Chapter 9
Carli
When I play footsie, I play to win.
~ Unknown
“It's been three days since my interview,” I practically whine to McKenna through the phone. “Three. Long. Silent. Days.” I’m on a drive into town and she’s enduring my mental spiral while curled up in her cottage on the Lawson property.
“Bureaucracy, sweetie,” McKenna says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the government is slow. Even local county government. No. Especially that. Someone’s cow gets stuck in the mud? Meetings are cancelled and everyone leaves their desks to go pull poor old Clarabelle out of the muck.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the hold up.” I pull into the lot of Waterford Hay & Feed. “At this point, I just want an answer. The not knowing is driving me batty.”
“What are you doing tonight?” McKenna asks.
“Dinner with the family. Why?”
“Let’s hang out after dinner.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I don’t know if I’ll be the best company.”
“You’re my favorite kind of company,” McKenna says.
“Thanks. You’re mine too.”
The feed store sits on a property between downtown and our ranches.
Trucks outnumber cars nine to one in the parking lot.
The distinct sweet-tangy alfalfa scent hits me as soon as I walk through the sliding glass doors.
A good number of the customers are trudging down the aisles in boots, having come straight from our farms to the store.
The clunk of heels on concrete fills the store and echoes off the rafters.
I fill my basket with things we need with farrowing coming up: heat-lamp bulbs, colostrum replacer, new gloves and a few emergency bags of lactation feed. At the back of the store, I approach Audra, the store manager.
“Hey, Carli!” Audra says. Eyeing my basket she says, “Farrowing season?”
“Nearly.”
“Any word on the inspector job?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“You’ll be a shoo-in,” she assures me.
I wish I were so sure. “I’m here about the feed order my brother called in last week.”
“Let me check.” Audra steps behind the counter reserved for bulk delivery orders and toggles a mouse, bringing her computer to life. “Yep. Gotcha here for ten tons of lactation feed.”
“Okay. Great. I don’t want to be short.”
“We’ve got you covered.”
We say goodbye and I head up to the front of the store to check out, stopping four times to chat with people I know on my way to the registers. Each of them mentions the inspector position—each saying they’re sure I’ll get it. And each time, I feel less and less certain they’re right.
I step out of the store into the cool late-winter air. My jaw flexes and my heart pounds like I just jogged through the store instead of making my way out by way of neighborly pit stops.
By the time I pull out of the lot, I’m on autopilot, heading to Moss & Maple.
Daisy’s at the front counter of the bookshop when I walk in the front door of the old craftsman.
“Carli! What brings you in here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
She steps around the counter. “Everything okay?”
“That obvious?” I ask.
She smiles softly.
“I’m okay. Just on pins and needles waiting to hear about the job.”
She pulls me in for a quick hug. “They’d be crazy not to hire you.”
“So everyone says.” I sigh. My chest is tight in a way that won’t loosen even when I take a deep breath. “I think I need a good book to escape into until I hear back from them one way or the other.”
Daisy perks up the way she always does when books are mentioned.
“I’ve got just the thing.”
I follow her through the store and she hands me a new release. I pay for the book and then I drive back home.
I keep my phone with me all afternoon while I’m topping feed and checking water, glancing at message notifications regularly to make sure I didn’t accidentally turn off the ringer. I glance at emails a few dozen times. Still nothing.
Before the sun sets, I take Lark out for a ride.
She’s full of energy and I let her loose on a back pasture, slackening the reins enough to let her know she’s temporarily in the lead.
My hair billows behind me and I close my eyes.
My thighs lock in, squeezing Lark’s sides as we surge forward through the dry wild grass.
We run ourselves out. By the time we’re heading back to the barn, my breathing has softened and my shoulders feel lighter.
“You’re a good girl, Lark,” I tell her, pulling a peppermint candy out of my pocket, unwrapping it and tossing it on top of her feed.
Lark’s ears prick up when she hears the wrapper and she eagerly devours the sweet only moments after it lands in the bag.
I walk toward the main house slowly, hanging on to the shred of peaceful stillness I unearthed on the ride.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom says when I enter the kitchen in my socks, having shucked my boots on the porch. “Want to get the plates down for me?”
“Let me wash up first. I just took Lark out on a ride.”
“I thought I saw you heading out with her.” Mom smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I wash my hands and grab down plates. Dad and Jace file into the kitchen from the living room. Dinner is filled with a combination of subjects, but most of them rotate around the pregnant hogs and their anticipated litters.
