That was his story and he was sticking to it.
“Are you happy you did? Because that is all a parent wants.”
“I’m happy to be home,” he said. “I might not show it.”
“You’re not unhappy,” his father said. “We know that. But you’re... different.”
“So are you. You’ve mellowed out. Normally a conversation like this would have us shouting.”
“The wisdom of age,” his father said, snorting.
“There you go. Do you need help doing anything else? I want to check out the trees in the back. I can’t wait to pick them soon.”
His father had expanded the crop behind the house on their property four years ago, then three years some more. When Clay returned, he doubled what his father had planted because he had his vision and was determined to see it through.
“They look good,” his father said. “Do you plan on doing a special batch with just farm-picked apples here?”
He looked at his father’s hopeful glance.
Funny how he hadn’t mentioned this to anyone and it was something he’d come up with just recently.
“Actually,” he said. “I thought of it myself. A new design on the can, limited edition. I need to make it different from my base.”
“You can have it ready in a month? Or will this be longer?”
“I’m going to have it on the shelves in six weeks,” he said. “Toward late October, but hopefully sooner.”
“Try cinnamon or pumpkin. The fall flavors.”
“I was thinking cinnamon and a ginger one. Two of them. Then cranberry around the holidays. The ginger will take me into that also. Possibly big bottles rather than cans. Like wine bottle size.”
“I like that idea,” his father said. “The cranberry one in a bottle around the holidays could be a big hit.”
“A new flavor and product doing that.”
He was ready to take more risks. So far everything else was working for him.
“You should talk to your wedding planner about it. She might have some good ideas with designs for bottles to offer as part of the packages there.”
He hadn’t thought of that. Was surprised his father had.
Or maybe he was just so close-minded about his father’s train of thought because they always argued.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
“Don’t sound so pained about it,” his father said, slapping him on the back. “You’re doing a good thing here. I know I don’t say that to you often. That I even gave you a hard time about eliminating the picking for the public.”
“It’s hard to let go of everything you’ve always known,” he said. Clay turned away and walked back to the truck. He had shit to do and it’d get his father off his back with the man-to-man talk.
His father sighed but climbed in the truck with him. “I’ll let you off back at the mill. I’ve got things to do unless you need me there.”
“Nope, I’m good. Do what you need to.” Clay pulled his phone out and made a note to email Meredith about his father’s idea. He’d have to take the steps and getting inventory here and designs if he did it.
It’d be easier for him to talk about that than all that other shit he had collected for weddings. She was on her own. He just didn’t need those details and would make sure she was aware of it.
7
FOOT IN HER MOUTH
