“Well, that might have been good to know,” I huff, feeling both annoyed he didn’t tell me and relieved we’re not broke.
He laughs. “Sorry, you know I’ve always been the one to handle that kind of stuff. But you’re right, I should have mentioned it.”
I feel marginally better, but not much. Investments are great, but what about the day-to-day? “Even so, Josh…” I say, trying to sound pragmatic rather than glum, “between the four of us, we’re barely breaking even. And I don’t want William and Bethany working forty hours a week for the rest of their lives to help support us. Besides, Bethany wants to go to college next year for midwifery, and William might have plans eventually…” I trail off, shaking my head, struggling not to feel truly despondent. Why does it feel like life always comes down to money?
“Well… I have a few moneymaking schemes up my sleeve,” Josh says mysteriously, which does not actually make me feel much better.Moneymaking schemesis not a phrase to inspire confidence, especially when it comes to my husband.
“You do,” I state, unable to hide my skepticism. “And they are?”
“In process.” He grins, his eyes glinting. “I’m not keeping secrets, I promise,” he assures me, seeming so very sure of himself. “I just want to have a solid business plan up and ready before I tell you my thoughts.”
“Abusiness plan?” What on earth is my husband thinking? What kind of business plan could he possibly need?
He nods solemnly. “Yes, a business plan.”
Some squeals from outside have us both looking out the kitchen window. The two piglets are streaking through theyard, heading for the orchard, with its few scraggly apple and plum trees. William and Rose are running after them, William shouting at Jack.
“You were meant to close the gate, you idiot!”
“I amnotan idiot!” Jack bellows, then runs after William and Rose.
I turn wearily back to Josh. I’m too tired to worry about the piglets escaping or to even continue this conversation. My feet ache, and even though it’s past five in the evening, I want to take a nap. Maybe quitting Krogerisa sensible idea.
“All right, then,” I say, managing a smile. “Well, I look forward to hearing about your business plan.” I navigate around the pile of Bethany’s stuff in the middle of the kitchen and head for the bedroom. As I practically fall into bed, through the open window I hear Jack crow triumphantly.
“Got him!”
“Actually, it’s a her,” William retorts dryly.
I smile as my eyes flutter closed.
Chapter ten
Idecide I can get used to the piglets, who Rose takes on as her responsibility—their squealing and grunting and the mess they make of their pen. She feeds them food scraps and leftovers every morning after she’s dealt with the chickens, and all in all, I think it’s good for her to have a few more duties around the homestead.
I force my money worries to the back of my mind because there’s so much to do that I don’t have time to worry. I’ve planted all my seed potatoes in the greenhouse and am waiting for them to sprout. I’ve also started off some tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers, as well as a few mystery seeds from last year. I am curious to see what comes up.
A couple of days after Josh came home with the piglets, when she returned from work, I help Bethany load all her stuff into the truck and drive it over to Miss Barbara’s for her to move in. I tell myself I’m glad the pile of her stuff is finally gone from the kitchen, where she’d left it for way too long, but it feels strange to have her going. I think Bethany must have that sense too because her excitement is tempered by a little caution astogether we unload her stuff into Miss Barbara’s guest bedroom. The house is neat and tidy, some of the knick-knacks and photos gone, but otherwise exactly as it ever was, smelling faintly of lavender and patchouli, Miss Barbara’s signature scent.
Bethany looks around, slightly askance. “I know this is weird, but I wasn’t really thinking about how much it would feel like her house,” she confesses once we’ve finished unloading. “I feel like I’m some kind of interloper.”
“Well, Miss Barbara is glad to have you here,” I remind my daughter, but I feel a little sad for her as well as myself. There’s dreaming of living on your own, and then there’s the reality of an empty, quiet,lonelyhouse. “Do you need to grocery shop?” I ask practically, and Bethany goes to the fridge and opens it. It’s completely empty.
“Shoot, I didn’t think of that,” she says, and for a second she looks near tears.
I almost tell her that she doesn’t have to do this, she can come home if she wants to, but my motherly instinct tells me that won’t be the most helpful remark right now.
“How about we head to Kroger tomorrow and load you up?” I suggest. “In the meantime, you can have dinner at home and take a few supplies back with you for the morning.”
“Okay.” Her voice wavers, then she manages a smile, although she still looks uncertain. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m suddenly being lame about this.”
“You’re not being lame,” I assure her. “It’s a big step, moving out. It’s okay to have mixed feelings about it.”
She sighs, one hand still on the fridge handle. “Iwasexcited,” she says slowly. “But now it just feels weird.”
“That’s understandable.”
Bethany glances around the house, filled with Miss Barbara’s furniture. “Maybe it would be different if I was moving into anapartment or something,” she muses. “But I can’t afford that, so…” She shrugs, smiling philosophically. “I guess this is it.”
