Graham
Icicles line the branches of the evergreen boughs, the shadows from the forest cast a blue hue over the sparkling snow, and every rooftop visible to the human eye is laden with a thick coat of sugary icing that fell from the sky. There is nothing more intoxicating than Gingerbread in winter—with the exception of Mistletoe Winters. Yes, Missy is the finest wine, and those kisses have made me drunk off our love. I had seen people I know fall hard and fast—watched their affect change, their habits, and ultimately their legal status, as one by one my friends have gotten married. I swore it wouldn’t happen to me. It seemed unnatural, as if they were suddenly under a spell and they had no control over their good senses. It never seemed to happen slowly. It was always so quick. One moment they were hanging out in bars with you, and the next they couldn’t pencil you in for coffee. They had a place to be, and it wasn’t with their friends. It was that invisible leash I swore I would never don, and here I don’t want to move an inch away from Missy, let alone spend hours a day apart. I get it. It happened fast, and it happened hard. I’m in love with Missy.
A goofy grin glides over my face as I drive through the countryside on my way to the family orchard. I’ve been back in Gingerbread for three weeks now, and I’m just now getting around to making the trek. And as much as I feel bad about it, I refuse to let the guilt get to me. Over the last few years, Tanner has never made me feel welcome on that plot of earth that’s been in my family for generations. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him that it’s the last place I want to be.
Noel barks up a storm as we near the orchard as if she could feel the excitement of the ranch herself. It’ll be her first time on the property, and I know she’ll love it. It’s acre after acre of free roaming and enough backwoods to get lost in for a year. I plan on keeping her leashed for the most part, but once she looks at me with those sad brown eyes, I know I’ll have to let her loose. She’s been pretty good about bouncing right back to me after her playful forays into the unknown. I guess she understands what side her bread is buttered on—and thanks to Missy, it’s buttered with only the finest ingredients. I’m pretty sure Noel is on the crème de la crème of doggie diets—and for Noel, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Tanner sent a cryptic text this morning, so I thought instead of texting back, I’d head up to the orchard to hear what he has to say myself. Besides, what’s better than the element of surprise to see what’s really going on at this place day to day?
I drive under the large iron sign that readsWelcome to Holiday Orchards!and a chill runs through me. Even when I was a kid, driving under that monolithic banner gave me a sense of pride. It made me feel as though my family was truly special and that anything we set out to do in this world was for our taking. Success runs in my family, and I’ve clung to that fact for years. It’s what’s fueled me along the way in becoming one of New York’s most prominent selling realtors. I simply believed that I could do it, that success was an inevitable part of the equation—and it seems to be. Sometimes in life that’s all you need, a little faith to bolster you to where you need to be. It can take you to the stratosphere every single time.
I park out by the sturdy oak, with its sprawling wingspan, just shy of the barn. Noel races from window to window as I glance down at the text one more time before getting out of the truck.Just a heads-up, you’re under investigation.
I have no clue what my brother is babbling about. Noel and I jump out and take in a lungful of fresh Holiday Orchard air, and she tugs and bites at the leash, already wanting a taste of freedom. It’s crisp out, the sky is a comfortable shade of gray, and I take a moment to feast my eyes on the grounds where the foundation of my life was laid.
The orchards to the far right have netting around them and sheeting to protect the more fragile trees from the frost. The garden just beyond that is buried in snow at the moment. There’s a greenhouse the size of a shopping mall in the distance, and it glows a beautiful shade of emerald. That’s where the seeds germinate for spring plantings, and anything that can’t survive the winter gets stored in. To my left, the barn sits tall and proud. The paint is chipping and the color has faded to a rosy pink, but it welcomes me with its toothless smile like that of an old faithful friend. The main house sits just behind it with cheery peach lights on in various rooms.
Mom and Dad called this morning and let me know they were headed to Denver to take care of a few last-minute holiday details, but the house is most likely being prepped for their annual Christmas dinner by a small crew my mother hires for the event. Every year they invite a few dozen friends to share in the feast. It’s become a time-honored tradition that those who make the cut look forward to. I used to look forward to the event myself, still do.
Behind the main house there are at least six cottages that dot the property. Tanner has made the biggest one his home. I have no clue what kind of luck he’s had with the ladies, but I’d hate to think he’s spending one too many lonely nights in that thing. As much as Tanner and I have distanced ourselves from one another, I really do care about my brother. And being alone is no way to live.
A familiar looking dude with a dove gray cowboy hat planted over his head strides out of the barn with a wheelbarrow treading in front of him, and I jog on over.
