Page 23 of Apple of My Eye
‘Doing what exactly?’
‘Well, as you’ve already guessed, I don’t farm.’
I nod. We’re about halfway to the North Barn, cresting over the gentle slope of a hill. I know Nick will hesitate before he does because I know this view by heart, and right in between our house and the barn there’s a lookout over a swell of land about half a mile away that looks like a dragon’s back. I’ve always felt like the land looks alive from here, undulating into the distance.
Like clockwork, his footsteps slow. ‘Not too shabby,’ he breathes.
We stop, perching our arms over the wooden fence that borders the path, and stand, staring into the distance. There’s a choir of cicadas humming in the air around us.
After a quiet minute of enjoying the view, Nick continues explaining. ‘I provide marketing and branding expertise. I’m in my last semester of graduate school at Stanford. I’ll graduate early—in January. I’m getting a degree in Marketing and Brand Strategy.’
‘So you won’t actually be farming?’
‘No.’ Nick laughs in a self-deprecating way. ‘But I’ll have to learn about it to market it well. I’m not contracted hourly to the Parkers or anything. All I’m obligated to do is give them a business and marketing plan. The rest of my time I’m free to do what I want.’
‘And this business plan is like a school test for you?’
‘We call it a capstone, but I guess you could view it as a test.’
‘So, if the Parkers’ farm doesn’t come back from bankruptcy, you’ll fail your course?’
‘Well, no.’
He’s got to be kidding me. He’s out here for nothing?‘So then what’s your incentive?’
He hesitates. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, a little more tense, higher than usual, closer to his earlobes. ‘I mean—’ he shrugs ‘—I want to help them. Figured I would use what I’ve been learning to make a difference .?.?. I suppose Icouldfail. But it’s unlikely.’ When I don’t say anything right away, he takes a deep breath. ‘I appreciate a job well done.’
‘Ah, so it’s less about altruism and more about being a perfectionist.’
Nick tilts his head back, staring at the evening sky. The stars have just started to wink to life. ‘Hmm, I’m not really a perfectionist. More like a successionist.’
‘That sounds like the name for a person who loves the showSuccession.’
Nick laughs. ‘I like success. I like to succeed.’ He smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘I was that kid growing up who really wanted a gold star,’ he admits.
‘Ah, so a teacher’s pet. I will note down gold stars as your love language.’
‘It’s a good thing I also like you busting my balls.’
‘Well then, it’s a great thing that’s one of my love languages. So, this little stint on the Parkers’ farm is just to practice charity before you go into the world and make a ton of money convincing people to buy things they don’t need?’ As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they’re too harsh, but my frustration is starting to feel like a living, breathing thing within me.
Nick recoils. ‘Well, we can’t all make a living the old-fashioned way. Even if we want to. Anyway, enough about me,’ he says, his voice tight. ‘How did you know they were bankrupt?’ He swings his gaze to meet mine. His eyes are so intensely brown that my heart flutters.
‘Everyone knows,’ I say, trying to keep my cool. The truth is everyone kind of knows, but it’s supposed to be unspoken. The tension in the air feels heavy. ‘It’s getting dark,’ I say before turning on a heel and heading towards the house.
With every step I feel my frustration grow.Why did he have to pickthistown? His capstone project doesn’t even matter! He already has a job! How dare he be so cute while doing it! Didn’t he stop to think who he would be affecting? He can just leave afterwards, but some people have to stay. Some people have to look out for their family.
I’m breathing hard when we get to the house, frustration simmering in my gut.
‘Eloise.’ Nick lays a hand on my arm as I reach out for the handle to the back door.
I spin around.
‘I feel like I keep offending you,’ he says. He glances at the ground, and I watch the way his long eyelashes flutter.
I feel his charm worming its way through my defenses. ‘You’re not,’ I say. I duck inside, motioning for him to follow me through the mudroom to the kitchen. I’m embarrassed at the way I’m acting, knowing I probably seem like a child, and exhausted that I have to explain my feelings to someone I don’t know.
‘I did in the grocery store,’ he murmurs.
