“I learned from the best. I’ll see you tonight. Text when you’re on your way. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Emmy hung up, still smiling to herself. Her mother always did that for her. She had a way about her. And, since her mom could no longer hear her, she allowed herself one quick sigh of relief. All the shipping delays on May’s present had also gotten Emmy pretty worried about timing.Of course, May would have happily accepted a gift after her honeymoon, but Emmy knew it was important to her parents that the gift be presented at the rehearsal dinner as planned. They had contributed financially to the wedding, but that was a gift to the couple. This… this was just for May.
Emmy didn’t find work at the hotel boring by any means. She’d tried other career paths that hadn’t panned out, but so far this one suited her well enough. She was content with it. Usually. Except this particular shift dragged by. She went through most of it by rote. Check notes from managers and night audit, one early check-in at ten, four checkouts at eleven. She did what was expected of her, and when time lagged, she resisted the urge to go anywhere near social media.
Traffic that evening was the usual, but she eventually swung into the driveway of her childhood home. The door opened before she could reach it, and her mom pulled her inside.
“You have to see it! It’s all set up now.”
Emmy allowed herself to be guided to the spare room—which had been her room once upon a time. She inhaled once, quickly, at the sight of the gift, then let her breath out slowly on a sigh.
“It’s beautiful, Ma.Honto¯ni.”
The antique vanity gleamed with fresh polish, but it still felt old. The way the grain of the wood stood out, the elegant curves of the legs, the detailed pattern of roses carved into the mirror’s frame. The brass drawer pulls showed just a touch of tarnish, which Emmy thought added charm to the overall effect. A lace runner was draped artistically over thelength of the table. It perfectly accented the delicate silver and enamel makeup brushes, compacts, and combs that were laid out on top of it.
Her mother stepped forward and pulled the stool out from under the desk.
“This is the only thing we had redone,” she said, tapping the newly upholstered cushion. “The seller recommended it.”
“It’s perfect,” Emmy said. “Absolutely perfect. I always knew you loved May more than me.”
“Your dad and I thought we hid it so well!”
Emmy laughed. “Cat’s out of the bag. It’s okay. Second best is still a silver medal, if you think about it.”
Her mother put her hands on her hips. “What makes you think you get silver? We gave that to Sarah ages ago.”
Emmy pretended to pout.
Her mom gave her arm a playful smack. “We love you both equally and you know it. When you get married, you can have all the Japanese maple trees you want. I’ll even throw in a trowel.”
Emmy’s joy dimmed a little. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
Her mother’s face fell. She apologized quietly and gently in a mixture of English and Japanese.
“Daijo¯bu, Ma. I’m happy to wait to get married rather than hook myself up to an asshole.”
“Smart girl.” The hand that had slapped her playfully a moment before now pulled Emmy in for a quick squeeze.
They stood for a moment in silence, admiring the splendor of May’s gift, until Emmy heard her father’s quiet footfalls. They turned to see him standing in the doorway.
Like his wife, he was wearing casual clothes that he’d changed into after work. He wore a Twins cap over his salt-and-pepper hair and house slippers over white socks. He raised his eyebrows, and said in his typical quiet, deadpan way, “I was promised dinner.” Then he smiled that little smile that popped out anytime he told a joke, even when he tried his hardest to maintain a poker face, and held his arms out. Emmy went to him and let him hug her close.
“Let’s eat,” she said, her head still resting against her father’s shoulder.
They shared a homecooked meal of steak, rice, and salad. The conversation centered around the wedding, naturally. There wasn’t going to be much else to talk about until it was well over.
Emmy helped her parents clean up after dinner, then said her goodbyes. She didn’t bother telling them that she planned to check on their garden before she left; they knew.
She called it her parents’ garden, but Emmy knew it was hers. She’d done everything from planting seeds, to pruning and deadheading, to setting up a decorative fence around the perimeter. She’d also slipped a single gnome in among the perennials. It had been a joke at first, but then May had bought a cheerful, porcelain lucky cat to be the gnome’s friend. Then, not wanting to feel left out, her father had added a scarecrow he’d picked up from a craft fair. The decorations should have clashed, but they looked deliberate, fun, and… homey, Emmy decided, brushing some stray dirt off the cat’s head.
Yes, it had once been a bare patch of dirt. She didn’t blame her parents for letting it go. They both worked full-time, and neither one had any particular interest in plants.Why had she decided to take it over? She couldn’t quite remember now. Fourteen years old, still getting used to high school, still trying to figure herself out. Maybe hearing her parents’ perfunctory discussions about repurposing the space over the years had gotten to her. All she remembered was that, one day, she’d simply looked at the bare ground and decided it was going to be hers.
It started with her typing “How to garden” in the search bar of the secondhand laptop she kept on her desk.
She took notes on everything from planting schedules to pruning, common gardening mistakes to recommended soil brands. One YouTube tutorial taught her how to tell the difference between plants that had been over-watered versus under-watered. Another, run by a native Minnesotan, taught her all about what soils and pesticides to avoid in order to protect the local, lake-based ecosystem. The more she researched, the more determined she became. She started a list of plants she wanted to try growing, what supplies she needed, and how much everything would cost. Her parents gave her a weekly allowance, and she had plenty saved up. It relieved her to learn that dirt was, well, cheap. As were most seeds. It cost a little bit of money to mail a soil sample to NDSU for analysis, but she considered it an investment.