We’re finishing up our meal when my phone rings.
“Excuse me,” I say, making eye contact with each member of my family and stepping away from the table to take the call from an unknown number.
“Carli?” a man’s voice asks.
“Yes. This is she.”
“Hi, Carli. This is Chief Hayes.”
“Hi.”
“Sorry to call you so late. It’s been a busy few days and I wanted to make sure I got a hold of you before another day passed.”
My mind swirls.
Calling is good, right?
But calling later in the day might be a consolation call—sorry you didn’t get the job.
But why would he be the one calling for that?
Wouldn’t he let someone else call to let me down?
“Carli?”
“What? Sorry.”
“I said we’d love to offer you the position.”
“You’d … Wow. Thanks. I mean. Of course. Good.” I shake my head and take a breath. “Sorry. I’m a little shell-shocked.” I bite my bottom lip. “I won’t be like this on the job. I’m just so … happy.”
He chuckles.
“I really am more professional than this.”
“I know you’re capable of professionalism, Carli.
I’m sorry we kept you waiting. Like I said, it’s been a bit busy after the storm earlier this week.
But we’re looking forward to welcoming you into the position.
Susan will be sending you an email with all the details of your start date and any other particulars we need like your physical and the results of your background check, which, of course is just a formality. We all know your background.”
“Thank you.” My voice picks up. “Seriously. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Carli. I’ll be seeing you soon. You enjoy the rest of your night. And congratulations.”
“You too. Enjoy your night. Not congratulations, of course.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll just stop talking now.”
He chuckles again. “It’s okay to be excited. This is a big deal, and as everyone around town keeps telling me wherever I go this week, you are the woman for the job.”
“Thanks,” I say, somehow managing not to babble again.
We say our goodbyes and I stand in the hallway between the kitchen and the mudroom with a smile stretching my face wide.
I squeeze my fists and pump them into the air.
“Yes!” I say quietly. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I do a little shimmy celebration dance, and then I smooth my hands down my jeans, compose myself, and walk back into the dining room.
My dad and Jace are clearing plates off the table and Mom is rinsing dishes at the sink.
“I got the job,” I say with far less enthusiasm than I feel.
I glance from Mom to Jace to Dad.
Their expressions are mirrors of neutrality.
“That’s great, sweetie,” Mom finally says. “Can you grab the butter off the table and put it in the fridge?”
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” I walk to the table. Jace is standing there, staring at me.
“What?” I ask him.
His lips are thin and his arms are crossed over his chest. “Just thinking about farrowing season.”
“Say it, Jace,” I challenge him.
“I just hope you’ll be able to pitch in while adjusting to your new job off the ranch.”
“I will. I’m not going to let anything slip. We’ve got Chet. And I’ll be here mornings, evenings and weekends. I’m not abandoning the farm.”
He nods.
Dad’s hand lands on my shoulder and he gives me a light squeeze. “Proud of you, Carli. That job’s not an easy one to land.”
I smile at Dad. “Thanks.”
Even with the praise, the kitchen feels like an echo chamber of uncertainty. None of us know what this position will mean for my availability. I’m not abandoning Buckner Farms. I’m just stepping into something that’s mine. I can do both. At least I hope I can.
After Dad’s praise, Jace says, “We’ve officially got our own code enforcer in the house. You gonna write Dad up for leaving his boots in the doorway?”
“No. But I might write you up for not having a sense of humor.”
“I’m funny,” my brother insists.
“People who are funny don’t have to take out a billboard to announce it.”
He reaches over and ruffles my hair like he used to do when we were way younger. Something tightens in my chest at the memory.
“I’m heading over to the Lawsons’,” I tell my family. “McKenna wanted to hang out after dinner.”
Mom nods and smiles. Dad walks into the living room.
Jace steps onto the porch with me. “I’m not trying to be hard on you.”
“You don’t have to try.”
“I’m proud of you too,” he says.
“But?”
“But I’m concerned about the load.”
“Don’t be. I’m not kidding. I’ll pull my weight, Jace.”
“Okay. Yeah. Well …” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Congrats, baby sister. You did good.”
I drive over the speed limit down the road between the Lawsons’ and our place. I could tell McKenna over the phone, but I want to break the news in person. I need to celebrate.
I call her anyway, just to give her a heads-up.
“Hey! I’m on my way over. Are you at your place?”