Page 52 of The Deadbeat Next Door

He was quiet for so long, I was certain he was going to ignore my request. “We didn’t have much money when I was a kid,” he said at last. “We lived in this tiny house, in the middle of the woods, that my dad had grown up in. Three bedrooms and one bathroom for a family of eight people was a bit crowded. So, we spent a good deal of time outside, exploring the woods and learning about nature. My dad loved the outdoors and he’d give us these long lectures on the life cycle of the pine tree or why having black snakes around your house was a good thing or how forest fires made forests healthier or the mating habits of squirrels. Us kids always pretended to be bored and rolled our eyes, but I never got tired of hearing those lectures. I think that’s part of the reason I fell in love with growing grapes and making wine. How the natural world works and the way it can provide the sweetest things for us fascinates me.”

I waited, but it seemed he wasn’t going to say anything else. “And?”

He jolted like he’d forgotten I was there. “And what?”

“That’s not a story. That’s a little bit of information about you and your dad. I asked for a story.”

He scowled. “You’re a very demanding woman, Carrie Harrison.”

“I know what I want,” I said. “And I want a story.”

He smiled. “Alright. As we all got older, I was the only one who continued to spend time in the forest. My little sister May would try to tag along, but I was a jerk of an older brother and usually sent her home. Dad would include her if he went with me, but he wasn’t around much at that point. Right before we moved out of that tiny house, we all got together one last time and went for a walk through the woods with my dad. We walked and laughed and Dad lectured us like it was his last chance to teach us all something. It’s one of my best memories of him.”

“Were the two of you close?”

“Yeah, in our own way, I guess. We fought a lot, because I wanted different things than he did. Our love of the outdoors, of being outside, was one of the only things we had in common.”

“It’s good that you have some nice memories of him at least,” I said.

“How about you? What’s your relationship like with your parents?”

Most of the people in Catalpa Creek had known my parents or me or all of us for decades, so I’d never really been asked about my relationship with my parents before. I had to consider for a few moments. “My parents were a lot older when they had me and they weren’t expecting me. They loved me, but they didn’t have a ton of patience for me. I was a difficult child.”

“You?” he asked, eyebrows high.

“I was supremely sensitive and prone to tantrums. Looking back on it, I think I just wanted them to pay more attention to me, to notice me, to get down on the floor and play with me. My sister adored me, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted my parents, you know?” I’d revealed more than I’d first intended. Cody didn’t want to hear about my issues. “They’re good people and I know they love me, but…Eventually, I figured out that I’d get more of their attention if I was calm and did the things they liked to do.”

“Like knitting and drinking tea and shopping at Chico’s?”

I laughed. “How do you even know what Chico’s is?”

He smiled. “I get my mom a gift card there every Christmas.”

“How original and thoughtful.”

He grunted. “I’m a man. A gift card is the best I can do.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I said. “Try putting a bit more thought into her next gift and see how that works out for you.”

“Are you still close to your parents now that they’ve retired down south?”

“We chat on the phone at least once a week,” I said. “But they’ve never…They don’t really understand many of my life choices. They think I’m wasting myself working as a teacher and they can’t stand Dilly. They would rather stick splinters under their nails than garden. They thought I was making a mistake taking in Harrison and sided with his father the one time he tried to start something about a custody battle. He never followed it through, thankfully. Let’s just say it’s a bit easier on us all to have a lot of miles between us.”

He stared at the windshield, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, his lips pursed. “It must have been lonely for you as a kid. After your sister moved out.”

“It was. I was only six when she left home to go to college, and eight when she stopped coming home for summer breaks. It was like losing a parent in a lot of ways, losing the one person who really understood me.”

“You were lucky to have her.”

“I used to dream I had a huge family, like you do. I’d wish every night for my parents to have more kids. They probably would have keeled over at the thought. You must have had so much fun being part of such a big family.”

“Let’s see if you still say that after this weekend.”

I read to him until we stopped for dinner. After dinner, he told me about his brothers and sisters. His oldest brother, Noah, and his oldest sister, Jill, worked for the family business and were, according to him, type-A, toe-the-line types. His next oldest sister, Jenna, was a college professor. His younger brother, Jared, was a veterinarian, and his youngest sister, May, was the twenty-four-year-old baby of the family and currently unemployed. I could tell from the way he spoke of them that he loved them all, but it was clear May was his favorite and he babied her.

I was yawning and struggling to keep my eyes open, even though it was only eight, when he parked on the street in front of a stately stone town home. I could see the skyscrapers of the city behind the row of houses, and it looked like we were only walking distance from them. “Are we here?”

“We are,” he said, his mouth a grim line. “Look, I should warn you. I left Atlanta after my dad’s funeral and I haven’t been back until now. I haven’t seen my family in years.”

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