2.
FARRAH
“Let’s go over the applicants one by one,” Zoey suggested. “I know each of you has your own opinions, and I’ve got my own I’d like to discuss with you. Go ahead, Farrah.”
“Well, we have six homes completed right now and . . .”
“We’re only counting two of those, since four are already taken.”
“Four?” Moe asked.
“You can’t honestly believe that I’m going to let all of you bust your ass and not give you first dibs.”
“I’m getting one of the houses?” Moe asked.
“And so are Farrah, Fiona, and Taylor.”
“Already? I thought we’d have to apply and . . .” I glanced over and, through the tears in my eyes, I saw that the other women around the table were just as emotional.
“Yes, I want each of you to select your house - not that it’s going to be difficult since they’re basically all the same - and then move in ASAP. We’ve got more work to do, which I’m trying to juggle between getting the flowers planted and the plans for the office set, but . . .”
“What do we need to help with?” I asked.
“Shopping.”
“I’m out!” Moe said loudly.
“Specifically, shopping for furniture and necessities for each house. I’ve got new mattresses along with pillows and bedding, but if we can find gently used furniture from the storehouse, that would be great. Or if you’d rather go to garage sales and thrift stores to find more unique things to fit your style, you’re more than welcome to do that too. We’ll start an inventory of each home to list what will need to stay when you move, and that can be updated as you find things you like and want to replace what you’ve borrowed.”
“I learned woodworking in prison, and I’m obsessed with furniture restoration videos,” Fiona said cheerfully. “I am down for some garage sales.”
“That could be a good side hustle,” Zoey suggested.
“That can be something we list on the social media page,” Taylor chimed in. “Zoey approved the group I set up, so I’ll start inviting members as we all move in.”
“So, what that means is that right now we’ve got space for two people. As the weeks go by, we’ll gradually have space for more until we reach our limit, and then we’ll need to start a waiting list.”
“I can take care of that,” I offered.
“As our Intake Specialist, that will fall under your duties as well as family reunification.”
“That sounds so bougie and professional,” Fiona teased.
“Doesn’t it?” Zoey agreed. “The board came up with official titles for all of you, and you’ll be going on payroll as soon as we officially open.”
“What’s my title?” Moe asked. “Resident Badass Extraordinaire?”
“HR and Payroll Manager.”
“Not so bougie,” I muttered and got a glare from Moe.
“Fiona will be our Community Specialist, and Taylor’s title is Communication and Education Service Coordinator.”
“Why do I have the boring title?” Moe whined.
“Because I like to listen to you complain,” Zoey explained with a grin.
“Now, onto the other two residents and then we need to make some decisions about store employees for the front end, who is going to work the counter and all that other good stuff.”
I groaned but picked up the first application on the stack in front of me before I announced the name. It took more than an hour to decide which two women would move in immediately and which others would be on the waiting list for the next set of houses. It took more time than that to decide who was going to be offered jobs running the different aspects of the storefront when it opened. Other positions would need to be filled as far as the back end work and plant care was concerned.
Finally, Zoey called to close the meeting for today, and while all of us felt relief, we also felt a sense of accomplishment for what we’d gotten through so far. I knew there would be many more meetings just like this, especially when we really got up and running and the women started rotating out of their homes when they were ready for life outside the security and comfort of The Flower Patch, as everyone had started calling our growing community.
As Zoey walked out of the office, she said, “There are still a few hours of daylight, so take that time to pick out your new homes and then go over to the barn and look through what we have to start filling them. I’ve already had the guys set up the bed frames with the new mattresses. The bedding and pillows are just waiting for their new owners.”
Impetuously, I threw my arms around Zoey and gave her a big hug, trying to tell her how much I appreciated her since words seemed to have escaped me. Even if I could figure out what to say, I wouldn’t have been able to choke it out through my tears.
All of us were emotional, even though we had known we would have the opportunity to live here eventually. The thought was exciting, but the reality was so big that I could barely believe it.
For the first time in years, I was going to have a place to call my own with doors that could lock everyone out when I needed to be alone but in a community where I always had friends around when I didn’t.
“I’m so proud of you, Farrah,” Zoey whispered in my ear as she hugged me back. “Stay strong, okay?”
“I will.”
