Melissa smiled at me and shrugged before joining her mother at the counter for her brownie. It struck me as odd. Her mother made it sound like it was medicine, but it was clearly a baked treat. Melissa looked like she was about nine or ten—well past the age of hiding medicine in foods. My mother was so obsessed with my health as a child that I’d learned to swallow pills at age six. Her mother evensliced the brownie into pieces and fed them to Melissa one at a time between sips of milk. Not wanting to get caught staring, I unrolled my napkin and placed it on my lap while waiting for my waffles.
“That was delicious.” I handed Erica a twenty-dollar bill to pay for my breakfast. She didn’t reply, handing me my change instead. It was when I attempted to hand her a five-dollar bill as a tip that she finally spoke.
“You really don’t remember me, do you?” She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips.
“I’m sorry. I don’t.” One of my strengths was my superior memory for names, faces, and life stories, but I was drawing a complete blank.
“I’m not surprised.” She rolled her eyes and slammed the register shut. “Keep it.” She tilted her chin at the bill I was still holding. I took two stunned steps toward the door of the diner when anger made me stop and turn to face Erica, still standing at the register.
“You know what?” I began. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry. But you obviously know me. To be completely honest, I don’t give a shit whether or not you like me.” The entire diner fell silent, and I could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on me. “But I’m gonna be in this town for a while, and I’m definitely coming back for more of those waffles because they were really freaking good. So if you’re going to insist on being rude every time you see me, I at least want to know why.” I glared at her before slamming the five-dollar bill on the counter. “And if you don’t want this tip, at least give it to the hostess because her customer service skills are impeccable, unlike management’s, which leave a lot to be desired.”
I glared at her with my eyebrow raised, waiting for a response. A few tense seconds passed. Erica tucked her lips between her teeth,her chest jumped in tiny spasms, and she burst out laughing. I stood, stunned, as she slapped the counter, almost doubling over.
“Oh my God!” she said with a wistful sigh as her laughter subsided. “You haven’t changed at all.”
“Excuse me,” I said impatiently, trying to bring her back to focus on the matter at hand.
“I’m Erica Lee—well, Burgess now.” She looked at me, still smiling. I stared at her in confusion and she rolled her eyes. “I used to play with you and Annie when you visited your grandparents. Our moms were best friends…” Her voice died away and her smile faded. “Holy shit. You really don’t remember, do you?”
“I don’t… I don’t remember much about my childhood before… before Annie died.”
“Well, I don’t know if I’m the right one for you to talk to about this, but Annie’s death was really hard on a lot of people in this town, especially your grandparents.” Her face was serious. “And your mother…” Her face hardened as her voice trailed off again. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Not now, at least.” She sighed and grabbed a cloth to wipe off the counter. “Maybe I was a little hard on you, but old wounds, you know?”
I nodded, still not completely understanding but glad that at least she was being nice.
“Look, I’m not really sure what I’m doing here—in this town, I mean. But I’m looking for answers about my grandparents, about Annie, about the past. I’m not getting them from my mother, and if there’s anything you can tell me, I would be really grateful.”
She stared at me for a long moment, and she seemed to be working out a complicated problem. Finally, she spoke.
“Fine,” she conceded. “But not now.”
“Okay.” I nodded with a smile. “Thank you. At least you know where to find me.”
She nodded as I backed out of the restaurant, winking at Melissa on the way out.
I kept thinking about my strange conversation with Erica as I walked into the Feed ’n’ Farm. It was a large, almost warehouse-size store that sold practically everything, and I mean everything. There were groceries, animal feed, clothing, farm equipment, and everything in between, including live animals. The pen holding the tiny piglets almost made my heart burst from cuteness, but the smell gave me flashbacks to yesterday’s disastrous events and reminded me that they don’t stay that little.
I asked one of the associates about proper farm attire. Her face dawned with recognition, and I remembered Melissa telling me that everyone in town was talking about me. To my surprise, she retrieved the owner of the store, who insisted on helping me personally, which I thought was odd but nice.
I walked out with five pairs of thick coveralls, three different jackets, two hats, four types of work gloves that actually fit, three pairs of boots, five flannel shirts, three pairs of protective eyewear, ten pairs of socks, a helmet for some reason, and two different types of masks. No more swallowing spiderwebs for this girl.
It felt like overkill, but I didn’t know any better, and Roberta assured me that this was the best farm wear available. I didn’t wantto take any chances after yesterday, and what’s the point of having a high credit limit if you can’t use it in emergencies? I cringed as I signed the credit slip and tried to convince myself that I was making an investment in my future. I could justify spending a thousand dollars on a handbag but balk at a twenty-dollar shipping fee. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on a single night of dinner and dancing but complained about spending two hundred dollars on a week’s worth of groceries. It didn’t help that I no longer had a job and had no plan for how to pay the credit card bill other than by dipping into my savings.
“It’s worth it,” I repeated to myself and handed the clerk the signed slip before dragging the overstuffed shopping bags to my car.
Once I got back to the farm, I needed two trips to take all of my new farm clothes into the house.
I carefully decided which outfit would be best suited for today’s farm work. The problem was, I didn’t know what I’d be doing today.
I decided to be overly cautious. I put on a tank top, a long-sleeve T-shirt, a long-sleeve flannel, leggings, a pair of coveralls, two pairs of socks, and the heavy-duty work boots. I pulled my hair back, slathered some moisturizer with SPF on my face, and put on my work goggles. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror, mostly because of all the padding from the layers of clothing. Maybe this was a good thing. Hadn’t I come here to learn about myself? Maybe this was the new Emma. I turned and took a step toward the bathroom and tripped over my feet, landing almost face-first on my bedroom floor.
Oh, if Max could see me now.
“I guess I have to get used to these big-ass boots.” I scrambled tomy feet—actually thankful for all the padding from the clothes and wondering if I should also grab the helmet—and walked to the bathroom, ready to take on the farm.
To say the large barn was “behind the house” was a bit of an overstatement. You could see the barn from the kitchen window, but it was a long walk—a very long walk. I developed a new appreciation for Dan’s muscles. Then, I had to stop myself from thinking about Dan’s muscles.
I was greeted by Ernesto when I reached the entrance of the barn. He was holding a shovel and talking to another man when he spotted me and did a double take. He was probably surprised to see that I was willing to come back to work after yesterday’s disastrous start.
