Page 49 of A Lot Like Lavender

I pull her closer, wrapping my arm around her waist and watching as Jack and Jordan pick the perfect rocks for the girls to skip.

“I forgive you, Dinah Belle. And I’m sorry I threw a rock at you and told your secret.”

“I forgive you,” she says, then whispers, “Can I tell you another secret?”

“Always.”

“I kind of liked the placenta shot.” When I cover my mouth to keep from gagging, she cackles and shushes me. “Oh, you’re so dramatic. I mean, it's disgusting, and I never want to drink it again. Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“But,” she continues, giggling behind her hand, “it gave me an idea. All the essential oils and everything… What if you offered lavender shots here at the farm? Or, like, smoothies or something? Really showcase how lavender can be beautiful but also tasty.”

It isn’t a bad idea. Just not one I’m sure I can manage. “Where, though?”

“Open a shop.” Her excitement grows.

I think she’s probably been waiting since last night to discuss this with me. More than she wants to discuss the man I woke up with, or paint color selections, or my sudden plan to scatter James’ ashes. When Dinah has an idea she knows will be good, she’s unstoppable.

“You should be running a gift shop here, Em. One with your pet products, alpaca stuffies, and lavendertreats. I can help. I stayed up all night with Jack and thought of menu ideas and a way for me to hire more teens at Knotty & Nice so I can be here to help you.”

“I knew he seemed crabbier than usual.”

“The man is cranky if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep. I’ll make it up to him later.”

I spit my tongue out. “Ew. Gross. But… please, continue.”

She puts a hand in the air, highlighting her imaginary menu. “I see lattes. Lavender Vanilla. And lavender slushies, with wine or juice, for hot summer days. We’ll make Purple Pastures a tourist spot. A wedding destination. A…”

“Dinah—” I stop her. “I sold the farm.”

“What do you mean, you sold the farm?”

“Well… some of it.” I look at our surroundings, a riverside framed by sycamores and river birch. The high, afternoon sun peeks through their leaves. My daughter, barefoot and blissed out, splashes in the low rapids of a river we have attempted—and failed—to catch fish in a handful of times. A man, suntanned and tattooed, holds her hand while she perfects the smooth skip of a rock across the water. “I sold… this piece. Specifically.”

“Unsell it.” She crosses her arms, jutting out her hip.

“I can’t.”

Tears fill my eyes. I thought I’d come to terms with this. Worked out the details with Debbie and was grateful that Trey made a sizable offer so that I wouldn’t be declaring bankruptcy any time soon. I thought I'd be fine saying goodbye to this piece of the land today and moving on, but I suddenly hate the idea that I won’t be the one who gets to claim this river—this view—as my own. “I was going to lose the whole thing.All of it,” I confess. Finally. “I had to do something and?—”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Tell us?” Jack pops his head up, looking at Dinah and me like he’s ready to intercede again but continues on as a quiet observer, vigilant and ready to step in when needed.

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“For goodness sakes, Em. You’re my sister. You helped raise me. You fed me and got me through school. You held my hand through the hardest years of my life then helped me start a business from the ground up. You’ve been my cheerleader forever… You didn’t think I’d want to be yours?”

I can’t help but shrink. “I… Your life is so good, Dinah. I didn’t want to bring you down when mine is…”

“Your life is good, Emory Marie.” She looks around us. “And it has nothing to do with a romance with a truly beautiful boy.”

Making a face like she just ate a fly, she amends, “Ew. Not boy. That felt gross coming out of my mouth. He’s a man. A beautiful, masculine man. Muscles. Jawline.”

“Yeah, yeah. Glasses. Eight feet tall. I get it. Agreed.”

I can’t help but glance towards Jordan. He’s watching me with worried eyes, that—indeed—chiseled jaw of his tight and covered with a rough layer of stubble. I have the craziest urge to call him over. Not because he could solve my current problems or get me out of the difficult conversation with Dinah, but because I’m really starting to believe that maybe holding his hand would make all of this easier.

“Your life is good, Em, because it’s full. Of people who love you, and garbage food thatyoulove, and your alpacas, pigs in the laundry room, chickens that run amok, and yeah… PTA is kind of a bummer, but Molly is just amazeballs. And your little sister is about as incredible as they come.”