After that emotional moment, I walked with Moe, Fiona, and Taylor toward the small homes that Zoey had built by a local construction company. She and a crew of family and friends had installed the floors and done the painting, and after weeks of work, they were finally finished.
Moe pointed to the one on the far corner and said, “I want that one with the red shutters.”
“I’ll take the black,” Fiona said quickly.
Taylor looked over at me and shrugged, so I said, “I like yellow.”
“There you go. I’m in the turquoise house.”
“Serana and Ginger can duke it out over the other two,” Moe mused as she looked around.
“Zoey went to tell them, so they’ll be here any minute,” I said as I looked over my shoulder toward the high tunnels where the other women were working.
When I looked back at Moe, she asked, “How long has it been since you had your own place?”
“About sixteen years.”
“I’m right at twenty.”
“I’m afraid to walk inside,” I admitted.
“Me too,” Taylor and Fiona agreed at the same time.
“When we walk in, it becomes real,” Moe mused. “Right now, we’re still under the thumb of . . . well, everyone.”
“I feel like when I cross that threshold, I’ll be taking ownership of my future.”
“I think that’s why I’m afraid,” Taylor said quietly. “This is huge.”
“I’ve never been this excited and terrified at the same time before.”
I reached out and took Fiona’s hand just as Serana and Ginger walked up to join us. I held on as Moe told them which houses were left, and they played rock-paper-scissors to decide who got which one.
“I’m in the house with gray shutters,” Serana said cheerfully as she turned to look at her new home.
“And I’ve got brown. I guess it’s more of a cinnamon color. Maybe cocoa? It’s not just brown,” Ginger said, unable to make up her mind as usual.
I laughed at her and said, “We’re afraid.”
“The first step is admitting you have a problem,” Ginger joked.
“I feel a certain responsibility here that I’m not sure I can explain,” Moe said as she turned so she could face us.
“I feel it too. We’re the first ones that Zoey put her trust in and however this goes could make a difference in many more lives down the line.”
“That’s it!” Moe exclaimed.
“The six of us need to make a promise to each other to help hold everyone accountable and make this as seamless for Zoey as we can. She’s put her heart and soul into this, and the least we can do is the same.”
“I’m in!” Fiona said firmly as she held her hand out with her palm down.
“Me too,” Ginger said solemnly. “Let’s do this.”
“Bring it in, girls,” Moe said as she added her hand to the pile.
I put my hand on top of hers, and Serana rested hers on top of mine. Taylor put hers on the pile and grinned before she asked, “Is this where we do some sort of blood oath and start chanting?”
“We’re trying to be serious and shit, but then Taylor pops in and does her thing,” Moe muttered.
“Leave it to me! I’m always the life of the party.”
When the laughter died down, I said, “To the delicate flowers - soft and sweet but explosive when the need arises!”
“Delicate flowers!”
As the other women chimed in, I looked around at our new neighborhood.
Our home.
◆◆◆
LYNN
“You give the best Valentines, Pop,” Brinlee said as she hugged her new stuffed animal to her chest.
I had no idea what she saw in the blob I’d purchased her, but they were apparently all the rage. The stuffed animals I bought my daughters when they were young looked like actual animals. These things Brinlee loved so much looked like fluffy blobs with a hint of an animal of unknown origin.
“You really do,” Berklee said as she took her new gel pens out of their package so she could add them to the growing collection she had in her art caddy. “These are the coolest colors ever.”
“I love the picture you made for me, Berk. And, Brin, dinner was delicious. Thank you for cooking for us tonight.”
“I’m getting better at not burning the bread,” Brinlee boasted. “This time, it wasn’t bad at all.”
I glanced over at the plate that held the remnants of the garlic bread Brin had made to go with the pan of lasagna she heated up. We had been able to salvage the center of almost every piece, but the blackened crusts were a little too charred for any of our tastes.
“Dessert was yummy,” Berklee said as she spun her art caddy. “I really liked it.”
“What are you cooking tomorrow?” I asked.
“Tomorrow, it’s your turn,” Berklee reminded me. “We’ve got practice.”
I looked at the calendar on the fridge and nodded before I said, “I guess that means you need to get your stuff ready, then.”
“I’m wearing the purple leotard!” Berklee shouted as she jumped out of her chair to run to their shared closet.
