Lane, every property was over an acre in size, and Fern’s was several.

  Fern’s warm voice nearly brought Maggie to tears. Any pity was hard to take, but coming from sweet Fern—the redhead almost broke. “Maggie, I hope you will bring the kids here to stay. You know I have more than enough room. I’d love to have you.”

  Maggie thanked her second-best friend profusely but declined, asserting that they had a plan and all would be well. She swallowed a sob.

  “What about all your belongings?” Fern pried.

  “I’ll get them. I just—I need space. I’ll send someone. Hire someone, even. We wanted to make a clean break.” Maggie cringed at her own turn of phrase. She wasn’t running from anything.

  Was she?

  Chapter 8 — Rhett

  Rhett was tired of treading slippery sidewalks and through the snow-encrusted intersections of downtown Hickory Grove, so he took Gary Hart up on his offer of a ride.

  It was a pity offer. The realtor had sworn up and down that if he knew Rhett was coming back to Hickory Grove, he never would have signed the contract to build a storefront on the Houston’s former land.

  But the money had already changed hands. The plans were set. Rhett could have offered double what Gary had paid, but he knew—deep down—that it wasn’t meant to be.

  Rhett hadn’t been much of a religious man in his adulthood, but he believed that when God closed a door, he opened a window. Somewhere.

  However, outbidding the pot-bellied realtor was not an open window.

  “Got a place in mind? The garage?” Gary asked as the car engine’s hum reached their seats.

  Rhett sat quietly, his phone uselessly cupped in his hand, and considered his options. The garage was closed, obviously. He could kill more time at Mally’s until someone came to pick him up, but who would?

  The last thing he wanted to do was to call Emma. He didn’t want to deal with her passive aggressive comments and questions, like why he hadn’t replaced his spare tire a year before. He didn’t want to deal with her subtle irritation at having to drive over an hour-and-a-half on a Monday night.

  She had work the next morning, Rhett. He could hear her now. And it was true. No one wanted to take their evening to drive into Indiana and back. It was a rough spot to be sure.

  And, anyway, he still had to get his truck back. There was no point in going anywhere... not yet.

  “Any motels crop up in town lately?” he asked Gary. “I’m sure Travis will be back tomorrow. I can get my truck then and get outta Dodge.” What he didn’t add was that the whole experience had cemented in him the deep aversion to ever returning to Hickory Grove.

  “Sounds good. I know a place,” Gary answered, nodding along as he rolled out of his office and onto Main Street. “And Rhett, if you decide you do want to make a home here, I know a place that might come open in the near future.”

  “Oh?” Rhett replied, humoring the older man.

  “Sure, sure. Pine Tree Lane. The Engel house. They went underwater months ago. The bank is finally putting their foot down with those folks. Now, someone else recently made an offer, mind you, but if it falls through—”

  Gary kept jabbering away, but Rhett had stopped listening. Pressure built in his ears and a pain cut through his heart. “Hang on. Are you talking about Maggie Devereux’s house?”

  The realtor bristled, his ruddy cheeks turning a deeper shade of red and his smile dropping into a deep frown. “Why, yes. It’s a sad, sad situation. I admit. She was in my office just before you showed up, in fact. Trying to bribe me, I might add.” The round man huffed, but Rhett couldn’t refrain from an eye roll. “Now, don’t get me wrong, Rhett. I like Maggie and her friend Becky just fine. Really, I do. They are lovely ladies. But it’s not my fault she—”

  “—Married a lose
r?” Rhett finished the man’s sentence in time for the sedan to heave to a stop outside their destination. “Thanks for the ride, Gary.” He popped out of the car and let the door fall shut without so much as a wave.

  Shoving his hands in his coat pocket, Rhett stomped up and away from the steaming vehicle. He knew Gary was a good person at heart. But his gossip was unwelcome. Especially when it came to two dear friends, one of whom needed help rather than judgment. It occurred to Rhett, as he opened the front door to a clanging bell above, exactly why Maggie had hung up on him.

  She was in a crisis.

  A far deeper crisis than Rhett. But what also dawned on him was that he may not get his tire fixed anytime soon. And Travis Engel may not be the one to do it at all.

  For all he knew, Travis and Maggie and Gretchen and the rest of the Engel clan had already bailed out of town.

