I remember the Bloomington farmers’ markets well—there are food trucks and live music, and loads of local farmers come to sell everything from fruit and veg to vibrant fresh flowers.
“You should do a drive-in movie night!” Bailey erupts suddenly. “Or maybe not a drive-in—it would be more sociable if people got out of their cars and sat in the barn or under the stars. You could sell tickets.”
Jonas laughs and looks at me from across the table. “And we could have your corn maze, Wren, get everyone there from far and wide.”
“I still think that’s a brilliant idea,” I mutter, because I know he’s teasing me.
“What’s this?” Anders asks.
“The field between our land and theirs,” Jonas explains. “When I told Wren we lost it to hail damage, she suggested we cut out amaize maze. Get people to pick Wetherill pumpkins before coming to our place for some good ole country fun.”
Anders doesn’t laugh along with his brother.
Bailey slaps the table. “Ilovethat idea!”
“What? No!” Jonas waves her away dismissively.
“Why not?” Anders asks him.
“Are you kidding?” Jonas replies with astonishment. “Can you imagine Pa going for it?”
“Pa’s not here,” Anders says evenly. “I say it’s time you grab that farm by the balls and make what you want of it.”
22
The next morning, Bailey and I drive south out of the city, park the car, and hike to a disused quarry to go swimming. I’m on edge at the sight of the trespassing warning signs, but there’s no stopping my sister the whirlwind.
“I used to hike out to Rooftop Quarry all the time with my friends when I was younger,” she murmurs, lying on her back in the water with her eyes closed to the piercing sunlight. “It’s been partially filled in now because people used to cliff dive and it was dangerous, but it was beautiful. It provided the stone for the Empire State Building, actually.”
“Sounds blissful. Meanwhile, I was walking in the gray drizzle to the Kingfisher Leisure Centre in Sudbury.”
I’m treading water, looking all around at the sheer limestone walls that cut straight into the clear emerald-green water. Leafy trees line the edges and a few scraggly bushes cling to the stone.
“Were you sad to leave America?” Bailey asks out of the blue.
I hesitate before replying honestly. “I was sad generally.”
“I’m sorry. I used to live in fear of Mom and Dad splitting up.”
“They never gave you anything like that to worry about, though, right?”
“Are you kidding?” She kicks her legs down and her head pops out of the water. “They used to argue all the time!”
“Did they?”
“All the time!” she repeats, her eyes boggling at me.
“They never used to argue when I was visiting.”
“Oh, no, they were on their best behavior then,” she replies facetiously. “That was partly why I used to love you coming to stay and dreaded you leaving, because they’d make up for lost time.”
“What did they argue about?” I ask, disliking the thought of Bailey suffering.
“Anything and everything. Mom spending too much time at work; Dad making a mess around the house; Mom not being affectionate enough or inviting too many friends to stay; Dad not cooking dinner the way Mom wanted it; Mom being the main breadwinner—”
“I didn’t think Dad cared about your mum earning more than him.”
“He didn’t.Shedid.”
