“Why don’t we eat outside?” I suggest.
Gail lights up. “That’s a great idea, Walker. It’s a beautiful evening.”
She’s not wrong. The moment I step outside, the warm breeze greets me. I take a deep breath of the fresh New England spring, which is almost as sweet as a Tally dessert, grateful that I get to live on this land where acres of color greet me. Lively green grass rustles in the wind, and daffodils dance for me.
Each day I discover another spot on this farm that I love, and tonight it’s a long wooden table big enough to fit both Tally and my family. It sits beneath a string of twinkle lights that hangs from the tall sycamore trees surrounding it, and it’s the perfect place to watch the sunset.
Quinn makes himself known immediately as he zips by me, pretending he’s a superhero. I carry the plates to the table and holler at him to help. For the next fifteen minutes, he fills me in on the superhero he’s made up, the stats for every single play on his baseball team, how much he hates his English class, and how his science teacher has the coolest fake eye. He’s barely taken a breath when the girls appear out the back door.
“That boy can talk,” I mumble to my sister as she settles in beside me.
Billie laughs and pats the spot beside her. “Come on, Quinn, I think your Uncle Jesse needs a few minutes of silence.”
“Well then, he’s living in the wrong place,” Penny teases as she sits on the other side of Tally.
“What are you trying to say?” Tally says, feigning offense.
Gail rolls her eyes as she takes the seat at the opposite head of the table. “How’s the campaign going, Walker?”
“Campaign?” Billie queries.
Tally wears a devious expression. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?”
Beneath the table I reach for her knee and squeeze. She bites her bottom lip but doesn’t look at me.
Billie looks toward me, then back to Tally. “Nope.”
“Walker is running for Daffodil King,” Penny says in explanation.
My face contorts. “I am not.”
Tally giggles. “He is.”
“I am not.”
Gail’s grin matches her daughter’s. “He is. And he’s going to win.”
“Only if he starts actually campaigning,” Penny declares.
“I am campaigning.”
Tally snorts beside me.
“What is a daffodil king, Uncle Jesse?” Quinn tilts his head, trying to follow the conversation.
A grumble works its way up my throat. “It’s the grand marshal of the parade.”
“Which is lovingly referred to as the Daffodil King,” Penny says.
I glare at Tally. “You never told me that.”
She shrugs but doesn’t try to hide the grin spreading across her face.
“Do you have a daffodil queen?” Quinn asks.
“Yeah, Jesse, do you?” Billie teases.
I ignore the question and take a bite of food.
