“There’s more?”
“If I can offer a little piece of advice? From a guy who didn’t get a chance to make up with his grandfather or tell my parents how much I loved them before they died?”
Wincing, because I have an idea of what he’s going to say, I sigh. “Go on.”
“You can love a person and hate their choices. Family that sucks is still family.”
Closing my eyes briefly, I file this away for further reflection. When I open them again, I can’t stop my grin. Sam is totally rocking a soaking wet white shirt, like the best ever mashup of Colin Firth’s Darcy and Cavill’s Geralt. “You don’t suck, Samuel Bedd, but I love you anyway.”
He laughs, his face breaking open like the sun breaking through the clouds overhead. “Thank god. I was afraid I was going to catch pneumonia for nothing.”
“You know science has debunked that notion a hundred times over, right?” Hooking my arm through his, I lead him into the storage shed, where I’ve got a microfiber towel tucked into my bag.
“Yeah, but I still like the idea of you nursing me back to health like in some Jane Austen novel.”
While I hand him the towel, something on my phone catches my eye. It’s lit up, and my YouTube channel is up on the screen. When I get closer, the donkey’s head appears again, but it’s live, not playing from the video I took earlier.
I know this, not just because it matches the movement of the donkey across the way, but because the record button is red.
“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.”