  It made perfect and crushing sense. Maybe there was no use in getting a room for the night, after all.

  Desperate and disappointed, he reluctantly tapped a quick text to Emma, bringing her up to speed and telling her he would need his spare truck key and a spare tire or else he’d have to have the beast towed back to Louisville, which felt somehow crummier than his original idea of sticking around.

  Unsurprisingly, her reply came immediately. Though she hadn’t said no, the tone of her message was clear. If Rhett expected Emma to drive into Hickory Grove and back to Louisville all on a Monday night, then he’d be wishing he’d just paid for a room and prayed Travis was still around somewhere.

  Rhett blew out a sigh and replied that he’d figure it out, no thanks to her, before slipping the phone back in his pocket and opening the door to the Hickory Grove Inn.

  Chapter 9 — Maggie

  The clerk had just handed Maggie two room keys—new-fangled key cards were still a thing of the future in tiny Hickory Grove—complete with weathered plastic keychain tags, when she turned around and stepped smack into the solid torso of a towering man. “Sorry,” she muttered, her eyes downcast as she tried to circumnavigate his imposing shape in order to return to the kids.

  The worrisome redhead nibbled at flakes of dry skin around her thumbnail as she thought ahead to digging through Travis’s boxes of financial records in the hopes of finding a clue. Something that would help her piece together her plan. Her neck had grown achy with tension and a headache nagged along her temples.

  “Maggie?” An incredulous—and familiar—voice snapped her to attention.

  Her hand dropped to her side and she gawked up. “Rhett?” She couldn’t help it. A broad smile broke out across her face. Maggie shook her head. “Rhett Houston?” she repeated, remembering his text and phone call from earlier in the day. It felt like a whole week had passed since she hung up on him.

  He opened his hands in surprise, and in spite of herself, she copied the gesture, and—awkwardly—they fell into a warm hug. It reminded her of high school. He even smelled the same. “Are you still wearing Curve?” she accused playfully, though on the inside a groan crept up. The last thing she wanted was to explain to her old friend why she was holing up in a local B&B for the night.

  A white lie tickled its way to her head.

  Rhett chuckled and nodded, releasing her as his face fell. “So,” he began awkwardly, his face creased in either sympathy or confusion. She couldn’t quite read it.

  “Oh, you’re probably wondering what we’re doing here.” A high-pitched laugh fumbled its way out of her mouth.

  He studied her, his brows falling low over his eyes. “Well, I—”

  “A pipe burst. Water leak. The whole kitchen is flooded, and the water isn’t stopping anytime soon...”

  “Oh,” he answered, scratching his jaw and averting his gaze beyond her to the clerk, and Maggie knew that Rhett knew exactly when she was fibbing and when she was telling the truth. He did back in twelfth grade and he did right in that moment. She tried her best to hold her ground, but he cleared his throat meaningfully. “I’m very sorry to hear that. Must be hard. Where’s your, ah... Where’s, um...”

  “Travis?” His name tasted like sour milk on her tongue. “Gone, I hope.” Maggie caught herself. “Well, I don’t know. It’s complicated. Um,” she shook her head and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “Sorry, Rhett. Like I said, it’s been a long day, and—”

  “Let’s grab a drink. You can tell me about it,” he answered, his consternation turning to warmth.

  Maggie sighed deeply. A drink with Rhett Houston would probably solve every single one of her problems. “The kids,” she replied, lifting her hand helplessly toward the car. “I have to get them inside.”

  He nodded. “After?”

  A smile softened the lines across her forehead. “That would be great, really. But it’s not a good time.”

  “Maggie,” he whispered. “Can I help?”

  She stared up at him, tears welling behind her eyes. Swallowing, she replied, “I wish you could.”

  ONCE MAGGIE HAD LEFT Rhett to check himself in, she all but jogged out to the SUV, waving to the kids frantically that they could get out. Gretchen unbuckled Briar, and the boys rounded to the back of the SUV and grabbed their overnight bags.

  “Mama, do we need to bring these boxes?” Dakota asked, his expression serious.

  She scruffed his hair and answered that yes, but she’d bring them in.

  “Why? It’s not like we’re staying here.” Gretchen pointed out as Briar grew drowsy on her hip.

