“You didn’t, sweetie,” Dad said from the end of the aisle where he stood and began gathering our light jackets. “That was a crazy bid that I don’t think anyone here prepared for. It’s obvious the man wanted the property. We can only hope that he’s not as slimy as those men that keep trespassing.”

As one, we filed out of the row and made our way down the aisle and out of the main theater into the lobby. Conversation flowed around us. Everyone wondered who the shadowed man was and where he came from. He was the new town mystery and rumors were going to swirl. On the bright side, that took the heat off my reasoning for returning home. I didn’t want to feel ashamed of my return.

“I’ll let you girls enjoy your morning. I’m going to head back to the house.”

“Aspen, are you staying or going?” At twenty, she wasn’t of legal age to drink yet, but I didn’t want to keep her from being with us.

“I’ll stay and give everyone a ride home.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dad said as he tugged me into his arms – my favorite place to be. “I’m sorry we lost that one. At least we know we tried. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be able to work something out with the new owner.”

In my head I was certain it was going to be torn down by the time we arrived back at the ranch, even though I knew my mind exaggerated that scenario. It still left me bereft.

“I know, Daddy. Thank you all for supporting me, even if it didn’t turn out in our favor.”

Dad said his goodbyes and the rest of us headed across the street to The Purple Goat. To this day, I was still unsure how the bar came about its name. Mom theorized it was something Harold lost a bet on.

It seemed everyone we knew liked to make a wager every now and then.

“Morning, ladies,” Harold called out from behind the bar where he was wiping down the dark oak finish. It had lost its glossy luster years ago.

My favorite part about The Purple Goat was that it had some of the best food in town. Not just the typical bar food, but Harold had a retired, award-winning chef working in the kitchen. There was no menu before 9 p.m. If you wanted food, you got what the chef was making that day. We had never been disappointed.

“Harold, dear.” Mom put on her most pleasant voice as she worked on the older man. “It’s been a long and arduous morning for us. Do you think we can start with some mimosas? I have a feeling we’re going to be spending most of the day in your lovely establishment.”

The man chuckled as he tossed his rag over his shoulder with a slap. “I don’t know half of the words you said, but I don’t see why not. It’s almost eleven and those cataracts have been messing with my eyes lately.” Harold smiled at his lie as he watched us find a booth close to the bar.

“You’re the best, my friend.”

Not five minutes later, Harold delivered a wooden board with champagne flutes resting in their cut-out spots. He followed up with three more so each of us had four mimosas to start with. I’m not sure how he knew the severity of need for those acidic beverages, but they were welcomed with open arms.

I downed the first one before my mother could take off her jacket that my father had returned to her. I didn’t even care that I still wore mine.

“Autumn,” she chastised as my sisters giggled, quickly gulping their first glasses as well. Aspen stared on longingly.

“Mr. Shaw, I’ll take a Diet Coke when you get a chance,” Aspen told him.

“Sure. You all need some food to go with those drinks?”

“Absolutely,” I replied as I lifted the stem of my second glass, prepared to send it down the depths of my throat like the previous one. Harold scurried away.

“Slow it down, missy. You don’t want to spend tonight and tomorrow making friends with the toilet, do you?” Alex asked as she shrugged off her jacket and pulled her phone from her bag.

“No, but it gives me something else to think about.”

Smartly, Harold returned with Aspen’s drink and set another flight of mimosas in front of me.

When I cocked my brow at him, he shrugged and replied, “Just heard what happened across the street. Sorry to hear you were outbid. Would have loved to see ya do something with that home. I know your daddy’s happy to have you back, though.”

“How’d you hear already?” my mother asked, aghast at the notion.

“My wife told me. She was at the store and Betsy heard it from Melissa, who heard it from Bob, who was working the registration table.”

“Ugh, the town gossip train,” I grumbled as I slammed my head against the table. It was going to leave a nasty mark, but I didn’t care. Small town chatter was the worst and it spread faster than wildfire in the heat of summer.

Rory’s delicate hand rubbed between my shoulder blades. Usually, the motion would calm me instantly, but not today. I was too wired and angry and disappointed. “I’m sorry, Autumn,” she whispered in my ear, close enough that no one else would hear.

I flipped my head on the table and faced her, doing my best to give her a convincing grin, but I could tell she wasn’t fooled.

A hand slapped down in front of my face and I jumped up to a straight sitting position, nearly knocking heads with Rory in the process.

“Look. We know you’re upset about this. We wanted it for you just as much as you did for yourself. But it’s over and done with. Best case, the winner does nothing with it and the land and house stay untouched. Worst case, he tears it down and builds his dream house on the land. Either way, our family made the mistake a long time ago and we’ve done our best to right that wrong. We lost, and that’s okay. Maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe that land and the house were meant to be for someone else.”

