Page 70 of Your Two Lips
“No,” I said. “My mother passed away when I was in college.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Her sympathy was genuine, and I gave her an appreciative smile. “Me too. It was a long time ago. My dad is great. He started dating a wonderful woman, and I think it will finally slow him down. My older brother, Grayson, lives in central Washington. His wife is a winemaker at Ridge Bend Cellars.”
“Oh, I love that wine. That must be interesting.”
“It’s nice to visit them and taste what she’s working on. I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like.” I made a mental note to visit this fall before the snow started in the passes.
“Finn said you work in the spa at The Elliot.” Donna’s eyes were bright again.
“Mom, let’s stop with the third degree. Do you want to know her major in college? Let me touch on some high notes. Graduated from U-dub with a degree in biology, then massage therapy school. Worked in Seattle at a hospital and in Whistler at a spa, and now she’s here. And she is a badass on a mountain bike.”
Donna shot him a withering glance.
“Thanks, Finn. That’s the basics.” I elbowed him in the rib. “I love it here. It’s so beautiful. My house overlooks the channel on the northwest side of the island. I love the view of the water.”
“She lives next door to Miss Natalie and Miss Nell,” Finn added, cutting into his perfectly grill-marked steak.
“Oh my, that must be fun.” Donna winked.
“They’re independent ladies who do things their own way and offer no excuses. I admire that,” I said.
“Me too.” Tess grinned.
“You bought a house?” Finn’s dad asked.
Owning a house here, particularly on the west side, was an advertisement for at least a certain amount of wealth. I didn’t want to come off as just another rich person.
“A house in Perry Harbor is always a sound investment, whether or not you live here. I enjoyed growing up in Seattle even with the construction noise and the traffic, but the quiet, the water, and the people, that fits me better.” I was babbling. I glanced at Finn, but his expression was unreadable.
“I hear that,” Bob said.
“The quiet of farming must be a wonderful life with a beautiful view,” I said.
“It is, and it’s backbreaking, and unpredictable, risky and out of control, and miraculous. I can’t imagine doing anything else. Finn got the farming bug too, and he’s learning.”
Finn’s smile was polite but didn’t reach his eyes. I knew comments like that shook him. I’m sure his dad didn’t intend to imply Finn couldn’t do it, but I understood why Finn heard it that way.
“This land has been in Bob’s family for generations,” Donna preened, her pride evident.
“My grandfather came here in the late forties,” Bob said. “First, it was orchards, but being Dutch, growing bulbs was in the blood. He shifted the farm to bulbs, and here we are with Finn, four generations later.”
In the blood. Finn had a family legacy to uphold. I couldn’t give that to him. What was I doing? How long could I justifiably stay when I knew it had to end? I pushed the question to the back of my mind.
“If this land is in our blood, we literally rubbed it in via year-round cuts and scrapes,” Finn said.
“You loved it, and so will your kids,” Donna said.
“You’re probably right, Mom.” He glanced at me from the side, and I looked away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice any sadness.
“I think every kid should get the chance to play in the dirt, at least sometimes,” I said. That earned a smile from Finn, and some of my sadness loosened.
“Finn dug all those holes, and Tess made all the mud pies,” Lucas added. “I didn’t play in the dirt much.”
“You built stick forts on the tractor paths,” Tess said.
“It was the highest part of the field. I couldn’t build my forts on land that could flood. That would never work.”
