Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
LIAM
T ime has a certain inevitability about it.
Christmastime doubly so.
Excitement builds and there are so many events to attend, then they happen and then they’re over.
Every year.
I’m sitting on the porch a few days later, bundled up in my winter coat under a big blanket, drinking coffee.
It’s too cold to be out here, but I can’t seem to quiet my mind inside.
In a few days, we’ll have our last big event. The Christmas Eve Candlelight Walk.
After that, we’ll wind down for the season.
We’ll celebrate Christmas, we’ll exchange gifts, then we’ll close the doors for the last time.
And then I’ll go home. Back to reality.
Leaving should make me happy. Four weeks ago, leaving would’ve.
Today? Today it doesn’t make me happy at all.
The door opens, and my dad sits down next to me, also in his coat, also holding a cup of coffee. Our morning ritual .
I’m surprised to realize I’ll actually miss it.
“You’re up early,” he says.
I draw in a breath of cold air, feeling it all the way into my lungs. “Yeah.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I shake my head.
“Me neither.”
We sit for a few minutes, watching as the world wakes up around us. The soft, blue, morning hue is only interrupted by the dim light from the Christmas tree in the window and the white twinkle lights strung along the edges of the house.
“You and Olive . . .?” Dad asks.
I smile at the thought of her. “All good.”
He nods. “And after you go back?”
I take a drink, the coffee’s warmth replacing the chill.
I shrug.
Another nod. “Be a shame to let her go.”
I want to be annoyed by the comment. He’s stating the obvious, after all. But I can’t be, because I think this is just his way of telling me he likes her. That she’s good for me. Maybe if I’d learned to read the subtext of what he says a little sooner, our entire relationship would be different.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say, because some things can’t remain unsaid.
“Uh-oh,” he says. “That can’t be good.”
I smirk at him.
A bit of silence passes.
“I’m sorry too.” I keep my gaze on the trees in front of us, watching as the light from the morning sun finally, finally hits them. “I could’ve maybe been a little more, you know—communicative.”
He lets out a single, hearty laugh and claps a hand on my arm. “The apple doesn’t fall far.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I take another drink. It’s strange talking to him like this, but I think I could get used to it. “I think I expected you to ask me what I wanted. But I never told you how I felt. That there were other things I wanted to pursue. Instead, I just . . . got mad.”
“You were a kid,” he says.
“Still,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
He presses his lips together, thinking, the way I’ve seen him do so many times before. “It’s okay, son.” He angles his face in my direction. “Everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”
Did it?
I’m not so sure.
A rush of cold air whips across the porch. We should go in—it’s too cold to sit out here, watching the morning wake up, but I don’t move.
“Do you regret it?” I ask, turning the mug around in my hands.
He glances at me. “Regret what?”
“This—” I motion out in front of us, all the acres of beautiful trees, a whole life built one long, hard, sweaty day at a time. “The farm. The work. Not going after the thing you wanted.”
He sucks in a long, slow breath, then shakes his head. “Not for a second.” He props his boots up on the porch railing and leans back slightly in the chair. “How can I regret this?”
He doesn’t have to explain for me to know what he’s talking about. This—the land, the work, the farm, the peace, the joy—that’s not a thing to regret.
“I feel like I contributed something valuable to the world, to this community, and to my family,” he says. “And this isn’t a bad way to spend a life.” He glances over. “Your generation is in such a hurry. Everyone is in such a rush. Don’t you know that when you die, your inbox is still going to be full?”
I smile. I hadn’t thought about it that way .
“When you get a few more years under your belt, you might see a shift in what you think is important.”
I already feel that shift. Everything I thought I wanted—even idolized—feels less important now than it used to. The things I used to resent have more value than I thought.
And then, as if he’s read my mind, he says, “You never go wrong if you pursue peace, Liam. Peace will never take you down the wrong road.”
Peace .
“I haven’t had that in a long time,” I say quietly.
He nods. “About time you found some, isn’t it?”
I hold up my coffee mug to him and he does the same. We nod, and drink at the same time, then laugh a little to ourselves.
“Well, I’ve got to meet Travis and his buyer.” Dad stands. “Do you want to come?”
“Sure.”
“One more thing, kid,” he says. “If you haven’t already, tell that girl how you feel. I know we’re not great with flowery words, but straightforward ones will do the trick. Worked on your mom.” He starts for the door.
“It’s pretty new,” I say. “A little early for proclamations.”
He barks out a laugh. “New. Like it hasn’t been since you were kids.”
“That obvious, huh?” I follow him into the kitchen and watch as he rinses out his mug.
“You’ve been pining after that girl since you were too young for it to be appropriate,” he says, chuckling.
The feelings I feel now started when we were young—time has only made them more intense.
Am I actually going to walk away from the woman I’ve loved my entire life?
I grab a hat and gloves and follow Dad out to his truck. We drive down to the main barn, and I take a moment to appreciate the comfortable silence between us. There’s no tension in the air anymore.
It’s nice.
“Have you talked to Lacey any more about her ideas?” I ask as we pull into a parking spot in the staff lot.
He shakes his head. “She knows we need to find out what the deal is with this buyer. I know she’s still looking for investors too. The plan she came up with is a good one, but finding people willing to invest will be a challenge on a short timeline. If she had another year, no doubt she could do it.” He looks at me. “But she’s going to be in over her head. She needs someone to shoulder the physical responsibilities of this place, someone to take ownership of it. A co-owner is different than an employee.”
I know he’s not implying that I’m that person, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking it.
