“Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER 23SAM
Gran: Dear Sam,
Gran: I don’t know if you know this, but your beautiful declaration of love for Diane was cast out on the internet.
Gran: (I hope she doesn’t want us to call her Didi because that name doesn’t seem to fit her.)
Gran: When I called Molly to ask if she saw it, she told me that anyone who subscribes to Seeds of Change may have received an alert the way I did, so a few others may have seen it too.
Gran: I hope you’ll both join us for Sunday dinner so we can celebrate the fact that you both got your heads out of your behinds and admitted that you love each other.
Gran: Love,
Gran: Your grandmother,
Gran: Ethel
Gran: P.S. I hope you know that I know that you can’t get pneumonia from standing out in the rain. That’s just silly.
My grandmother isn’t the only one to text me after Diane accidentally broadcast our conversation live on her channel. Over the next few hours, each of my siblings checks in, except for my sister, which is kind of weird. Even Jackson messages. It’s so full of acronyms I have no idea what it says, but it’s something.
Come to think of it, I’ve been getting weird twin vibes the whole afternoon, but when Colleen finally gets back to me, she apologizes and says that her phone died during the annual Fork Lick teacher trip to the city.
For better or for worse, all of Diane’s subscribers now know her real identity as well as the fact that we’re in love, and in true internet fashion, they all seem to have an opinion about it. Once we get to my new apartment, I manage to tear Diane’s phone out of her hand and distract her with kisses that promise more.
After I make sure said phone is powered off, that is.
CHAPTER 24DIANE
It is so much more fun to have sex with Sam when we don’t have to worry about making noise. We do have to make sure Gomer’s occupied, and I’m a little worried that he’s going to gain weight with the number of treats he’s getting, but now that Sam and I can touch each other as much as we want to, whenever we want to, I can’t seem to stop.
We both take Friday off, which includes powering down all devices, and spend the day in bed, only emerging to throw together snacks from Sam’s pantry and refrigerator and to take Gomer out. In fact, when we walk through the adorable town of Climax hand in hand, it feels like a dream come true.
Only two things dampen my mood as Friday rolls into Saturday, and both of them have to do with Sam’s words to me yesterday. Even though I know he’s right, just the thought of contacting my parents and trying to have a relationship with them without getting dragged into their ridiculous lifestyle makes me anxious and exhausted. It’s not like they were abusive or anything, but our values are so different it’s hard to believe we share the same DNA.
The idea of buying Kaaterskill Orchards is nagging at me too. On the one hand, I may be able to afford it, assuming that the ornithological people are able to stop the development of the property. But I can’t quite get to the place where I feel that I should. It still feels too selfish.
When we do turn our phones back on because Sam is worried about Colleen’s whereabouts, I do a good job of ignoring the comments on social media. But when I see three voicemails from the realtor representing the orchard property, I can’t press play fast enough.
Maybe I do want that property after all.
“Hello Ms. McCarthy, I just wanted to let you know that there’s been a change in status to the property on Lot ZXT485. The original buyer dropped out, so if you are still interested in tendering an offer, please contact me as soon as possible.”
Suppressing a squeal, I press play for the next message.
“Hi Ms. McCarthy—or should I say Ms. Mayer? I’m not sure. Anyway, I’m calling to let you know that there’s been a change in the zoning for Lot ZXT485. Not only is it no longer approved for high-density development, it appears that the orchard may have to remain intact and be maintained due to some ridiculous Bureau of Wildlife claim. Anyway, if you’re still interested, please call me.”
All I want is to call her and scream, “Yes, I want it!” but I make myself press play for her final message.
“Me again, Ms. McCarthy Mayer. I just wanted to let you know that we have a cash buyer, and the seller has approved the sale, so Lot ZXT485 is no longer available. Have a nice day.”
Feeling like I just took the shortest and steepest roller coaster ride ever, adrenaline drains from my body as I sink onto the couch, barely noticing when Gomer noses under my hand. Petting him calms my heart rate enough that I notice there’s another voicemail message, this one from an unfamiliar Manhattan area code.
When I press play, the recorded voice is a familiar one. “Didi, it’s Seth. Heard you’ve been tearing it up on social media. Gimme a call, okay?” He then rattles off a number and ends the call.
My eldest brother never was one for chatting, but this is terse even for him. Figuring that if I don’t call him, some PR firm my parents hire to mitigate whatever blowback they might get from yesterday’s viral video will be next, I punch in the number.
May as well get this reconnection thing over with.
Expecting to have to go through an executive assistant to get to my CFO brother or, at the very least, have my call screened, I’m surprised when Seth answers on the first ring. “Hey, squirt, how the hell are you?”
My heart squeezes at the nickname. There are six years between us, and I idolized my big brother growing up. Hearing his voice makes me realize that Sam may be right. Maybe cutting myself off from my family has its downsides.
“I’m pretty good, considering.”
“I’ve missed you, you know.” There’s real fondness in his tone, even as he cuts to the chase. “It was good to see your squishy face, even if it was on video. Your channel’s pretty cool too. Cheryl and I went down a bit of a rabbit hole watching it yesterday.”
“How is Cheryl?” Remembering that I actually like his wife, I listen as he fills me in on his family’s news—milestones their three kids have hit, Cheryl’s job at Planned Parenthood, their new kitten.
“And Mom and Dad? They doing okay?”
“They’re pretty much the same. Dad’s stepping back a bit so they can travel.” He clears his throat, and I hear what sounds like a door closing. “Which means I’ve been able to make some changes.”
“Changes?”
My brother worked his way up the investment firm my father established, starting in whatever the financial version of a mailroom is. “Oh, just diversifying the portfolio. In particular, moving money away from dinosaurs like Mayer-SynAgro and rolling into green energy. Things like that.”
Before I can ask why, he adds, “Oh, and I bought Nana and Pop’s orchard yesterday. Got lucky. Some bird nuts swooped in with a sighting of some rare woodpecker, so I got it for a song. Ha-ha, no pun intended.”
Heart in my throat, I whisper, “What are you going to do with it?”
“I dunno. You want it?”
CHAPTER 25DIANE
We emerge from our sex fest to help out at berry picking, followed by the cooking of Sunday dinner. As much as I’m grateful to have reconnected with my brother, which I’m determined to keep up, I still feel like I belong with the Bedds, even though—or perhaps because—I’ve witnessed some of their struggles. From financial challenges to relationships that needed mending, I’ve watched Sam and his siblings and grandmother work through it all.
I’m sure we’ll have more to come, and I’m here for it.
