Page 51 of Butter You Up
“Effervescent?” Ethan asks, coming in the door with Diane and Alex in tow, carrying platters of grilled veggies and meats. For some reason, he says it in a British accent.
“Effervescent!” Colleen shouts from the dining room where she’s setting the table.
Ethan glances at Alex, who twirls his free hand and bows. “Effervescent.”
I look at Lia, bewildered.
“Ignore them,” she says. “It’s a joke from when they were kids. They’re making fun of fancy words.”
Nerves take up residence inside my stomach. An inside joke. Sure, Dad and I have a bunch of them, but in a room full of Bedds, standing on the outside looking in, I feel like I’ve misstepped or maybe thatI’mthe joke.
I try to shake off my discomfort as we all take our seats and dig into the food. It’s too loud to play my game with Ethel asking what she made, and she’s deep in a chat with Diane now about her heirloom tomatoes, so once we’re done passing food, I turn to Lia and Ethan.
“How did the sales this weekend go?”
Lia beams. “Fantastic. Sold out of berries, of course, but I think Mootilda really made people linger afterward, and that helped sell everything else.”
Besides Mootilda’s debut, there was also a new vendor—a flower truck that sold bouquets and flower crowns—and the Feed ’n Seed store held a raffle for a riding lawn mower and split the proceeds with Bedd Fellows.
Ethan practically glows. “It was a great weekend. Every week we get more emails from potential vendors.”
“It was a good day,” Alex agrees.
Ethan gives his brother a rueful smile before looking down at his plate and cutting up his grilled chicken. “Just think; we could have been doing this all along if you hadn’t left.”
Beside me, Alex goes completely still. My eyes widen, and across the table, Lia’s face drops.
“Left?” Alex’s voice has dropped two octaves.
Ethan glances up, a frown tugging his lips down. “Yeah. I mean, I get it, Grandad wasn’t listening to you. I just think of the time wasted when we could have been working the farm together.”
“Time wasted.” The conversation at the other end of the table dies, and the screech of Alex’s chair scraping back halts all the other noises until you could hear a pin drop as Alex glares down at his brother. “Just because I didn’t spend my time running in circles while you and Grandad faffed around with your soybeans doesn’t mean Iwasted my time.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ethan backtracks, rising to his feet and holding his hand out, placating. “Look, Grandad and I should have listened to you and Sam sooner. We could have used your help.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
“No.” Ethan’s fists clench at his sides. “Don’t put words into my mouth. When you left?—”
“I didn’t leave!” Alex roars. Outside, Trixie barks, and Alex’s face shutters, as if the noise reminds him he doesn’t have to be here. His napkin lands on his uneaten food and he spins, knocking over the wooden chair as he stomps toward the door.
Ethan follows. “Now you’re going to leave again? What, you still don’t get how hard it was when you got a job at another farm?”
The five of us left at the table glance at each other, then scramble to our feet to follow. “Jesus, I hope they don’t start wrestling,” Colleen mutters. “They’re too old for that.”
My heart races faster than my feet, worried that Alex is already in pain and wrecked because how have none of us noticed?
Out in the yard, Alex strides toward his truck, where Trixie stands in the bed, barking at the commotion.
“I’m allowed to be upset at you!” Ethan shouts at his back. “I had twice as much work to do, and Grandad was pissy about it.”
Alex reaches the truck and throws open the door.
“Alex.” There’s a warning in Ethan’s voice.
Stopping to glare at his brother, Alex holds the door open while Trixie jumps out the truck bed and into the cab. Alex slides into the front seat.
“Goddamn it.” Ethan takes his last two strides before the truck at a run and puts his hands on the tailgate, vaulting over to land in the bed of Alex’s truck with a thump that makes the whole truck jostle.
