Clyde huffs. “I’m not going to the damn market. Not ever. And you know what I’m going to do with my free time?”
“Clean the goat pens? Milk the goats? Check on the beehives? Make the cheeses?” Bobby asks lightly, but it’s a dig. Clyde won’t officially give the farm over to any of us but he’s stopped doing much of anything here, except drinking and bitching. Clyde gave the reins over to my dad a couple years ago but now that my dad is unable to handle full-time farm work, Clyde thinks selling it is a better option than holding onto it until Daisy and I graduate and can take over.
“I’m gonna go to that realtor in town to see if that client she had is still interested in buying,” Clyde announces and storms back in the house.
He stomps off around the porch to the back of the house where the extension with his self-contained apartment is located. This summer a real estate agent came by and told Clyde she had a buyer looking for farmland in the area and was willing to pay a decent price. Clyde didn’t say yes, but told her he would keep it in mind, and he’s been threatening us with it ever since. Now, I turn to my dad with worried eyes. He shakes his head. “Ignore him Mags. He’s just mad you’re working with Georgie Boy.”
“Yeah,” Uncle Bobby agrees with an easy smile. “Besides, the realtor works at the same agency as Tanya Adler, so Clyde won’t step foot in there and likely won’t sell through them either. Especially since I told him Tanya would make money off the sale.”
“He believed that? It’s not Mrs. Adler’s client or her agency, so she won’t,” I say, and Bobby’s grin deepens.
“Let’s not explain that to your grandpa, okay?”
Daisy laughs. I want to laugh too, but I’m scared it will make my head pound harder. Ugh. I am never drinking again. Despite their reassurances, I let my eyes sweep wistfully over the property.
I grew up in the large, white, clapboard farmhouse. My chubby toddler hand prints are pressed into the concrete steps that lead up to the porch on Clyde’s side. Daisy got her first set of stitches after wiping out on her bike in the driveway when she was eight. I helped build the cheese barn that sits across the drive on the only hill on our land when we shifted to goats. I spent hours as a pre-teen in the towering sugar maple down by the road when I wanted to escape my family, reading or daydreaming. I may not own this land, but Iamthis land. I do not want to lose it.
“I keep forgetting how this feud works,” Bobby jokes with his standard, lazy lopsided smirk on his face. “Are we the Capulets or the Monahans?”
“It’s Montagues,” I correct with a smile. “And who knows?”
“I was never the scholarly one in school, that was your uncle Ben,” Bobby replies about his twin brother. “Anyway, I for one am proud of you two putting aside the differences for the benefit of the business.”
“Thank you,” I say and he winks at me. As much as my grandfather is a disappointment, my uncles are quintessentially perfect. They’re twins, a year younger than my dad, and are disarmingly charming, hardworking, fun-loving guys. They’ve been nothing but supportive of Daisy and me since birth. Even though they don’t want to continue farming and have a successful construction business, they fully supported our idea two years ago to shift the farm’s main income from dairy to goats and bees. We had to present it to Clyde like it was their idea, and my dad’s since everyone knew he wouldn’t take the idea of two high school girls seriously.
“But I have to say, I’m shocked the Adlers agreed to this,” Dad says as Bobby disappears around to the other side of the house. He’s taking Blair and Jo to the pasture where the other cashmere goats are, like Tutti and Natalie. We name all our goats after old TV and movie characters. Everyone gets to name some, and those were named by my mom. “Old George hates Clyde with the same amount of venom.”
“Like I said, the police said either we shared or they took the booth away from both of us,” I lie easily.
The screen door on the porch swings open again and Mom comes out with a picnic basket in her hand. Her dark hair is swept up in a messy top knot. she’s wearing zero makeup, as usual, and just like always my dad’s face lights up when he sees her. I will never grow tired of seeing how Billy Todd looks at Violet Hill Todd.
“Packed you all a lunch,” she says with a smile as she hands Daisy the basket. “I’m hoping you’ll be so busy selling you won’t have time to find your own.”
“Thanks Mom. Let’s hope you’re right,” I say and she smiles and then the smile grows softer as her eyes shift to my dad. “Put a thermos of coffee in there too. I saw you yawning earlier.”
“You’re a dream, Vi. Thanks!” Dad kisses her cheek before walking off toward the cheese barn. I try not to stare as he goes. It hurts my heart to see him move so slowly and so uneasily.
Mom pauses in front of me and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and gently cups my face. “Have a good day, lovebug. Don’t let your dad over do it. And don’t let the Adlers annoy you, or him. I know they’ll try.”
“I won’t Mom,” I say.
“I think we’re ready to fly!” My uncle Ben calls out coming out of our regular barn tugging a squeaky dolly which has two tabletop cooler display cases on it.
“Shh! No yelling today. Please,” I beg and press my fingertips to my temples.
“Are you…hungover?” Mom asks, and I know the answer will make her upset. She’s always been worried we’ll turn into drunks like Clyde. We’ve been getting speeches about how alcoholism is hereditary since we were ten.
“Yeah, she already let an Adler get to her,” Daisy adds, unhelpfully. She means the beer pong but I think of the kiss. “Tate challenged her to beer pong last night.”
“Beer what?” Mom is horrified. Great.
“It’s fine. I‘m fine,” I promise. “And I won’t be doing that again.”
“I hope not because you’re underage young lady and the police may look the other way on a tussle between two old grumpy men, but they’ll have no problem charging you with underage drinking,” Ben reminds me.
“He’s right Maggie. And I don’t want you two drinking at all, whether you’re legal or not,” Mom says. “I know that’s not a realistic dream but I have it anyway.”
I hug her. “I’m sorry.”
