Chapter 9 #2
“Small world, isn’t it?” Jody said and whipped a stack of papers around and handed Tripp a pen.
“Sign on all the yellow highlighted lines. Walter has been the foreman, or supervisor as he likes to be called, at Audrey’s for years.
He worked for her great-grandfather and then for Frank until he died.
He’s talking about retiring, but he’s threatened to do that so long that no one believes him.
He’ll probably drop dead out in the cornfield one of these days.
He’s been down in Florida visiting one of his sisters for the past couple of weeks, but I believe he came home yesterday.
I haven’t seen him yet to see how his vacation went,” Jody explained.
Tripp signed every one of the papers and turned them back around to Jody. “Is that all?”
“No,” Knox said with a straight face. “You have to raise your right hand and stand on your head.”
Tripp shot him a dirty look and took out his checkbook. “Do you need to verify that my check is good?”
“If you don’t mind. That’s a lot of money,” Jody answered.
“Go ahead,” Tripp said. “If I need to tell them it’s okay, just hand me the phone.”
In less than five minutes, the brothers were finished and headed toward Brodie’s truck. Brodie patted Tripp on the shoulder and said, “Congratulations. An antique barn now owns you.”
“Hey, that was my line when you signed the papers for the farm, and I was right,” Knox said. “You don’t own that farm. It owns you and all your time.”
“Yep, and we are a match made in heaven,” Brodie laughed. “Now, let’s go take that list that’s in your pocket to the lumberyard.”
Knox rubbed his hands together as he got into the back seat. “I can’t wait to get started. Joe Clay said I can move his saws and other equipment on-site, and he also offered to help us. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s got spring fever or if he wants some time away from Bernie.”
“I understand he remodeled the Paradise, so I bet he’ll be really good help,” Tripp said.
“Changing the subject here,” Knox said, “but what are we going to do about our trucks? I like mine so well that as soon as the insurance money comes in, I’m going to take it to a body shop.”
“Me, too,” Brodie agreed, and then let his thoughts wander to the third dream he had had about Audrey.
In that one they were both older folks with gray sprinkled through their hair and crow’s feet around their eyes.
The picture was still in his mind when Tripp started the playlist on his phone.
Alan Jackson was singing, “Livin’ on Love.
” Brodie kept time to the fiddle music by tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel.
“What are you thinking about?” Tripp asked.
“Why?” Brodie asked.
“You’ve got a weird look on your face,” he answered.
“I was wondering if any of us would ever find a love that could really walk through fire without blinking like the song says toward the end,” Brodie answered.
“Not with Bernie around with her never-ending supply of women to set us up with,” Knox chuckled.
The next song that played was “Bigger Houses” by Dan and Shay.
Every word in it seemed to be thrown right at Brodie and made him think of his mother.
The lyrics were basically what she had preached to him all his life.
“We live in a big, fancy house,” she had said, “but happiness isn’t this house.
It’s what’s in our hearts, so strive to fill every day with joy, not with material things. ”
Yes, ma’am, and thanks for the reminder, he thought as he parked in front of the lumberyard. “If y’all don’t need me, I’ll just hold down the fort here in the truck until y’all get through, and then we’ll go have banana splits at the Dairy Queen to celebrate buying a barn.”
“We won’t be long,” Knox said. “We just basically give them the list and ask them when they can deliver the first load. We’ll start on the roof tomorrow.”
Brodie leaned his head back and closed his eyes and listened to Luke Combs singing, “Beer Never Broke My Heart.”
“Amen!” he agreed with the words. “But I’ve got a feeling Audrey Tucker would not only break a heart. She would throw it down on the ground and stomp it to mush with her boots.”
He was singing along when someone tapped on the window right by his ear. Startled, he jumped and paused the playlist. His eyes widened so much that they hurt when he saw Hettie standing there with Audrey and a tall, lanky man right behind her. He hit the button to roll down the window.
“Miz Hettie,” he said with a nod.
She set her narrow mouth in a firm line and narrowed her eyes at him. “You haven’t fixed Audrey’s fence yet, and I can smell that pig, so you need to get rid of it.”
“Who built the fence?” Brodie asked.
“Ira did, but—”
“No buts, ma’am. I bought the land, so the fence is mine, and I don’t care if it all falls down. If you or Audrey touch it, then you’ll be damaging my property,” he said in a respectable tone.
The elderly man behind her chuckled. “I told you that was Ira’s fence and one foot over on your side belonged to him, too.”
Hettie whipped around and shook her fist at the man. “Walter, this is not your fight.”
“You’re right,” Walter grinned. “But there’s no way you can win this battle, so let these boys alone.”
Hettie whipped around and stormed toward the lumberyard. “Men! Ain’t a dozen in the whole state that’s worth the poison to kill ’em.”
Brodie’s heart pounded, and he couldn’t have wiped the grin off his face if he’d sucked on a green persimmon. He not only owned the fence but a foot on the other side of it. That might prove to be an ace in the hole when he and Audrey had their next big fight.
Audrey gave him a dirty look and followed Hettie across the parking lot.
“I’m Walter,” the guy said. “Hettie refuses to kick the bucket until the two farms are back together that her brothers divided. The way you and Audrey are looking at each other, I think there’s something between y’all.”
“You do know that I’m an organic farmer?” Brodie asked. “And Audrey hates me.”
“So was Ira, and son, hate is just a line in the dirt with love on the other side,” he said, and then turned around and headed toward the store.
“That sounds like something Mother would say,” Brodie whispered, “but the line in the dirt between me and Audrey is as deep as the Grand Canyon.”
He hit the button to start the playlist and laughed out loud when he heard the Pistol Annies singing “Hell on Heels.”
“I wonder if Miranda Lambert knew Audrey Tucker,” he muttered.