“Spend the next month here. Really take it all in. The town, the farm, the life. Remember how it felt to grow up here before you knew there was anything more outside of the county lines. And if, after a month, you still have the itch to leave Ashfield, then we’ll continue to support you as you search for a job. But, if you have the slightest longing to stay, I’ll let you follow through on the wedding venue. But you have to make an effort, Autumn. That’s a lot of time and money for all of us. You have to promise to at least give the town a try again.”
“I feel like you’re pressuring me to stay if I want to do the venue.”
“I’d never pressure you to do anything. We’ll always support you, but if we get it started and then you up and leave, who would run it? We could hire someone, sure, but the love behind it would be gone. Do you see what I’m saying?”
I did. It all made sense. We were both taking a gamble on this venture. And it wasn’t that I hated being in this small town. I remembered how the townspeople always rallied around each other. Like when Alex had her tonsils removed, the town brought ice cream to the house for weeks. I had nothing against it and it had been a great place to grow up. I just had aspirations that didn’t exist here.
“I do, Daddy.”
“Do it. Autumn,” Aspen commanded, as she stepped back into the room wearing gray sweatpants and a pink t-shirt. “You have nothing to lose. Stay here for a month, which is inevitable if you think about it, and then decide what you want to do.”
I thought about what they were both saying. A month wouldn’t kill me. And there were things I could do to occupy my time. I had the information regarding the dream house to delve deeper into as well.
“Fine. You’re right. You’re both right. Okay, Daddy. I agree. One month, and pretty much I’ll make my decision.” Holding out my hand, I expected him to shake it like we were in a board meeting, but he brushed it aside, stood to his full height, then leaned down to hug me.
“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for that hunk of wood,” he whispered in my ear.
“What makes you so sure I’m staying?” I joked.
Pulling back, he held my shoulders in both of his hands as he gazed down lovingly. I wish I could bottle up that feeling. It would sell like hotcakes.
“Not sure. Just hopeful.”
A commotion sounded from the side door and I stood from the table at the same time my father rushed forward toward my mother.
“Autumn! Autumn!” the voice called out as it grew louder and louder. Suddenly, an out of breath Alex stood at the doorway of the kitchen. One hand gripped a stack of what looked like newspapers, while the other grasped the doorjamb as Alex bent over, her back lurching as she gasped for air.
“Is everything okay?” I asked as I rushed to her side. “Why are you out of breath? Didn’t you drive?”
She lived in an apartment in town above the bar she worked at. Her only way to the farm was in her truck.
“Of course, I drove. I just. . .the excitement. . .you know how I get.”
“What’s going on, Alexandra?” Mother’s voice seemed to calm Alex and she straightened, then immediately headed for the large kitchen island.
We all followed suit.
My nerves were getting the better of me as I watched Alex line up the papers, then rearrange them again. The marble was cold beneath my palms, but it did little to settle me.
“Alex, get on with it,” Aspen said impatiently from her perch on a barstool.
“I wish Rory was here for this. I’m not sure she got my text,” Alex murmured, just as someone called out from the front of the house. “I’m here!”
“Aurora! Get in here. Your sister has something important to tell us.” Mother’s voice carried throughout the large house without the use of an intercom. She was her own personal megaphone.
“Sorry. What’s going on?” Rory asked as she settled on another barstool beside Aspen, placing her large bag at her feet with a plop.
“Ok,” Alex said, as she rearranged two more papers and then stepped back. “Do you see it?” she asked excitedly.
I stepped into her vacated spot, but I saw nothing in the hundreds of articles. “What am I looking for, exactly?”
“Here. Let me help. Rory, do you have a pen?” In a split second, a pen appeared from Rory’s hand as if she called it from thin air and she handed it over to Alex, who circled one of the articles in the first paper.
I moved and leaned over the counter, mouthing the words as I read. Tax lien. State to sell. Fifty acres and property. 130 Easterly Lane.
“OH MY GOSH!” I shouted as I skimmed over each of the Knoxville papers where the article resided. The last three weeks posted the same article.
“Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh,” I repeated as I grabbed the last paper and held it to my chest and turned toward Alex.
“And I checked. It still has a tax lien.”
“Will someone please tell us what’s going on?” Father demanded.
I was too stunned to speak. Luckily, Alex had calmed down enough to explain that the house I’d dreamed of, and used to belong to our family, was now owned by the state because of unpaid taxes for the last few years.
“What does that mean?” Aspen asked, and the rest of us mumbled the same assessment.
“It means that it’s going to be sold at auction.” Alex turned to face me directly and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Autumn, it’s going up at auction on Monday.”
“I. . .I. . .” The words lodged themselves in my throat and I had to pause for a moment to collect myself or I was going to become a sobbing mess on the floor. “I can’t afford it, you guys. I just lost my job. I can’t cash in my savings for something like this. It was always a pipe dream. Something I could bring back to our family. I never thought it would actually happen. I gave up on that fantasy.”
“If you had access to the money, what would your plans be for the house?” my mother asked, as if she hadn’t a clue. I was most certain that she knew exactly what I wanted to do with the property.
“I’d fix it up to how it would have been in its glory days. Restore all the hand-crafted woodwork. Things like that. And I wanted to submit it to the National Register of Historic Places so that it would be protected.
“And I wanted to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. It was always something I thought would be fun.”
“Then we’ll get you the money. That’s our heritage, after all,” my mother said like I was asking for a copy of a recipe.
