Helooks down at his shoes, socks, and pants caked in mud.Hehas to be furious.Hasto be.Notonly because of the value of the ruined clothes, but also because of how uncomfortable his feet surely are.
Thenhe bends down and undoes, with some difficulty, the soggy shoelaces.Itry to get a grip and prevent my face contorting into an expression of utter disbelief, butI’mnot sureIhave a good enough poker face for this.
“Butwe’d bring what they want toMainStreet.”Hepulls off a shoe and plants his argyle-socked foot firmly in the mud. “Theywould be spending locally.”Offcomes the other shoe.
Helifts a pant leg and peels off one soaked, muddy sock, then the other, and tosses them aside.Hisbare feet are bright white against the mud.
Helooks up at my, presumably, astonished face.
“What?”Hesmiles and shrugs. “Myfeet were already soaked anyway.AndIcan get more purchase with bare feet than slick shoes.”
What’sgoing on?What’swrong with him?What’she playing at?
“I’veeaten a giant bug and an anus, remember?”Hetilts his head to one side, a wicked gleam in his eyes.It’sirritatingly attractive. “IfIhave to walk barefoot through mud, and possibly some goat poop, to get you to accept my offer,Iwill.”
Damnhim.Thiswasmygame.He’snot allowed to change the rules.
Hisfeet slurp across the wet earth as he walks over to me like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his pant legs dragging in the dirt.
“Comeon then.Tellme.Howmuch for the shop?Howmuch do you need to fix this place up?”Hethrows his arms wide and gestures around us. “Thepaint’s flaking off the window frames of the house, the sheds are starting to rot, and the roof on that thing”—he points at the goat house—“looks like it’s only staying up as a favor.”
Sohe’s taken it all in, huh?Ahot rush of fury rises within me.He’dappeared to be just casually looking around.Butno, he was assessing the place for weak spots.Andhe clearly thinksI’mone of them.
Ibend down to take the baby bottles out of the bucket and to hide my flaming cheeks.
“Youknow it makes sense.”He’sacting like he’s fully in charge of the situation now, like this is his boardroom, not my home. “IfIbuy the shop, it’d give you and your mom a nice cushion.Youcould even give your eccentric assistant a nice layoff package.Andmaybe there are some specialty tools your mom could get to help her still enjoy the soap making, even on her bad days.”
Everysuggestion is like a punch in that soft spot right below my ribs.Asenticing as his offer is,Iam not giving in to this man and his giant checkbook.
Itip the grain into the feeder trough. “Youdon’t want my shop.Youwant me to stop the protests against yours.”
“Isn’tit the same thing?”Helooks down as the baby nibbles at his pant leg again.
“Ineed to fill up the water.”Istep away to turn on the hose attached to the goat house.
“Look,” he says, skidding in my direction. “Yourlife could be so much better if you had enough cash to renovate this place.”
He’sright.Ofcourse, he’s right.Atsome point my mom will need grab bars and ramps in the house to help her get around.Maybea special bathtub or something.Ilook up at the goat house roof,Lordknows it could do with some patching—or ripping down and rebuilding.
Namingmy price and takingMax’scheck would solve all of that in an instant.Nomore shop worries, no more house worries, no moreMomworries.Howcan it not be tempting?Onlya crazy person would turn that down, right?
Butit would make me feel as dirty asMax’ssocks.I’mnot taking the devil’s dollar.
Ican make the money we need myself.IknowIcan make the shop a success.Mybusiness.ThatIstarted.Idon’t need to sell my principles to a rich fly-by-night for a giant handout.
Istick the end of the hose in the water trough. “Ican take care of everything.”
Thekid yanks at his pants again.Thistime there’s a ripping noise.
Goodfor you, little one.Istifle a snicker.
Surely, he’ll give up now and leave.
Buthe casually bends over and rolls up the non-yanked-on leg, revealing a perfectly shaped, worked-out calf. “Mightas well try to save one leg.”
There’sa cold splash on my knee, andIlook down to see the other baby yanking the hose out of the trough.Ilunge for it before she can run off with it.Maybeshe’s developed a hose fetish and it was she who caused the leak the other day.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”Iget my fingers around it just in time, water spurting all down my front untilImanage to get a better grip and direct the spray off to the side.