  “I need to go through Travis’s paperwork. See what I missed. Maybe we have recourse.”

  “Why can’t we just sleep in our own house, Mama?” Ky asked innocently.

  “I told you all: we’re going to have a little vacation. I’m not quite sure what happened with the house, and—” She hesitated, feeling four sets of eyes on her, expectant.

  Dakota blew out a sigh. A little boy on the verge of becoming a man. “Where’s Dad?”

  “That’s the other thing,” Maggie confessed. “I need to get ahold of him. But you three have nothing to worry about, okay? I’ll fix this.” Her eyes bubbled with tears, and Gretchen caught the emotion, her face stretching into an ugly cry.

  Chapter 10 — Gretchen

  “Maybe we should squeeze into one room together,” Gretchen suggested, as they stood together in front of their first room at the end of the second-floor hall. “You know, save money while we can?”

  Their mother shook her head. At the bank en route to the Inn, Maggie had pulled all but one hundred dollars from their checking account and the same from their savings. Gretchen had asked if it would be enough, to which Maggie had replied that they were set. For weeks, if not a month or more.

  But to her mother’s credit, there were five of them and each room had only a double bed. No sofa or pull-out. Such were the options for a last-minute booking in the charming little bed-and-breakfast.

  “We can’t fit in one room. We’ll hardly fit in two. I’ll stay with the boys and sleep on the ground if I have to. You and Briar will share that room.” Maggie lifted her chin toward the door at the far end of the hall. “Get settled, then bring Briar over, and we’ll make supper plans.”

  NOT FIVE MINUTES LATER, Gretchen dragged a tantrum-throwing Briar over to the room next door. Inside, her mother was elbow deep into a crowded heap of unopened mail and coffee-stained pages. Gretchen let down the kicking and screaming child and took in the even-smaller room. “I thought you had a double bed?” she asked Ky who lay stretched across a most-decidedly twin-sized bed with his nose in a comic book and both shoes dangling precariously from his toes. “And aren’t we getting dinner? Why aren’t you all ready?”

  Briar, wailing and clinging passionately to her ragged blankie, tore across the room, tackling Maggie.

  “Briar, stop this fussing,” their mother hushed the little girl, tucking her under one arm as she continued to claw through papers.

  “Mom? What about dinner? We’re hungry. Clearly,” Gretchen muttered the last word, her eyes
narrowing on Briar whose sobs turned to sniffles as she snuggled against Maggie’s shoulder.

  “All right,” Maggie responded, pushing herself up off the ground with Briar still crooked in her arm. “You’re right. Let’s order a pizza.”

  Cheers took the place of the group’s irritation, and even Gretchen was pleased with the suggestion. She pulled up a search on her phone and tapped squarely on Pappy’s Pizzeria. “Delivery or take-out?” she hissed across to her mother.

  “We could go there?”

  “No,” wailed Ky. “I don’t want to get back in the car.”

  “Delivery,” Maggie agreed, bouncing Briar up and down.

  After a quick order, Gretchen clicked her phone off and strode to the mess of paperwork. “What are you looking for?” she asked her mother, whose attention was now focused on finding a cartoon for the boys.

  “Anything,” the bedraggled woman replied, settling on a nature show for Briar’s benefit.

  “Come on, Mama. We don’t want to watch this,” Dakota whined. “Besides, Briar always gets to pick at home.”

  The little girl wasn’t watching anyway. Instead, she had climbed down from her mother’s side and plopped herself right next to the box before tossing her treasured blanket and digging right into the stack.

  “Briar, no,” Maggie snapped.

  Gretchen took stock of the situation and spoke up. “Mom, here, let me take Briar out. We can tour the gift shop. You keep searching, and the boys can watch their show.”

  Maggie nodded gratefully.

  “And Mom,” Gretchen added, as she reached for Briar’s hand. “Let’s swap rooms. You three take the double bed. Bri and I can squeeze in here easily.” Her eyes swept the room, and a sense of pity fell over her. They couldn’t stay at the Inn for very long. They needed an out and fast.

  Gretchen walked Briar down the hardwood staircase and into the lobby, wondering why her mother wouldn’t allow them to stay with Miss Becky, when she remembered just how powerful her mother’s sense of pride could be.