Page 72 of Miss Humbug
I was mad at myself for believing I could get what I wanted, but also how I’d put Marlowe in the position to fight her family. She’d spent years staying away for this specific reason, to establish herself on her own, and I’d dunked her right back in. Of course her family would keep seeing her as the baby to protect. A child, not an adult with equal share on family matters. That’s how it had always been.
Families rarely changed. It was naive for either of us to believe ours might.
My anger wasn’t at Marlowe. Not at all. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make this all more stressful by telling you we didn’t own those acres. I just learned about it myself. It puts the farm in more of a bind if we owe money for what we’re already using, plus asking for more—if that’s even possible now. Anyway, it’s not your job to fix my family’s business. I shouldn’t have ever made the deal with you. That’s on me, not you.”
But then we wouldn’t have had this time together. I didn’t regret these past few weeks. Or what I’d told her last night. “Look, I meant it when I said I’d give this up. Maybe this is a big old sign telling me the farm isn’t going to work out. It’d be better if my folks sold the property and rode off into the sunset on their cruise ship of choice. I’ll figure out something else to do with my life.”
Marlowe’s shoulders slumped. “But you love your farm. You don’t want to do something else. If you did, you’d be doing that.”
“Just because I want the farm to succeed doesn’t mean it will. It might be time to call it quits. I’m not a failure because the farm didn’t work.”
Her back went rigid.
I wanted to yank the words from the air. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”
“No, I got your meaning. A career setback isn’t a life altering crisis for you. Got it.”
Her prickly tone told me I’d hurt her as I’d feared. “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry. And you’re right. I want the farm to work out. It’s the thing I’m good at and I want to grow the business. But I also love you and want you in my life. I don’t know if I get to have both.”
Right now, I might not get either. And maybe neither was for me tohavein the first place.
“You don’t deserve this mess.” She pointed at herself. “Once we get this trust thing underway, I’ll do everything I can to sort out the land issue so it’s fair for you and your family. I don’t want anything else getting in the way.”
I moved toward her. “If you’re implying you are in the way, you aren’t.”
“Ethan. You have a stable job with room for growth. All I’ve done is muck it up.”
I liked how she saidmuck it up, but nothing else about this conversation was worth liking.
Marlowe leaned against the counter by the sink. “Grans is going to have a fit when she hears about all this.”
A startled laugh fell out of me. “You haven’t told your grandmother about these plans? She’s the one who’s supposed to determine the inheritance. And here you thought I was leaving out details.”
Her cheeks colored. “She’s been out all day.”
“Which is perfect timing for a family meeting to exclude her.”
She couldn’t hide her guilt. “Think she knows about the farm land?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” One thing about this family that never shocked me—they were always full of surprises.
Marlowe and I parted on shaky terms. Not earthquake shaken, but maybe lightly shaken, not stirred? Man, I really wanted to watch the latest 007 movie with her. It made our combined Movies to Watch list.
Who was I kidding? Movies were a distraction to the real issue. Marlowe was loyal to her family first and foremost. As we’d established, I was not a Holly. I didn’t want to be a Holly when it came to Marlowe, but it also meant I definitely didn’t factor into deciding anything to do with the house, the land, or their family.
I’d told Marlowe I was taking off and we could talk later. I for sure didn’t want to stick around for when their grandmother returned. By the time I made it out to my truck, she’d already texted.
Marlowe:Let’s give this some time
I sat in the truck for a beat, looking at the house. She only had another week here, through Christmas. So this was what, time for her to pack up and head out?
I drove to the farm. The last few days were a lot to take in. Getting away from the Holly family in general seemed like the right move.
Shoppers swarmed the farm, still surprising me how many people waited until the week leading into Christmas to buy a Christmas tree. Business was good, except we were running out of trees to sell. Not the best situation for a tree farm.
After sprucing up the decimated sales area where the porch pots and door wreaths had been—now branch scraps and errant pine needles—I headed to the trailer office.
“Hey, look who’s here.” Dad was all smiles.