Lacey and I have different strengths. Together, along with our employees and Olive, we could make a go of this place. Maybe even tackle the expansion in phases and find ways to bring in money year-round.
If that happened, I couldn’t keep my job at Arcadia, but I wouldn’t have to give up game design all together. I could work on Whirlybirds exactly the way Olive said I should—on my own.
My thoughts are interrupted when Travis’s Escalade pulls through the gate. We get out of the truck and start walking toward them as he parks. Travis hops out and stands in the parking lot as another man gets out and joins him. He’s got dark, slicked back hair, and he’s dressed in a suit and shoes that are completely inappropriate for walking around the farm. His coat looks expensive but not warm, and I just stand for a second and shake my head.
Pretty sure I can judge this book by its cover.
It’s clear that this guy does not belong here any more than I belong in an opera .
Dad sighs. “This should be fun.”
I can tell by his body language that Travis is in sales mode. He turns toward us as we reach them, and plasters on that fake smile. “Morning, Fishers,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “How are we this morning?”
“Oh, can’t complain,” my dad says.
Travis motions toward the man. “This is Warner Sharpe.”
My dad extends a hand, and Warner Sharpe shakes it. “Brant Fisher.” He looks at me. “This is my son, Liam.”
I shake the man’s hand, and he barely looks at me. “Quite the business you’ve got here,” he says. “You could be doing so much more with this land.”
Travis clears his throat. “Uh, Mr. Sharpe, let’s show you around the property.”
They start off toward the shop, and Dad glowers in my direction.
“We don’t have to be the tour guide,” I say, voice low.
“Would you mind showing us around?” Travis calls out, as if on cue. “Show us the best parts of the property.”
Warner Sharpe has his phone out, and as he taps around on the screen, I glare at Travis. “You want us to do your job for you?”
He laughs awkwardly. “Of course not. I just think you have a better sense of what someone might be interested in if they were to,” he lowers his voice, “you know, fork over the money to buy this place.”
I take a few steps toward Warner. “Depends on what that person was interested in doing with the property.”
Warner slides his phone into his pocket. “I’m interested in developing the land.”
“So, get rid of everything that’s here,” I say.
“It’s the land that’s worth the price, not what’s on it,” he counters.
“Not to us. ”
Travis’s laugh is nervous.
“I get it. You have memories connected to this place,” Warner says, looking at me, then at my dad. “I understand the emotional attachment.”
I doubt it.
“But my gift is taking places like this and having them actually make money. Turn a profit. Make an impact on the community around it.”
I can feel my dad bristle at that last comment.
“It’s as simple as that,” he continues. “Yeah, it’s a little farther out of the way than I thought, but close enough to the city that people looking for some peace and quiet would make the drive on a long weekend or for a week away.”
“Vacation homes,” Dad says.
“Residential. Investment properties. Long and short term rentals.” He turns in a circle. “We already saw the lake at the back end of the property, huge selling point. People love a water view with boating and fishing.” He nods. “We could do a lot with a plot of land this big.”
“But you’ll have to bulldoze everything that’s here,” Dad says.
He looks at my dad like it’s obvious. “Well, yeah. No sense in keeping something that only operates a minimum of three months out of the year.”
My dad tenses. “There could be ways to expand to make it more of a year-round destination.” I know where Dad’s going with this, and I want to tell him not to bother.
This isn’t the guy to partner with Lacey on her ideas, no matter how deep his pockets are.
“We’re counting on it,” Warner says. “But we think our plan is a better option.”
“So, the employees?—”
“Wouldn’t need them,” Warner cuts in.
“And the trees?— ”
“We’d keep some of them for privacy, but most of those would go too.” He looks at Travis. “Do you have those plans?”
“In the car,” he says. “Maybe we could go up to the office and look them over.”
Dad inhales. “Fine.” He turns and walks toward the truck, and before I follow him, Travis shoots me a look as if I’m going to have any control over how my dad reacts to this.
Warner scoffs. “What’s his deal?”
I turn and face him. “His deal is that you’ve just insulted his entire life’s work. You’ve just told him to his face that this place he’s spent years building has no value to you.”
“You’ve seen the books, right?” he asks, as if this whole conversation is a waste of time and, therefore, money. “I’m sure you agree that this tree farm —” I note the disdain in his voice— “is a long way from a successful business. That’s just a fact.”
“There’s a lot more than money that makes a business successful,” I say.
He laughs. “Not where I come from.”
“Well, that sucks for you then.” I give him a once-over.
Another scoff. “Either sell it to me or stay underwater. Your choice. But I guarantee no one else is going to come around with an offer like mine.”
Just then, everything comes into focus.
I take a step toward him. “I feel sorry for you.”
He looks me up and down. “Yeah, I don’t need your pity.”
“Actually, you kind of do.” I fold my arms and tilt my head at him. “See, you’ll never understand the value of watching the sun cast a light over the ridge onto the trees in the morning. You would hate how quiet it is out here or the fact that some nights, it’s so clear, you can see every single star. How last month, all my parents had to do to see the northern lights was to walk out the back door. You’ll never get how special it is that thousands of people start their holiday season right here, and most of them come back year after year because they like what this place does for their family. People crave what Pine Creek gives them. Tradition. Togetherness. Peace.”
Peace.
And there it is.
All this time, Olive was trying to get me to see this place through her eyes.
And it took seeing this place through the eyes of someone who just doesn’t get it.
I see her vision for all the things we could do here.
I see why Lacey won’t let it go. I see what my parents have worked so hard for.
I understand now.
I see the peace.