10. Sawyer #2
“Oh no, it’s just Kevin and me.” I take a bite of my chicken, not liking her answer.
“So you do everything around here? You don’t have a farmhand or anything?” A farm this size would be a full-time job.
“Yeah, it’s just us. It isn’t too bad. I prefer it.
I like to see what the plants are doing each day, and if I had someone else here, it may interrupt the quality.
Everything here is organic. I don’t use sprays or fertilizers unless it’s organic compost. I wouldn’t want to have to worry about anyone following the rules.
” She takes a drink of water, stopping herself from saying anything else.
I’m sure I saw somewhere that their soap is organic, but I had no concept of what that really means from a farming perspective.
Clearly there’s a higher workload, given the increased quality control.
She doesn’t take the easy route, that’s for sure.
“What do you do when you go away or are sick?”
She looks at me like I have two heads.
“Um… well, I don’t go away, and when I’m sick, I just work through it,” she says like it’s the most normal thing to work yourself to the bone and then keep on working.
“And you work at the school too?”
“Yes, they were so kind in offering me a teaching support position a little while ago. I work in a variety of classrooms and with a variety of subjects. Wherever they need me, really. It’s great, because one day I might be assisting in art class, and another, I’m helping kids to read. I like the variety.”
“So where do you find the time for soapmaking?” I wonder how she fits it all in.
“At night, mostly. Sometimes on the weekends. It just depends on what's going on and what the stock levels are like.”
I sit back as a renewed sense of admiration fills me. I’m a workaholic. I constantly have my head in my phone or eyes on files. It’s obviously something we have in common.
“Enough about me. Tell me, how are you feeling about Whispers now that you have seen our beloved juniors win the baseball game this morning?” She grins, and it's contagious.
“Well, these first few weeks have been… interesting,” I tell her honestly.
“I’m surprised you’re spending the weekend here. I thought you’d be back in the city already.” She laughs, and I join her. She’s beautiful every time I see her, but here, at her table, relaxed like this, she’s glowing.
“I was planning to be, but Tanner wanted me to spend the weekend here. Get to know the locals, support the kids’ baseball team, and let people see me around town."
“Probably a good idea. I mean, if you want people to trust you, they need to see you. That’s the thing about small towns, as soon as someone new turns up, they’re the latest obsession.”
“It’s nice to meet new people, like this morning, but I was happy just talking with you.”
Our eyes connect, before mine flit lower and settle on her lips. The soft pink is almost taunting me.
“May I be excused?” Kevin pushes out his chair abruptly, the sound bringing Annabelle and me back to the present. His plate might as well be licked clean, his stomach obviously full, and he clearly doesn’t want to sit and speak with the adults.
“Sure, honey.” Annabelle’s voice carries so much affection, it’s disarming. Kevin quickly goes back to the TV, switching the game on and becoming engrossed immediately.
“Sorry, we don’t usually have people over for dinner. He’s probably a bit unsure of things.”
I shake my head and wave it off. “It’s fine. Not much stands between me and baseball either.”
“Oh, well, you’re welcome to sit with Kevin and watch the game,” she offers, like she’s prohibiting me from doing what I really want to do. But what I really want to do is sit and talk with her.
“I’m fine right here. I’ll choose you over baseball any day of the week.
” And it’s the truth. I don’t even know what I’m doing, other than realizing how good it feels to talk with someone, enjoy a nice meal, a quiet home, and a bit of flirting.
Away from the crowded bars in the city, the loud music, and hustle and bustle of people at the clubs I used to go to.
I’m not lying, I would choose her and this over that, no question.
Her gaze is full of trepidation, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink, before she asks, “So, you have a brother?”
I nod. “I do. He lives in LA.”
“I’ve never been, but the weather looks great there. Do you get to see him much?” Her blue eyes twinkle a little in the overhead lights, her shoulders relaxed.
“Not really. We try. Maybe a few times a year. He works in the movie business, so he’s always traveling.”
Those pretty eyes widen. “Oh, wow. I guess you do need to live in LA for a job like that.”
“His name is Sutton. Sutton Silvers.” I wait to see the look of recognition.
