I’m tired.
Tired of traveling. Tired of living out of a suitcase. Tired of pining for a handsome flower farmer who deserves an explanation for my absence.
I can count on one hand the text messages he sent me. Granted, he was honest and told me from the beginning how he wasn’t very good at typing on his tiny phone. I was usually the instigator, texting or calling. But when he did surprise me with a message, it was easy to read between the lines. Simple really.
He missed me.
And I miss him.
But then everything went haywire after my promotion. Word got out about my big save at Global, and I was suddenly in high demand. It felt good to finally be enthusiastically welcomed by my male counterparts. It felt good to be making top dollar in my field of expertise. My job took off like a rocket and took over my life. I’d caved to the accolades and money.
And I’m disgusted with myself.
“Are you okay?” Bev asks.
I sigh again and stare out the window at the moody Chicago skyline in the distance. “I’m tired. And to be perfectly honest, I’m lonely,” I admit. “Are you sure you can’t hop on the next plane and join me?”
“Girl… I wish I could. But school has already started.”
“Darn.”
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“What happened to the autistic farmer and his grandfather? Do you still keep in touch with them? Is he running the farm by himself now? Sorry. That’s more like a boatload of questions, isn’t it?”
I shake my head, knowing George would’ve texted me if Ralph took a turn for the worse. “Mr. Jamison hasn’t passed away.”
“That’s good. And his grandson?”
“He’s still at the farm.”
At least I hope he’s still there. But where else would he be?
“Good to know.”
We’re silent for a beat.
“For what it’s worth, Maddy, I think you’re tired and lonely because you made a huge mistake.”
I scowl. “What?”
“You made a mistake not leaving your job when you had the chance.”
“Beverly…”
“As your sister, hear me out, okay? I mean, look at you right now. You’re alone in a hotel room in a big city full of strangers. You’ve got no one but me to talk to, and that’s not even inperson but over the phone. What happened to the ‘soft life’ you were so excited about, huh? I thought you were going to make some changes and finally live? I thought you really liked Heartsboro and the handsome flower farmer?”
I rub my temple with my free hand and close my eyes. “George.”
“Huh?”
“His name is George. And I know what I said. I just need to see these contracts through, and then I promise I’ll make some changes. I have to.”
“Yeah, you do,” Bev scolds.
“Hey, did I tell you Mom’s show is here in Chicago?”
