El knows all about the orchard and helps me with all the legal questions I have. She reads stuff like this on a daily basis, and some of it makes no fucking sense to me. So it shouldn’t be a huge surprise that I want to stay and take over the orchard. Except, I’m the last person on earth to willingly stay in a small town, and I’ve been itching for a decent coffee all weekend. I haven’t gotten around to having one at Lina’s because I don’t want to insult hers. It’s not like all coffee here is bad, but it just isn’t as strong as I’m used to.
I’m a city girl through and through. I like being able to walk everywhere, and the fact that I can’t leave the property without a car is eventually going to get to me. It’s not like I’m suddenlygoing to learn to drive at my age, but I guess it’s something I should consider if I do stay here long term.
“But you’re staying there? Like on the farm?” she asks.
“It’s not a farm, really…”
“There are animals and trees? Didn’t you mention a barn?” she says.
“Yes.” I laugh.
“Then it’s a farm,” she decides.
“Okay, fair. But there’s a house—my aunt’s house here. It’s like three stories, and once I clean it up, it might actually be cute for an Airbnb or something,” I say.
“Are you thinking about moving up there?”
“No, I just… there are so many people who relied on my aunt. Without her here, they’d be without everything. She created this little community here, and I don’t want to disband that if I don’t have to. So I’m hoping I can fix it up a little, make a new website, and then present it to my family as a money maker. Possibly convince them to keep it instead of selling,” I explain.
“You know you don’t have to convince your family of anything. It’s up to you if you want to sell—it actually very specifically says not to sell it to them,” she reminds me.
“I know. But it’s fine. It’s easier this way,” I insist.
“Whatever you say.” She disagrees with me, but it’s one of those things we agree to disagree on. I know better when it comes to my family.
“How’s it going with Tara?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Fine.” She sighs.
“Is something going on there?” She usually has more to say about her live-in girlfriend.
“It’s nothing. I just feel like we’re in this rut. I’m sure it’s just in my head. I’m sure it’ll pass.”
I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince me or herself. I like Tara and El together, but they never seemed like something long term—just two people who feel content together.
“Shit, I gotta go! My boss is on the floor! Bye! Love you!” She hangs up quickly, and I laugh.
I go back to cleaning up, then crash out on the couch and start online shopping. I need more casual clothing, a pair of boots, sneakers I won’t mind getting dirty, and a variety of beauty tools. If I’m staying here, it makes more sense to have it delivered here. I have to check the will to make sure I have the right address.
It’s a large order, probably spending more than I should, but when do I ever look at the price tag? My credit card is already loaded into the app before I click on a second app. I need to have some of my stuff packed up and delivered, and I really don’t want to do that myself. I know a good moving company that can have my stuff up here within the week, so I schedule that as well.
After cleaning out the kitchen—including the very expired items in the fridge—I place an order for food. I don’t know where there’s a supermarket, but I don’t drive anyway. It won’t get here until the end of the week, so hopefully there’s takeout nearby that will deliver in the meantime. What restaurants does a small town have anyway? I doubt there’s a McDonald’s or Wendy’s nearby. I’m sure I could convince someone on the orchard to get me groceries earlier if I need, but I don’t want to be the new owner who comes in and asks for favors. I know everyone is wary of me, so I’m trying to take it one moment at a time.
Bracing myself, I head upstairs and take count of the bedrooms. On the second floor, I find three and an office that could always be turned into a bedroom. My aunt’s bedroom is the one at the end of the hallway, and although I could, I don’t feel ready to disturb her things. I find fresh sheets in the closetand make up my bed in the guest room at the other end of the hall.
As I’m putting the pillowcases on, I look out the window on the side wall. Outside, I see a blonde figure on a horse galloping through the fenced-in area by the red barn. I have a feeling it’s Tilly. She’s in total control. I can’t see her face from here, but I have a feeling she’s actually smiling.
I wish she and I hadn’t gotten off on the wrong foot. She probably doesn’t want to talk about our one-night stand, and she definitely doesn’t want to talk about my aunt leaving the property to me. I still don’t know the extent of their friendship, but I can tell they were close.
I have so many questions I want to ask her, but I can tell she’s not ready. Has she lived here long? Was there a romantic aspect between them? I assume not, considering the age difference, but that doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t even know my aunt was queer until I saw all the pride memorabilia in her room. Of course, now it’s too late to ask my aunt, but I hope eventually I can ask Tilly.
She has a wall up, and it’s going to take time before she trusts me. I’m sure part of it has to do with grieving my aunt, but the other parts? It’s sort of driving me crazy.
She rides the horse around the perimeter and only stops when she reaches the barn again. She hops down, pets the horse, and offers it something yellow. Probably a carrot or apple. I figure she’s going to get back to work, but instead she pauses to look around. I see her shoulders rise and fall like she’s taking deep breaths.
This must be affecting her more than she’s ready to let anyone in on.
It’s the people-pleaser in me, wishing I could get people to talk to me. If there’s any kind of issue, I always want to fix it. Ever since I was little, I’d play therapist, and people would baretheir souls to me. Then I’d do everything I could to make it better. It took me a long time to realize that most of the time, it’s none of my business. And that when I try to fix things, I sometimes make them worse.