Sutton has been a movie star for a few years now, so people screaming his name and asking for autographs is constant whenever I'm with him. I’m not sure how he copes with it all.
It’s one of the most common questions I get when I’m dating in the city.
The women I meet generally already know who I am and who my brother is.
“That's a nice name.” It hits me that she has no idea who he is.
“He’s pretty well known…” I still get nothing from her, other than slight confusion in her gaze. “He has a big social media following actually, and I said I might send him some of your soaps, you know, so he can promote them to his followers, maybe give Gertie’s a bit of promotion?”
I see her head working at that, her eyebrows lifting.
“Um… okay. Wow. I mean, any support would be great. We’re trying to expand our distribution, as you know, but Victoria handles all that.
I just make them." She acts like what she does is no big deal, when it’s actually the biggest part of any business.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Diminish yourself. You’re talented. You work hard.
There would be no Gertie’s without you. There would be none of this without you.
” I gesture to the food and the house. My mom used to do that.
Still does sometimes. She carried the weight of everything but never wanted kudos.
Annabelle needs to know that she’s amazing.
“I guess I just see it as a little hobby. I want it to grow, of course. I enjoy making the soaps and it’s nice to work with Victoria and Tanner. But I don’t always understand the business side of things, so I guess I just keep my influence small…”
“I’m here now. I’ll help you with anything I can. I’ll explain the contracts if you need me to. I’ll send the soap to my brother. Who knows, the girls might love seeing his naked body lathered in soap so much, they’ll buy you out.” My joke brings another smile to her face.
I admire her, a woman who’s clearly a hard worker and fantastic mom, a woman who’s not swayed by big names or money, a woman who underestimates her skills and her place in the world. She’s a complete contrast to anyone I’ve ever met before. In New York, everyone is out for something.
“Tanner mentioned that you might have a box of soaps here I could send him?”
“Probably something I should’ve offered to you on your last visit after the cow manure…” She looks both like she’s about to laugh and cringe, and I chuckle.
“Not sure one box would’ve been enough.” My smile is wide with the memory of that day, and her laugh finally escapes. I watch, mesmerized, as her face lights up, her smile widening and her head falling back, and I’m glad I’m sitting down because she’s so stunning I’d otherwise be knocked on my ass.
Gathering myself before she notices my staring, I ask, “Have you always lived out here?” I now want to know everything about her.
She stands, starting to clear the table of our dishes, and I follow her lead to help. I notice that besides from the TV, it’s eerily quiet. No streetlights on, no cars driving past. Aside from the occasional bellow of an animal, it’s silent.
“All my life. This farm belonged to my parents and my grandparents before them.”
“So it’s a generational thing?” I’m intrigued, her being all the way out here now making more sense. The history of the place is something that captures my interest. Family is important to her. If I didn’t pick up that fact by the way she’s close with her boys, I see it coming through now.
“Yes, although, I farm it a little differently than they did. My parents and grandparents mainly had cattle and other animals. I’m trying to cultivate the land and the rich soil to produce the best lavender and roses I can.
Obviously, I still have some cows and chickens…
” she looks at me with that cheeky smile, clearly alluding to the cow shit again, “…but they are more for consumption than profit.”
She lives off the land, I can see that. Her vegetable patch is huge, probably the size of a backyard swimming pool.
I know Kevin milks cows, since that’s how Tanner knows him so well.
No doubt the chickens outside provide the eggs, so she would be reasonably self-reliant out here.
An easy environment to become isolated, if you’re not careful.
Seeing her resilience and entrepreneurial spirit coming out, I’m starting to learn that this woman has many layers, and each one I peel back intrigues me more than the last.
We stand in the kitchen, and I look around, not seeing a dishwasher in sight.
In fact, she doesn’t have a lot of modern appliances.
The TV looks decades’ old, the sofas and rugs tattered and worn, no microwave or toaster.
It needs a renovation, and while I can’t see the rest of the house beyond the living room, the outside is enough to tell me that it would probably blow over in a small breeze.
I watch her concentrating on what she’s doing at the sink, and she bites her lower lip as she scrubs a dish.
I need to swallow the growl that feels like it might escape, suddenly wanting to be the one biting that lip.