“You wore the purple one last time! It’s my turn!”
“Argue about it, and nobody will wear it!” I yelled as Brinlee chased her sister down the hall. I could tell by their raised voices that they didn’t take me seriously, but my guess was that they’d work it out somehow.
Just like when Leanne and Lanna were young, I tried to let them figure things out on their own, and only waded into the fray when it got too loud or started to get violent. I was one for one on the score for how that worked out, considering one of my daughters was a well-adjusted, happy adult and the other was miserable as she tried to find her way out of the mess she’s made of her life.
As if she knew I was thinking about her, my phone rang at the same time my tablet started chiming with an incoming call. I picked it up and braced myself for what I knew was going to be a difficult conversation and then answered the video call.
“Hello, Valentine.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“How are you doing, kiddo?”
“Me? I’m livin’ the dream.”
I chuckled at my daughter’s response. It was good to see her, but as always, I worried about what I saw on her face. She was faking her cheer, and I didn’t blame her. With the guilt of what she had done, the loss of her kids, and her life in limbo, I guessed it was hard to find much to be happy about, especially since there wasn’t much of a chance of her coming home anytime soon.
“Any word from the lawyer yet?”
Leanne’s face crumbled, and I watched her choke back tears before she suddenly sat up straight and took a deep, calming breath.
In a steady voice, she replied, “I signed the papers today to accept the plea deal the DA offered.”
I knew that was best for my daughter and granddaughters, but the thought of losing her for at least fifteen years broke my heart. I cleared my throat and tried to reassure her. “I know it sucks, sweetie, but we’ll make it through.”
“The girls are safe, and that’s what matters most right now.”
“I’ll tell them after school tomorrow, so they have the weekend to deal with it. When you get to wherever they decide to send you, I'll bring them to. . .”
“No!”
“You don’t want to see them?”
“I don’t want them to be exposed to . . . I just . . .”
“I think you should talk to your counselor about it, and I’ll talk to Dr. Hamilton and see what she thinks. When you get where you’re going, we can reassess the situation. We don’t have to make any decisions right now, okay?”
“You’re right.”
“Holy shit! Go to the infirmary because there has to be something wrong with you.”
“Whatever!”
“Are you feverish? Do you have a rash? Could it be amoebic dysentery?”
Leanne burst out laughing, and it brought tears to my eyes to see a glimpse of the happy girl I remembered. Yes, her recklessness had taken a life, and she’d destroyed families, but she was still my little girl. Even at twenty-six with an addiction that had ruined her life and a mandatory fifteen years behind bars, Leanne was my daughter and always would be.
“Do you remember when Lanna was convinced she got that while we were at the lake? I haven’t thought of that in ages!”
“She still won’t go to the lake,” I remarked.
“How is she doing now that she’s decided that her mission in life is to birth three hundred children?” Leanne asked.
“She’s still baking number three and doing fine. Complaining a lot, but you know how that goes.”
“Thank you for being you, Dad,” Leanne said, her tone and expression sober again. “We’re the luckiest girls in the world to have you for a father. My daughters are just as lucky.”
“What can I say? I’m the gift that keeps on giving . . . a lot like amoebic dysentery.”
Leanne laughed again, although this time the smile didn’t reach her eyes. I knew what to do, though. I tipped my head back and yelled for my granddaughters to come join me. Leanne’s face lit up, and when the girls ran into the room, they were so excited that they could barely contain themselves. I handed the tablet to Berklee, and she held it out so Brinlee could get in the frame too. They were both smiling from ear to ear and talking over one another in their haste to wish their mom a happy Valentine’s Day and tell her about the party that they had at school.
Listening to their chatter took me back to when their mother was their age. Once again, I wondered if what I’d exposed them to when they were young had nudged her toward the alcohol addiction that she had been battling since before her daughters were born. I made a mental note to bring that up with the therapist at our session tomorrow.
But that was a future task. Right now, I had a list of tasks to take care of for tonight. The kitchen was in disarray, and I had a load of clothes in the dryer that needed to be folded for the girls to put away later and at least two loads that still needed to be done.
Considering that I still had a few hours of work to do before I started my day tomorrow, it looked like tonight was going to be a late one, and sitting here on my ass wouldn’t make that any easier.
Such was the life of a single parent, and that wasn’t anything new.