Tonight, however, we’re celebrating. No one seems surprised that Samuel was able to talk me into returning. Perhaps because they watched him do it. No one seems to give two hoots whether I’m really Diane or Didi, McCarthy or Mayer. When asked going forward, I think I’ll just say she’s all me. I can’t change the fact that I was raised with the advantages of the top one percent, but I can and I do choose to live more lightly on this earth. For instance, I can avoid buying a whole new wardrobe by keeping the one I already have, even if my clothes were ridiculously expensive to begin with.

In addition to our newly committed romance, Sam and I have a lot of other news to share. Once we’re all seated at the table, I clink a spoon to my glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Does that mean I get to kiss my woman?” Ethan yells.

Colleen throws a napkin at him before he and Lia can lock lips. “This isn’t a wedding, dumbass.”

Her tone is a little sharp, but I can hardly blame her. It might be tough to watch every brother within spitting distance find love one after the other. “Sorry about that,” I say. “I just wanted to share our news while we’re all here.”

“Are you pregnant?” Gran asks, her hands clasped under her chin.

My face heats so fast I have to down a gulp of ice water. I guess that means Gran knows what we’ve been up to. “No, ma’am. I think we’ll wait on that.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Ethel says, pointing a finger at each of her grandkids in turn. “I’m not getting any younger over here.”

“Hear, hear!” Molly’s dad calls out from the other end of the table. “I vote for grandkids, not just granddogs.”

“Anyway,” Sam says over the chorus of groans. “Our news has to do with farming.”

“That’s no fun,” Ethan says. “That’s all we ever talk about.”

“I think it’s pretty darn fun,” I say. “I didn’t get to grow up on my grandparents’ farm, but I loved the time I did spend there. And thanks to Samuel, their heirloom orchard is not only going to remain intact, it’s back in the family.”

Everyone raises their glasses in congratulation, and then I tell the story of how Samuel identified the Red-headed Woodpecker and rallied the Cornell professors behind saving the orchard.

“To be fair, they rallied me. Or called me on the phone and told me exactly what was going to happen.”

He goes on to explain that professors in both the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and School of Agriculture have grants at the ready, which they’re salivating to employ at Kaaterskill Orchards.

“Where did that name come from?” Molly asks.

“Kaaterskill is the Dutch word for Big Cat Creek, so the Catskill mountains are named for both the mountain lions and creeks that run through the range. My grandmother was Dutch, so she came up with the name.

“This all means,” I continue, “that the new owner of the orchard will receive a regular infusion of cash to help manage and care for the trees. All we have to do is give the Cornell teams access whenever they want it.”

“You’re saying we,” Lia notes. “Does that mean you?”

My smile is wide. “It does. It’s not official yet, but it turns out that my brother picked up the property when the zoning changed and the price dropped. He offered it to me last night.”

“As long as she starts talking to her family again,” Sam adds, with a kiss on the cheek.

“Which I’m trying to see as a good thing.”

“It is a good thing, sweetheart,” Ethel says. “Family is family.”

“Will you live there?” Colleen asks. “What about Sam’s job?”

“Actually, I think we’re going to live at Sam’s new apartment in Climax. It’ll be more convenient for both of us. I’ll move my nonprofit into the orchard’s farmhouse. It’ll provide housing for the grad students studying the woodpeckers and apples too.”

“This all sounds great,” Alex says.

“We’re pretty happy,” I say, feeling the grin that’s been on my face for the past two days appear yet again.

When I raise a brow at Sam, he nods solemnly. “I have more to share. Good news and bad news. Well, more of a clarification than bad news, I guess.”

“I usually say good news first, but now I’m intrigued,” Ethan says. “What have you got to clarify?”

Sam takes in a breath, and I take his hand and squeeze in support. “I know you all watched me say it on Diane’s channel, but I owe the farm about fifty grand. Plus interest.”

Lia tips her head to the side. “So that loan marked personal was to you?”

Sam nods, lips pressed together. “Grandad told me the money he gave me to pay for my rent and other expenses not covered by my scholarships at school was a gift. But from what Lia told me, and the dates on a couple of the refis, he just further mortgaged the farm to get it. So, I’m paying it back.” He slides a check across the table to Ethan. “This is the first installment.”

Ethan holds up a hand. “No matter where he got it, that money was a gift. You don’t have to pay it back.”

“I do,” Sam says, his tone adamant but not angry. “I would’ve taken out a student loan, so I’m just paying the farm back instead of the government.”

Ethan opens his mouth to argue, but Sam stops him. “I want to do this Ethan. It’s important to me.”

Hands up, Ethan nods, and Lia takes the check.

“Smart woman,” Sam says with a grin. Maybe I only imagine it because I know how much this secret debt has weighed on him, but I swear he sits up taller as he reaches for his fork and stuffs a bite of meatloaf in his mouth.

We all eat in silence for a few moments until Alex says, “Hey, wasn’t there also good news? Or was that the good news? I’m confused.”

“Right. I almost forgot.” Sam wipes his mouth with his napkin, and then pulls a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket. “I have a proposal for a way to create a buffer field between the soy crop and Gran’s expanded vegetable garden.”

He slides the paper to Ethan too, but this time Ethan takes it with interest and begins to read.

“Are you going to share with the rest of the class?” Colleen asks.

“Uh, I’m not sure what this means exactly,” Ethan says. “So maybe Sam should.”

“After talking to the ag school guy who has the grant to study heirloom apples, I did a little calling around to some of my old professors. One of them connected me with a woman studying pesticides. She’d be interested in a ten-year agreement where she pays you to let her experiment on a few acres with pesticides and herbicides that are nonpoisonous.”

“But what if they don’t work? I’ll be out a year’s crop,” Ethan says.

“That’s the beauty of it. Part of her grant covers loss. So she’ll reimburse you for any crop damage or reductions.”

“Wow,” Lia says. “That’d be essentially guaranteed income.”

After a long moment where Ethan turns to her and they engage in some sort of silent communication, Ethan asks, “Can we call a farm meeting real quick?”

“I propose we do,” Alex says.

“I second,” Colleen says.

“What about Jackson?” Sam asks.