The door connecting the mudroom to the main house squeaked as I pressed it open. As I crossed the hallway, I noticed my dad sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper in hand and a cup of coffee resting on the wooden table. It was a new purchase by my mother to accommodate all the new members at our weekly family dinners every Sunday.
“Hi, Dad,” I called out as I slipped into the kitchen.
“Morning, sunshine. Just getting started?”
“Nah. I spent the last hour over on the Ramsey property, testing the soils. I should have some data to look over in a bit.”
“That’s good. It will give us an idea of what we’re working with.”
“I’m hoping it’s salvageable enough to plant corn for next season. If not, we could look at bringing in some cattle for the area for regenerative seeding.”
“You think that’s a better idea than using soy or wheat?”
“I do. We could always rent out the space to the Jacksons for their cattle. The expense would be fencing, but the turnaround on the soil is faster.”
I could tell my dad was skeptical of my suggestion. We kept a few livestock on our land for the same purpose, but not on the scale we would need for the Ramsey area.
“Well, let me know what the data shows, then we can discuss it further. The leasing of the land will help pay for the fencing. But we’d need to get started soon, and with harvest starting next week, I’m not sure we would have the time.”
Nodding, I turned around to head toward the fridge, using the distraction as a way to hide my disappointment. That was one thing about working for your father; he was set in his ways. He had decades of experience, but any time I suggested something that would incur an upfront cost, it was normally turned down.
I already knew that for my suggestion to work, I’d have to scour the financials and see where we could cut costs. Even though we’d charge for leasing the land, we’d need the upfront money to pay for the fence installation. It was something we could do in-house and just pay for the materials, but my dad was right. The harvest was going to take all hands on deck. With Autumn pregnant and Alex up to her neck at work, we were going to lose some of the family for labor.
The fall harvest of the corn we produced was a family tradition at this point. Though most was done by machine, we all helped. There was a factory in Knoxville that collected our supply by the truckload every year for commercial use. We only kept a small supply to distribute to the local grocers.
Just thinking about all the work I had in store in the upcoming months left my mind spinning. Why was I even considering accepting Owen’s proposal?
I knew why. I was desperate.
I wanted the relationship my mom had with my dad. My sisters had with their husbands. Someone there to support me, love me, care for me, and who never felt like my life choices were a burden.
“Good morning, darling.” Mom’s gentle voice wrapped around me like the softest blanket as she stepped into the kitchen. She pressed a kiss to the top of my head as I walked over to the stove with the carton of eggs and a packet of bacon in my hands.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Just getting up?”
I snorted in reply. She already knew I’d probably been up for hours. I couldn’t remember the last day I slept in. Christmas?
“Can I make you anything?” I asked.
“No, we’re headed over to the bed-and-breakfast. The chef is trying some new recipes, and we get to be the guinea pigs.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.”
I cracked the first egg into a mixing bowl a little harder than I meant to, and the shell fell into the yolk and membrane. Cleaning it up quickly, I mumbled to myself how it would have been nice to be invited. I suspected the rest of my family would be there except for Rory, who was in Knoxville with her husband.
Thinking of my sister, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and sent her a message asking about any rental properties she knew in the area. Not expecting a reply right away, I was surprised when my phone practically jumped in my hand with her response.
Smiling, I placed the cell back in my pocket and went to work, cracking a few more eggs before whisking them together. In the distance, I could make out the hushed tones of my parents as they discussed an article in the paper.
Footsteps echoed down the hall as the mudroom door hinges squeaked.
“There you are.” Owen’s deep voice shocked me as I peeled open the packet of bacon with a yank of the plastic, sending it flying in his direction. Thankfully, none of the strips came free from the package as it rested just in front of the toes of his sneakers.
“Oh my God. I am so sorry,” I apologized as I stumbled over to him and picked up the packet.
“Didn’t mean to surprise you. I couldn’t find you this morning, so I figured I’d try here. Though, I did start with the barn.” A strangled gasp sounded from the dining table, and Owen twisted his head with his signature cocky smile in place. “Oh. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Easterly. I didn’t see you there. I apologize for not greeting you first.” He walked over, hand outstretched, and both of my parents must have been in a deeper level of shock than I was as they returned his greeting. “How are you this morning?”
Behind my scrunched face, I felt disgusted. And as they fed into his suave introduction, I wanted to vomit into the trashcan. Owen always had that effect on people. He could “charm a snake,” my mom used to say. Seems that sentiment hadn’t changed much at all.
The trio chatted for a short time while I went back to placing the bacon in the frying pan, ignoring the sizzles as they popped on my skin. I was too busy trying to listen to their conversation to care.
From what I could hear, Owen was busy apologizing to my parents for his outburst yesterday at the B&B, even though they weren’t there. Smartly, my mother suggested to him that he speak with his mother, who was now one of her close friends. I could tell by the change in his tone that he wasn’t quite over her betrayal. His reaction to finding out we now owned the land would probably send him over the edge.
Busy flipping the bacon strips, thinking he was still on the other side of the kitchen, I nearly jumped a foot when I felt Owen’s hip nudge mine.
“Oh my gosh!” I cried out as I placed a hand over my racing heart.
“Sorry.”
A few deep breaths helped me get my wits about me as I turned to face Owen. “You know, my parents now probably think you stayed the night last night.”
He smiled casually as he leaned his body against the counter, crossing his feet in front of him. “I did spend the night last night.”
A slap sounded as my spatula collided with his arm. “Not like that, you didn’t.”
He simply shrugged as if he didn’t care, rubbing the spot on his forearm where I smacked him. My gaze landed on the numbers and long-stretched line there, where the woman from the night before had drawn on him. His eyes followed mine, then he sighed.