I heard what she was saying, but it didn’t sit right with me. That house was mine. It had always been mine. It was in my dreams and I swear every time I passed the plot, I felt like the sun shone a little brighter. If the house could actually smile, I felt like it would.

“She’s right, Autumn. As brash as Alexandra can be sometimes, she’s right about the land. We gave it our best shot. Now we can spend this day moping about. Or we can have a few drinks and have a proper girl’s day. You have years of New York City living to catch us up on.”

Mom always had the best way to put a spin on things. Even when it was the most ghastly of things, she knew how to put it in a better light.

Taking a sip from the second mimosa, I asked them if I ever told them about the time I accidentally mistook the doorman for a homeless person.

By the time we had filed into Aurora’s sedan, four out of the five of us were feeling a delightful buzz. Thank goodness Harold and the chef kept food on our table. They started us off with a type of egg souffle, then at lunch we each had a trio of sandwiches. A turkey club, a Cuban, and a Reuben. They were the best I’d ever had and I’d dined at some of the most acclaimed sandwich shops in New York. By lunch, we had transitioned from the mimosas to mojitos. Mom was generous enough to pick up the tab and I was glad I didn’t get to see the bill. I lost count of the drinks after my third mimosa flight.

“Can y’all cover my eyes when we pass the house? I don’t want to see the betrayal.”

“Aw, you said y’all like a true southern girl,” Rory said from my left, while to my right Alex hiccupped, then added, “The house didn’t betray you, silly.”

“Mom, Alex called Autumn silly. That’s not nice when she’s in distress,” Rory whined with a nasally note that was headache inducing.

“It’s depressed, not distressed. Your sister isn’t in crisis, she’s just upset. And stop tattling on your sister. I have two ears, you know,” Mom replied in her well-known authoritative tone that had my sisters silencing themselves quickly while I was left in amazement. I could barely speak without slurring after the amount of alcohol we drank at The Purple Goat while Mom sounded as fresh as a daisy.

With the backseat quiet, Aspen pulled the car out of the spot on the street Rory snagged that morning and turned us toward home. Beside me, Rory and Alex chattered quietly about their plans for the week. The school year would start in full swing mid-week so we would see Rory less and less, especially since this was the first year she would have her own class. She’d been volunteering at the school for as long as I could remember. Alex basically ran the bar she worked at while finishing some master’s degree courses online, so with the night creeping in earlier and earlier, the bar tended to fill up with patrons once dusk broke.

Gazing out the window, the fields and shaded trees were nothing more than a blur around me. I felt disconnected from it all. It looked like I was moving, but it seemed like I was stuck in place because everything else was shifting. Everyone else was on some sort of road they’d designed for their life and mine was nothing more than a patchy dirt path that hadn’t been traveled on in centuries.

Maybe that’s why I connected so much to the house on the hill. It had weathered a storm and needed that love and care. It needed its purpose. I thought I knew what my purpose was. What I was destined to do. I’d been so sure, so adamant, but that only got me red-faced back at my parents’ place. I was blacklisted with the elite planners in New York, all because my ex didn’t want me around him to remind anyone of his screw-up. I could only imagine what he was off telling our colleagues or the clients I’d once had. They probably thought the same of me as the rumor Mr. Granger had disclosed. That I’d been the homewrecker. I’d been the one to cheat. I’d been the one to use company dollars on an extravagant trip for my lover. Max had done all those things, which was why the lies came so easily off his tongue when he spoke to others. It was easy to tell the story as if I’d been the bad guy because he’d known all the details.

I still missed that apartment.

But did I miss that life?

I thought I did. It felt like I was missing something by being away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I’d never believed I was cut out for small town living. Mom used to tell me that the moment I could walk I wanted to explore my surroundings. She’s caught me more than once asking our older brother to drive me to downtown Ashfield. He was sixteen and had a car, so it made sense to my three-year-old mind.

“Cover her eyes,” Aspen whispered harshly from the front seat as we approached what I liked to call the Easterly curve. It was an almost ninety-degree turn in the main road and that was right where the Easterly family property and Sunny Brook Farms began.

Rory reached across and I swatted her hands away. “I’m fine,” I said sullenly. I wasn’t, but I lied all the same.

The house was in full view as we passed the bend in the road and I tried my damnedest not to gaze up at the farmhouse, but as if it summoned me, I glued my eyes to the statuesque property. The gasp escaped before I could cover my mouth with my shaking fingers. The auction had only ended a few hours prior, but there were already a handful of construction trucks in the yard.