“Tanner Holiday.” I flash a quick grin his way before looking into the manure pile he’s laden his cart with. “Still slinging bull, I see. Some things never change.”
He takes off his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow. “I keep forgetting to laugh whenever you’re around. I see you brought your better half.” He bends over, and Noel makes a beeline for him, licking his face and giving him all the love she has to offer. Noel is clearly a lover and not a fighter. And it’s becoming quickly apparent she’s not choosing sides between my brother and me.
“She definitely brings out the best in people.” Noel keeps trying to get deeper into the barn so I drop the leash and let her run wild as she darts inside. “So, what’s up? You sic the IRS on me? Or did you find someone far more lethal to teach me a lesson?”
He grunts as he leads us to the wet bar inside the barn. Yes, there is a bona fide granite counter with stools dotting around the outskirts with enough seating for ten people. My mother thought that the ranch hands needed to take a seat and have a nice cold drink once in a while. The full-sized fridge next to it is stocked with tea and lemonade mostly, and there’s a microwave for reheating food if needed. She also had a few bathrooms installed in the back, taking our barn to the next employee lunchroom level.
Tanner pulls out a bottle of water for the both of us before plopping down next to me.
He falls forward on his elbows, hanging his head a moment as if claiming defeat. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you train her on me?”
“Train who? Areyoubeing investigated by the IRS?” My heart thumps wildly because I wouldn’t do that to anybody. I learned a long time ago that messing with the IRS was like catching a tiger by the tail. No thanks. I like my body parts just where they are.
“Sabrina Jarrett.” His dark brows dip down, and he looks decidedly like me after a rough morning in the gym, far too red-faced and sweaty for my own good.
I lean back in my seat and marvel for a moment. “So that’s where she went.” It’s been a blissful week of almost zero contact from the woman, save for the daily texts wishing me a good day, letting me know she’s thinking about me, sending me snapshots of her feet propped up while in the bathtub. Thankfully, that’s as explicit as those pictorials have gotten. But there’s a thin rail of terror in me whenever I get another message from her. You never know when Sabrina will be moved to take things to the next level.
He inches his head back. “What do you mean ‘that’s where she went’? She’s been here all week hounding me for information about you. Now she’s hanging around, pretending to be interested in every facet of the orchard. She even hitched a ride to the factory with me yesterday. We were there for six hours, and she followed along as though she were on some sort of an internship. Did you put her up to this? And for God’s sake, why?”
My mouth opens for a moment. I can’t seem to figure this out. “I didn’t put her up to anything. She’s been after me ever since I set foot in town. She kept alluding to the fact we’re meant to be.” My jaw grinds hard. “Meant to be a safe distance from one another is more like it.” I down a third of my water bottle before turning to my brother.
“Huh.” He studies me a moment. “You do seem rather clueless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means what it always means. You come into town, shocked to hear the factory is closing, and yet you haven’t even looked at the finances in years. How did it feel getting out of that fancy truck of yours today? I bet the landscape looked foreign. There’s not a thing on this ranch you’ve seen or touched in a decade. It’s all on me. Every frigging tree that’s standing is standing because of my care, my hands. After Dad retired, he left everything tous. What a joke. The only thing you’re good at is collecting a fat paycheck at the end of the month.”
“It’s not that fat.” I can’t help but stick him with the dig. I don’t like his tone or the fact he’s inferring that I don’t care. I do care. Something deep inside of me cinches because I’m not quite sure how true that rings.
“Those checks might be a little fatter if you gave a damn.” He knocks back his water. “A lot of things might be different around here if I had a hand or two helping me out where I really need it—marketing, sales. I’m too busy doing the grunt work to put my head where it really belongs. Instead of working smarter, I’m working harder.” He gets up and makes his way back to his wheelbarrow. “You know what that feels like? It feels like I’ve got a giant boulder the size of New York City planted over my chest, and I can’t get out from under it.” He glares at me a moment. “Go on. Get out of here. I bet you can’t wait to get back to New York just to make that boulder on my chest that much heavier. It’s what you do best.” He takes off, and my body goes numb from the sting of his words. As much as I want to speed the heck away from this place, from my brother and his glaring accusations, I can’t seem to move. A part of me knows he was speaking the truth. And in this instance, the truth very much feels like a knife to the chest.
I muster the strength to collect Noel, and we hop into the truck and drive through the back roads of the orchard while I let that entire conversation sink down to the marrow in my bones.
I hate that I’ve become a weight for my brother.
