Page 55 of The Burbs and the Bees
“Good,” she says, injecting a little enthusiasm into her voice.
“Tyler said Bryce was by to see you.”
She frowns and picks at a piece of hay stuck to her jeans. “He made me an offer.”
“Heard it was low.”
She laughs and throws her hands up. “Of course you did.”
“Have you considered a counteroffer?”
She exhales and looks out the passenger-side window. “I’ve considered lot of things.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“I guess,” she says.
“Do you still have a place in New York, or did you give it up when you came here?”
“I have a condo.” Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “My parents pay for it,” she says, like she assumed that was my next question. But the fact that she kept her place as a safety net says a lot, and we both know it. Relief, and something that resembles disappointment, weaves its way through my veins.
“Tell me about my uncle,” she says, redirecting the conversation.
“Well, he mainly kept to himself.”
“No girlfriend or wife or anything?”
“He hung out with Carol Moser for years, but she passed away a while back. He had us, though.”
Her sweet smile wraps around me and squeezes my lungs. “That’s nice but different than having a partner, you know.”
“I know.”
Longing fills her gaze. “Must have been lonely on this big old farm by himself.”
And that right there, my friends, is the first sign that she’s beginning to crack, the early glamour of farm life beginning to wear off. I know that look all too well. I tap my thumb on the steering wheel and pull into her driveway. “I suppose, yeah.”
“Do you…get lonely?”
I laugh but only to hide the truth. “I take care of my mother, brothers, and farm animals, remember?”
“Yeah, I know, but…”
Her words trail off as she reaches for her handle and opens her door. Off in the distance, a coyote howls.
She casts me a worried glance. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I turn my truck off. “We need to get the animals inside.”
We head to the orchard and start rounding up the animals. “Have you ever thought about dancing professionally?” I ask her as I lead Freddie into the barn, and she follows with Barack.
“I thought about doing a lot of things professionally,” she says with a laugh.
“What is it you want to do?” I ask.
We get the animals inside and find Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner already in the barn. I snatch the cowbell from a dusty shelf.
“That’s just it.” She shrugs, and my heart squeezes at the sheer defeat on her face, the spark of determination in her eyes dulling. “I’m not really sure. I’ve tried lots of things but can’t seem to stick to anything.”
