Page 73 of Miss Humbug
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” My boot hit the side of a wooden Santa parked on the floor by the door. The Santa tipped over and I left it. That was my mood.
Dad nodded toward the open chair, but I preferred to stand. He shrugged. “Talked to Leon Sanderson and his daughter Kylie. They’re thinking of getting out of the cherry business.”
The Sandersons owned a cherry tree farm not far from us. The local farmers all knew each other and talked shop over coffee regularly. More of a Dad thing than my scene. I eventually heard all the coffee chatter from him anyway.
I grunted a response which signaled Dad to keep talking. “Told him about your plans to expand the tree farm and they got a real interested look.”
“Huh. Why’s that?”
“Cherry farming isn’t as lucrative as it once was. Leon will talk your ear off on why. Kylie’s real keen on it being time to evolve. I told her, ‘You sound like my son.’ Anyway, they might be up for chatting with you about theseevolving ideas.” Dad grinned.
I found myself taking a seat anyway. And tipped the wooden Santa back upright. “I don’t know if I have it in me to do what this farm needs. The Hollys know about the borrowed land—on a sticky note? Really?—and I’m not sure they’re into the idea of selling more land, having not known about the acres we already have.”
Dad let out a long sigh. “I always planned to talk to Emmaline formerly. Pretty sure she knows and doesn’t mind.”
“Pretty sure doesn’t mean much when the house is changing ownership and they need an accurate property map.”
“You don’t say?”
I filled him in on the latest. I skipped a lot of details, mainly about me and Marlowe declaring love for each other and anything else related to our relationship. And my own thoughts on whether we could even call what we had a relationship. It hurt too much to think about her, but also? TMI for a convo with my dad.
“Anything else you care to mention?” he asked.
Definitely not any of the Marlowe stuff. “What else is there?”
He tapped at his phone and faced it toward me. “This you and one of the Holly boys wrestling in town square?”
My eyes fell shut. “Yeah. That happened.”
He chuckled. “Next video I see of you better be picking up road trash right along with the Holly clan.”
How he knew about the community service, I had no idea.
“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, son. A legendary dust-up like that? Word spreads like wildfire.”
Town gossip for the win. “Sorry, I lost my head. I’ll do what’s necessary to make up for it.”
“I believe you. How’s Marlowe?”
“She’s fine.”
He gave me a steady, stern look. His features softened. “I know you’ve had feelings for her a long while.”
Nope. I stood, ready to bolt.
“Your mother and I had a rocky start too. Did you know I asked her out three years before she said yes?”
I nodded. I’d heard the story. They met early in college but didn’t start dating until the end. When they discovered they were the only two sober people at a party their friends dragged them to, they dropped off their friends at home and went on to a 24/7 diner where they talked until sunrise. They were inseparable ever since.
“Sometimes people need to work out their own kinks before they see what’s right in front of them,” he said.
“We both need time to clear our heads,” I admitted. “So whatever the farm needs this week, I’m all in. No distractions.”
I could tell he wanted to say more. Dad wasn’t a chatty guy, but he could get going if he thought he had a point. “Talk to the Sandersons and see if you like their idea. Don’t let this one go. I have a good feeling.”
He handed me a phone number on paper torn from a scratch pad. I plugged the number into my phone’s contact list, then pitched the paper into recycling. I headed for the door.
“And, son?”
