Bonnie said she was grateful for new beginnings, her eyes fastened to her baby, and Layla said she was grateful for the opportunity to experience different things. Ben copied Sam, and said he was grateful for family and the chance to be a dad, and then only Darren hadn’t gone.
Everyone looked at him expectantly, and he picked up the pilgrim hat that still looked like a child had made it. “I’m grateful for traditions.”
And he was. He felt steeped in them here at the farmhouse where he’d grown up, and it was one of the things he loved most about the Bybee’s farm. Jim and Corey had traditions, even if it was simply eating dinner at six o’clock every evening. And Jim clearing the table. And the two of them singing while they did the dishes.
Darren loved that farm and everything on it because of the rich tradition it held. He wanted to add to it, grow it, cultivate it into his own legacy.
It means something to be a Buttars.
He hadn’t felt whole in a while, like Farrah’s departure from his life had left holes in his soul. But sitting around the table with his family, some of that ache disappeared. Still, whenever he thought about who would be by his side as he expanded and enriched the existing traditions at the Bybee farm, it was always Farrah.
Farrah, who had fallen in love with the farm and the boutique almost as fast as Darren had.
So as turkey and mashed potatoes got passed around the table, Darren sent a quick prayer heavenward that Farrah wassomewhere safe and inviting this Thanksgiving, and that she’d feel a measure of happiness the same way Darren did.
chapter
twenty
After too muchturkey and two pieces of pumpkin pie, Farrah opened her laptop to fight off the effects of tryptophan. Or maybe she’d simply eaten so much she felt like she needed to sleep for days.
No matter what, she wanted to show her parents the agribusiness degree she’d researched at the University of Vermont. “It’s right here in Burlington,” she said, turning the computer toward them. Her mom sipped her coffee and peered at the screen.
“It goes right along with what I already do at the Bybee’s.” She didn’t bother to call the farm Darren’s, though she should. He hadn’t renamed it yet. Hadn’t put up a new sign. She’d watched him toss two bags into the back of his truck a couple of days ago and rumble down the lane toward the highway. He’d probably gone to either Sam’s or Logan’s for the holiday. The farm had seemed empty without him there, though there were farmhands coming to take care of the horses as usual.
Farrah had come to Burlington on Tuesday night, and she was staying until Sunday. “I’ve already applied to the program,” she said. “And I think I’m going to move up here.”
Her dad’s eyebrows shot up and he switched his gaze from the screen to her face. “Really? You’d leave that yard you’ve cultivated?” He cocked his head to the side at her casual shrug. “Farrah, you love that yard.”
And she did. She couldn’t deny that. “It’s a thirty-seven minute drive from my house to the university. If I live on the south side of town, I can get to work in fifteen minutes.” Having the farm halfway between the two cities was a real plus, and Farrah hadn’t been as excited about anything as she was about starting college. At least not for a long time.
“The south side?” Her mom made a face. “Farrah, that’s not the best neighborhood.”
“There’s lot of new development,” Farrah said. She’d already looked at condos and townhomes going in near the historical museums and other old buildings that used to be the heart of Burlington. “I think the neighborhood is changing.”
So maybe she’d driven by it on her way into town. She almost felt giddy from the excitement of doing something with her life that felt right.
“How are you going to afford something new?” her mom asked. “And pay for college?”
Farrah sucked in a breath, the lie easily forming in her mind. She shoved it out, pushed hard against the desire to keep the secret she’d had for eighteen months. But she’d already told Darren, and that alone gave her strength.
“I, uh, actually, I have quite a bit of money from my time in LA.”
“You do?” her parents asked at the same time. They exchanged a glance and it was her dad who added, “I didn’t think you’d been cast in anything major.”
“I never was.” In fact, she’d hardly worked there, unless waitressing at a breakfast bar counted. “This money is from my…from Gary Lewis.” He wasn’t her dad. Her real dad was sitting in front of her, his mouth hanging partially open.
“What?” her mom asked.
“Gary Lewis was my biological father. He passed away last year, and he didn’t have a will or any family. I had my original birth certificate, and I’d made contact with him several times, and well, the lawyer said I got his estate.”
Her mom pushed away from the table and took a couple of steps back. Her hand fluttered near her throat. “Oh, I?—”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Farrah stood and put both her hands on her mom’s shoulders. “Its just money. He wasn’t my dad.”
The resulting silence felt powerful and yet peaceful. Her dad joined them, and Farrah hugged her parents. “You guys are my mom and dad.” She smiled, finally feeling like she belonged to them and they belonged to her. “And I really think there’s a condo near the lake that has my name on it.”
Farrah rodethe elevator up to Meredith’s condo, a stable of nerves in her stomach. She hadn’t attended bunko night since September. She may have been invited; she couldn’t really remember.
