The Valentine Box (The Box Books #3)

January 19

Luke

M om and I sit down to lunch in front of the big picture window overlooking the river, trying to hash out the future. We’ve got less than two weeks to decide Sweetwater’s fate.

“As I’ve told you,” she says, “I’ll be fine with whatever’s decided. Yes, I love our home, but I’m also open to a new start. And to tell you the truth, the house feels…a little too big to me without your father here. Maybe I need a smaller place.”

Neither of us have yet touched the grilled chicken salad she put together for us—I guess we’ve got other things on our minds besides eating. I blow out a sigh and pose the question that’s been weighing on me for a couple of days now. “Are you gonna be all right? Living on your own with all of us far away?”

She’s a young sixty-two, but I’m not sure what her life will be about now. For a long time, it was about caring for this big house and her family. After her sons left, it became about spending time with Dad. They’ve traveled a lot in the last ten years, and they took day trips on weekends to wineries or historic restaurants she searched out online. She likes to read and watch historical documentaries, but will that be enough? She used to have friends, but they’ve all moved away over time as Sweetwater fell deeper into decline.

I can see in her eyes now that maybe she’s starting to wonder the same thing. “To be honest, Luke, I’m not entirely sure.” Then she musters up a brave smile. “I may need to find some hobbies or do some volunteer work. This house has always kept me busy, even when we didn’t live in it and I was driving down to check on it. And I’ve enjoyed caring for it—but as I say, the appeal of that might be over.” She shakes her head then, looking forlorn. “On the other hand, it’s a beautiful life here, so I’m sure I can adjust to it alone. Or, again, adjust to something new, too.” She meets my gaze, tilting her head. “I suppose there’s a part of me that can’t imagine staying in this house and a part of me that can’t imagine leaving.” She laughs. “I’m not being much help on this, am I?”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I assure her. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“Well, I’m certain I will because I have you to help me.”

Her expression holds an almost out-of-the-ordinary affection. She’s always been a loving mom, but I fear she feels a little abandoned by her two older boys, and a little afraid of this new life she didn’t expect.

“Of course you do,” I promise her.

“I’m sorry all this got dropped on you. I know it wasn’t in your plans.”

It’s the first time she’s acknowledged that since the abrupt change of executor.

“None of this was in anyone’s plans,” I remind her. And then I recall something Taylor said the other day. I didn’t realize then how much it might apply to where I am right now. “But sometimes you just have to rise to the occasion. So I’m rising to it, and so are you.” I give Mom a smile.

She returns it. “I guess I am.” The small smile fades just as quickly as it came, though. “Even if it’s hard. Some mornings I wake up still surprised to realize I’m alone in bed, and the reality hits me all over again. I thought we’d have so many more years together.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I know.”

I still have no idea if she’ll find ways to be happy when I go back to Utah, but I definitely won’t let her feel abandoned by anyone else, that’s for sure. Starting to think about Mom’s future adds a lot more questions to the mix, but the kind that’ll only be answered as some time passes.

So for this moment, I turn back to the more immediate one—whether or not to sell the farm.

“One way of looking at the Northcutt deal,” I say, moving on, “is that maybe progress is inevitable. It’s the same old story, right? That progress can’t be stopped? If we don’t sell, who’s to say they don’t find property just a few miles down the road and it still ruins Sweetwater?”

Mom finally picks up her fork and takes a bite of her salad, and so do I. Maybe it’s easier to discuss the fate of a whole town than how much she’s misses my father. “You’re right,” she replies. “That could happen. I’m not sure I’d like living here if I glanced out the window to see a big factory right down the river. And then we’d have to worry about the horses, too.”

I narrow my gaze on her. “What do you mean?”

“Once, on one of our winery trips, your father and I drove past a big drywall plant along the river not far from Cincinnati, and a horrible white dust covered everything . Every bush and tree and blade of grass. It was just awful. I Googled about it, and I learned the company was ordered to clean it up and do better, but the lesson is that you just never know what you’re letting yourself in for when change comes.”

This has my head about to explode—I didn’t even know something like that could happen. But whether right here or somewhere up the road… “That sounds extremely sketchy, like it could cause serious health concerns.”

“It would probably never happen here, but who can say?”

I again shift my gaze out the window to this view I’ve always had but, sadly, never appreciated. “And maybe I’m wrong—maybe if we turn them down, they’ll be forced to go someplace else entirely. When Taylor was here, she fell in the love with the place. It reminded me that maybe we take it for granted, that maybe it’s worth saving. Not just for the sake of Sweetwater, but for the sake of the farm itself. Not to mention the horses.”

Across the table, Mom’s eyes light up in a way I’ve rarely seen since Dad’s passing. “Taylor sounds like a smart young woman. Tell me about her and you.”

I actually can’t believe it’s taken her this long to come at me with this. “We go back a long way,” I answer, deciding to keep it simpler than it is. “I wanted to ask her out in high school, but it didn’t work out.”

“And now?”

“Now…I like her.”

She looks unimpressed. “That’s it? You like her?”

I just laugh. “What are you looking for here, Mom? I just met her again after fifteen years. And in case you haven’t noticed, my plate’s a little full right now, so I’m not thinking much beyond the next few days.”

She lets out an acceptant sigh. “I guess that’s fair. You’ve had a lot heaped on you all at once.”

Has Taylor stayed on my mind since she came for that visit? Absolutely. Do I remember how much I wanted to kiss her but didn’t, because she suddenly looked so shy, not even making eye contact with me? For sure.

It left me thinking maybe she just wasn’t into it, that maybe all we were ever meant to be is friends. And that maybe the way I feel when I’m with her—like life is suddenly better, easier, happier—just means I’m not able to tell the difference between a girl who wants to be kissed and a girl who only wants to be my pal.

When we talked that night at the Little Dipper about the past, I thought maybe she’d be interested in something more—but I know how to take a hint. And besides, it’s not like I have time for romance while I’m here anyway.