By the time I got back to the house, dinner was over and everyone was in the kitchen cleaning up. Instead of helping, I booked it for the powder room, where I’ve been sitting for the past ten minutes.

I should probably just move on. There are plenty of other farmers and gardeners out there. But I feel like I’ve just scratched the surface here in Fork Lick. For a tiny hamlet—its official designation—it’s packed full of people with good stories. Plus, I’ve gotten attached to this family.

But maybe that’s the thing. I should leave before I get too attached. If they find out about my family, they’ll probably hate me.

Footsteps sound in the hallway, so I run water in the sink so whoever is out there doesn’t think I’m the kind of person who doesn’t wash their hands after fake going to the bathroom. After I fake dry, however, I freeze, my hand halfway to the doorknob.

“Gran, she’s basically a stranger,” Sam says from right outside the door.

I should just step out so they’ll stop talking about me, but I can’t move.

“I think I’m a pretty good judge of character,” Ethel snaps back.

“There are all kinds of predatory hucksters out there who specialize in stealing from the elderly.”

He thinks I’m going to steal from Ethel? WTF!

“Are you saying I’m elderly, Samuel Daniel Bedd?”

“Well—”

“Because I bet I can beat you in Wordle. I do it every morning.”

“I am sure you could. But you are recently widowed, which anyone can find out with a simple Google search.”

If Ethel says anything in response, I can’t hear it.

“Just promise me you won’t give her any important information, okay, Gran? Please? I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Fine,” she says on a huff. “But like I told you, she only…”

They must have started walking down the hall, because Ethel's voice fades to the point that I can’t hear the end of the sentence. Instead of finally leaving the bathroom, I slump down onto the toilet.

I shouldn’t feel so disappointed. After all, I know who Sam is: a soulless shark in a suit. Every time I start to think I misjudged him, he bares his teeth.

I promised Ethel I’d stick around for a week, and I’ll do that. I can avoid Sam. It’s not like he lives here, and I’m staying elsewhere too. Which reminds me—I still need the check-in info for my rental. But when I open the app and look for my reservation, it’s not there. Searching my email, I find the original confirmation. Scrolling through it, I find a number for the host, but when I call it, the number’s been disconnected.

“What the heck?”

“Are you okay in there, dear?”

“Gah!?” Startled at the sound of Ethel’s voice, I leap to my feet, my phone flying out of my hands and into the sink. “Dang it.”

“Diane?”

“I’m fine,” I call through the door.

Shoving my phone in my back pocket, I wash my hands again, even though I never did actually use the toilet. Unfortunately, when I emerge from the powder room, Ethel’s waiting with a concerned look on her face.

“I’m really fine, I promise.” I wave towards the bathroom behind me. “Just, you know, got distracted on my phone.”

She pats my arm. “Come into the parlor with me, honey.”

“I really should get going,” I begin, but then I remember that I no longer have a place to go to, so I follow her through a door across the hall. She turns on a lamp, which makes the little room even cozier, before settling onto the couch and patting the cushion next to her. Like the cat we had growing up that was never quite comfortable with humans, but still wanted to be close by, I perch on the edge of the cushion the farthest away from her.

Ethel picks up a bag, puts on her readers, and begins to knit. I’m curious about Samuel’s childhood but asking seems like a bad idea. Especially since I’ve decided to avoid him. Noticing the framed photos that cover one wall, I hop up to get a closer look.

“Those go back over a hundred years,” Ethel says. “My husband’s family has lived on this land for a long time.”

“It’s so nice that it’s been passed down from generation to generation.” Pain pricks at my heart, the way it does every time I think about my family’s orchard, which I’m pretty sure my mother sold from her phone on the way home from my grandmother’s funeral. “It doesn’t always work out that way.”

She sniffs, but when I look over, her focus is on the wool and needles in her hands, so I can’t quite read her expression. “That hasn’t exactly been the case. About fifteen years ago now, Eugene was on the road to retirement. Our son and daughter-in-law were planning to take over. But when they were taken from us, Eugene had to work the farm all by himself until the boys got old enough to help, and we had five extra mouths to feed.”

“That must’ve been hard,” I say softly.

Ethel’s hands idle, her gaze fixed on a photo next to me.

“That picture right next to you? That’s Jim and Sandy with all five of their children a couple years before the accident. They were such good parents.”

I find Samuel right away, even though he can’t be more than ten years old. He and Colleen are right next to each other, like they’re joined at the hip.

“Those poor babies,” Ethel says, her voice thick with emotion. “Their parents passed away when they were only half-grown. Their grandfather and I did our best to finish the job, but I don’t think we quite measured up.”

“You’ve had a lot of loss.”

She nods once, but her expression remains stoic. “We have. I still can’t believe I’m a widow, and I miss my son and his wife every day, but I loved raising my grandkids. And I’m so proud of each and every one of them. Still, it’s been nice to have a full house again. In fact, you know you’re welcome to stay here again, as long as you need to. We have room. Jane and Hetty are sharing the attic.”

As she says this, something clicks. Maybe that’s what Sam was concerned about. Maybe he thinks I lied to his grandmother about needing a place to stay. The last thing I want is to take advantage of her generosity. I’m not going to confess everything about my situation, but I need to make sure she knows I’m not destitute or anything.

Sitting next to her, I say, “Ethel, when I said I was living out of my car, did you think I was homeless? Because I’m not.”

Ethel pats my hand. “There’s no shame in homelessness, dear. Though I think they call it unhoused these days. Or is it home free? No, that sounds like something else. I’m learning so much on the YouTube and the TikTok, but there’s always more to keep up with.”

Since she didn’t really answer my question, I press further. “I just want to be clear. I can afford to rent an apartment. It just seemed wasteful to keep one up when I’m on the road all the time.”

She tips her head to the side and studies me for a moment. “That may be true, but you do seem to need a home. And I’ve got one to share.”

After getting up and looking out in the hall, she closes the door and returns to the sofa. “I’ll tell you a secret. I was quite lonely this winter. Colleen was kind enough to move in with me after my husband died, but she has her own life to lead, as she should. Meanwhile, Ethan and Alex weren’t speaking to each other, and Sam and Jackson were gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever have all my kids home again, but I like having a full house. Besides”—the sly smile that matches Colleen’s reappears—“I think we have a lot to learn from each other, you and I.”

CHAPTER 11SAM

Gran is punishing me.

I didn’t say yes to a place to stay the first time she offered, so she gave my room away. To Diane of all people. Who, despite what my sister says, still hates me. And my grandmother is definitely on Team Diane, because she won’t give me her phone number so I can try to apologize again.

Now, two nights later, I’m kicking myself, but I can’t figure any way out of the mess I’ve created. Rentals in Greene County that allow pets are harder to come by than I expected, at least on my budget. If I were still working at Congento, I could buy a place. But I’d also be living in Connecticut and making the world a worse place.