Chapter 5 - Olivia
O livia stepped onto the wrap-around porch of her two-story farmhouse. Unlocking her door, she briefly debated between a shower and dinner, but her growling stomach made the decision for her. She hadn’t eaten since the quick salad she’d devoured for lunch.
Too exhausted to cook, she snacked on raw snap peas and strawberries leftover from the market while microwaving a veggie corn dog and a chicken tamale from the frozen Trader Joe’s hoard she’d acquired in Minneapolis the week before.
After the farmers market closed, it had taken almost two hours to break down her tent, load everything into the back of her “new” 1994 Ford F-150 truck, and drop off her leftover produce at the food bank. She’d inadvertently purchased the truck as part of her five-acre farm. Still in great shape, it had been among a long list of miscellaneous possessions left behind when the previous owner’s adult children had opted to cash out on their inheritance.
Of all the miscellany she’d acquired, the truck had come in especially handy on market days.
As exhausted as she was every Saturday evening, she was grateful the market gave her a sense of purpose. She felt briefly untethered when she’d left Seattle and all of the plans she’d been making there.
In Seattle, she’d been climbing the tech industry ladder straight to Director of Sales for her company’s Home and Garden Division. Now she was trying to turn her newly acquired land into a viable, small-scale farming operation. She supposed that technically made her CEO of the Olivia Olsen Farm.
A farm CEO—touting the benefits of local produce while taking a culinary tour of Trader Joe’s frozen food offerings. She shoved some more snap peas into her mouth between bites of chicken tamale. As she was about to devour her last bite, a knock sounded on her screen door, followed by a dog whining and thumping its tail against the porch banister.
Her mom let herself in, and Ms. Darcy bounded through the door. “Hi, sweetie, how was the market?”
Ms. Darcy put her head in Olivia's lap, hoping for scratches behind her ears, and her whole body wiggled with excitement. Her “happy to see you” dance always made Olivia smile.
She obliged Ms. Darcy with pets while smiling at her mom. “Hey. It was better this week. I got three new CSA subscribers. Only twelve to go. How did Ms. Darcy do? Did she and Jackie O get along okay?”
“Oh, she was fine. You should have seen her trying to coax Jackie to chase the ball with her. Absolutely hilarious. Poor Missy. Jackie just laid there and pretended to be asleep.”
They laughed. “Well, thanks again. ”
“No worries, lovey. I’m thinking I might borrow her from you some time to hang out with my kiddos.”
“Sure. Anytime.”
When Olivia's dad got busier and busier farming their family’s land, which seemed to expand by five hundred acres every spring, her mom was able to retire early from her dental hygienist job. She'd spent thirty years cleaning people's teeth and had been ready for a change. She used the extra time to volunteer as an opportunity to spend time with her nephew Phillip’s daughter, Fiona, who attended the camp every summer. Olivia had been meaning to join her at the YMCA but kept getting swept up in farm projects.
“Are you still planning to come over for Sunday dinner?” By dinner, her mom was referring to the pot roast lunch she religiously served after church.
Her mom had given up asking her to attend services with them after Olivia returned home from her freshman year of college, ranting about the patriarchal nature of Catholicism. Still, Sunday family dinners had remained a staple of her family’s life.
“Yup. I’ll be there, and I’m bringing a lot of veggie sides, so don’t worry about those. Oh, and grab some lettuce from the fridge. I’m drowning in it.”
Her mom stood. “Okay, will do. I gotta head out. We’re having the Lindens over to play cards tonight.”
“Sounds good, Mom, I'll see you tomorrow.”
“And sweetie…” Her mom paused before walking to the fridge to grab the lettuce, chuckling as she said, “No offense, but you stink. I don’t think that hippy deodorant is working. ”
“Very funny, Mom,” Olivia replied good-naturedly. “You try being outside all day in eighty-five percent humidity without smelling a little.”
“No, honey, you don’t smell a little. You stink.” She laughed hard at her own joke before bending down, lettuce in hand, to give Olivia a kiss on the cheek. She let herself out and quietly closed the door behind her, laughing as she left.
“Love you, too, Mom,” Olivia called after her, her tone full of mock indignation.
She could still hear her mom giggling through the screen door as she got into her car.