Jimmy hooks his thumbs into his belt. “All right. If you guys say so. If another thing happens, I’m going to have to dig in—you understand that, right? I can’t show favoritism just because we’re all like family.”
“No, but you’re not because none of us have done a damn thing to their farm,” I remind him. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe it, but it’s true. We’re all busy as hell running our own farm. There’s no freaking time to play childish games on theirs.
Jimmy nods once. “If you say so. Just know this is the final and only warning I’ll give. While the damage being done now is petty at best, it’s still causing them some issues.”
Harper rolls her eyes. “Where were these tough guy feelings when the Gatlin brothers spray-painted our barn?”
“There was no actual evidence they did it.”
“Just like there’s nothing saying we did anything to them,” I remind my longtime friend.
“Which is why no one is being arrested for vandalism—yet,” Jimmy says with a huff. “Look, the last thing I want to do is come here for this shit. Please, if you are doing it, I beg you, just stop.”
“If we were, we would,” Harper adds.
“Mind if I go talk to the others?” Jimmy asks.
“Have at it.”
None of my family has anything to hide. We’re all doing our best to just pretend they don’t exist.
Some are just doing it better than I am.
Chapter 4
Lark
“Hello, Lark,” Mrs. Canta says as she stops me on my way into the Daily Knead. The bakery is owned by my best friend, Suzanne, and every few days I come and get a few loaves of sourdough. Today, however, is a community food drive where I volunteered to help pack boxes to help local families who are falling on hard times.
“Hi, Mrs. Canta.” I smile at my mother’s closest friend.
“How is your mother?”
I hold back the eye roll because I’m pretty sure they spoke this morning. “She’s good.”
“I was so sorry to hear about the Stones causing trouble again,” she says with a sigh. “I do wish Ginny was still alive. She never would’ve stood for that kind of behavior from her children.”
I try not to remind her that this feud has been going on for damn near a century, and my father and Mr. Stone were doing dumb shit to each other before any of us kids were born.
In fact, I’m pretty sure my father slashed one of Tristan’s father’s tires at an auction about two years ago. While he’s never admitted it, the timing is awfully sketchy.
Instead of saying any of that, I just smile and nod. “It was so good seeing you, Mrs. C. I need to get in and get my order.”
She glances into the bakery. “Yes, Suzanne looks very busy.”
The snide comment irks me. “She’s doing a lot of good for the town by offering her bread for no charge.”
That seems to do the trick. “All right then. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will.”
I enter the store, the scent of freshly baked bread assaulting my senses. It’s like a warm hug, and I love coming in here. Her store is adorable. The wallpaper features cute drawings of different breads and pies. The counter lines the left side of the store with deep green wood paneling along the bottom and glass cases on top. There are four tables along the right side with green chairs. Everything is homey and quaint.
Suzanne has had a hard time starting her business. Most of the women in this town have been milling their own flour and baking since they were kids. However, I love my friend and am proud of her for chasing her passion, so I do what I can to support her.
“Hey!” Suzanne says as she pokes her head out of the back at the sound of the door chime.
“Hey yourself! How are you?”
