Page 3 of Falling Back to You

“Have we fucking met?” Dunking the pastry into my coffee, I popped a piece into mouth.

“It’s a good thing he’s late, because I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Edison was wringing his hands, so I knew it was a conversation he’d been dreading to broach. “It might be time to hire a few more people.”

My face crumpled as if the vents were releasing toxic gas.

Edison continued, “We’re busy. And with the new classes and increased demand, that isn’t gonna stop anytime soon.”

“I hear you, but we just hired three new people for the horticulture classes and café.”

“Yeah, and our staff is stretched thin.”

“Maybe your girlfriend could help.”

Edison rolled his eyes. “You said you were going to try.”

“I have been. When we’re in the same room, I say please and thank you. But she is kinda sitting on her ass all day.”

“She’s writing songs for her first solo album.”

Did I like Francesca Palmer? Not really. I was trying hard to find common ground, but she and I were like night and day. I’d struck out with all the Palmer offsprings. They came off as entitled and self-important. I think it was the Hollywood upbringing. The Palmers were horse trainers, with a sprawling ranch that sat atop a hill looking down on us regular folk. Our families had been close, but as with much of life, adulthood changed things. And I wasn’t interested in entertaining fake friendships.

“Just something to consider.” Edison hated conflict, so even his demands were sprinkled with phrases like “I’d greatly appreciate it” and “thank you for your consideration.” I mostly handled the finances and HR tasks while Edison was the plant expert. We made a good team.

“I’ll see what I can do. But we may have to pitch in for the time being.”

“With what hours? We’re both here all the damn time, and now we’re gonna start work on the B&B. I don’t know about you, but I need, like, six hours of sleep minimum to function.”

“Maybe we can hire some interns and pay them in lattes and experience.”

“Ain’t nobody trying to provide free labor.”

“I’ll reach out to the 4-H club. Maybe we can barter a trade.”

4-H’s local chapter leader was Ozzie, but I planned to bypass him and go through Reese, the secretary, instead. She and I went way back and, shockingly, were still on good terms. Reese was my best friend, and we were overdue for a good beer-and-gossip session. Couldn’t even remember the last time I’d gone out for fun. I’d been neglecting my friends and had some making up to do.

I was afraid the years had taken the shine off the apple. At thirty, I was a single mother with very little to show for myself. I guess that was why I was so fiercely protective of Figs and Twine. Eventually Maple would grow up and search for her place in the world outside of me. I understood she was only seven, but life comes at you fast. Two blinks ago she could fit in the crook of my arm, and now it was getting harder to carry her. The nursery was the one thing I could shape into my own, and it would never leave me, or be disappointed, or secretly think I wasn’t enough.

The clanging on the stairs let us know someone was approaching. “Happy Sunday, family,” Cyrus sang out.

“What crawled up your butt and sprouted wings?” I asked.

“Can’t a guy be happy?” He tucked his sunglasses into his polo shirt. This man had to have been adopted.

“If the guy is you, then no,” I countered.

“We were just about to count you out,” Edison said.

“I’m the one who called the meeting, so why wouldn’t I show up?”

“Who’s thirty minutes late for a meeting they called?” I huffed.

“I’m just busy.”

“That is the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” And it was his go-to explanation for why he was always absent from family functions. “We’re all busy, Cy. And it’s Sunday—we’d rather be home.”

“Well then, I’ll keep it brief. The permits were approved.”

“It took long enough,” Edison said.