Chapter 6
HOW LIFE TURNED OUT
“Your mother mentioned that everything is set with the wedding planner,” his father told him at work.
“Yeah.” Clay looked up from his computer. He’d rather be out back working on his product than sitting in his office dealing with vendors.
“Everything okay?” his father asked.
He pushed back from his chair. “It is now. I can’t stand this part of the job. I’m glad I’ve got Eva to handle most of it.”
He’d hired Eva six months ago to deal with most of the ordering, billing, payroll and anything else he gave her to do administrative wise that he didn’t want to or have time to do.
He was never so happy to find the money in the budget for it.
Reenie was much better equipped to deal with the marketing and promotion and he had her take over that part.
“It helps with your mother not doing more,” his father said.
“I didn’t want her to,” he argued. “She insisted and I made her show me what she was doing.”
His mother showed him how she managed the books for the orchards so that he could decide if he wanted to continue that way.
“Your mother is wonderful at insisting.”
“Did you need me to help you with anything? I know this weekend starts hayrides and pumpkin picking.”
“I hate to as—”
“Ask me to do anything. I came back to help on the farm. I’m here,” Clay said.
“Yeah, but I work for you and this isn’t part of your business.”
He bit back the snarl. The last thing he wanted to do was get into another pissing match with his father.
They’d had enough of them when he was a kid.
The fact Clay had no intention of working the farm was the catalyst for them.
Yet look at how life turned out.
“It’s all part of the family business,” he said. “I need to get outside and check on the orchard anyway.”
He and his father managed the apples, nurturing them, then picking with other staff he’d hired for the fall.
Once the trees were picked clean, he’d go back to having all his apples shipped in.
“If that is the case, the tractor is giving me fits. I want to make sure it’s running well for the hayrides,” his father said.
“Let’s check it out. We’re going to need it anyway to haul the apples soon.”
Clay left his office, he and his father going out the back through the production floor. No one called him over for anything, telling him they had it covered.
He climbed into his father’s beat-up old truck that never left the property. It wasn’t even registered or had plates on it. Just a work truck that was needed to move around.
It roared to life when his father started it. The damn muffler fell off not that long ago, but he kept his lips sealed. He’d buy something else soon so that they could give this thing a proper burial. Should have been put to pasture over a decade ago.
They got to the barn behind the house and climbed out, went to the tractor and his father started it up. It coughed and sputtered, but together they got it running smoothly an hour later.
“Thanks,” his father said. “You hated doing this as a kid.”
He hated doing a lot of shit on this farm as a kid, but they all had their part to do.
Now he looked forward to waking up and seeing the sunrise over the mountains. No gunfire or sirens for him to run and take cover, strap on a gun, or gear to have meticulously cleaned and stored.
He still kept his gear clean though. Some things were hard to break away from.
“Yeah, well, we all grow up and change. It’s not such a terrible life.”
“You just had to do it your way,” his father said.
“Be honest, Dad, it’s not so bad, is it? Not worrying about a poor crop or the revenue not stretching as long as you wanted? Being short staffed and working eighty hours a week?”
“It’s all on you now,” his father said. “I didn’t want that either.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. His father talked for years about Clay taking over the farm. None of his other siblings were interested.
Neither was Clay, but as the oldest, he felt it was going to be forced on him.
His only way out of it was the service in his mind. His parents would always respect that choice in a career and he wanted to make the man in front of him proud.
It was the only way to do it.
Now he was trying to do it another way without tweaking too many egos.
“I’m young and strong. It’s not the same. I know it was hard for you to let it go.”
“Change is never easy,” his father said. “But in this case, our lives are easier. I want that for your mom. She’s a strong woman that has been through a lot. Working this place, raising you five kids.”
“Putting up with you,” he said, squinting at his father.
“Just like looking in the mirror with the two of us here.”
He laughed. Just a short one. The sound was foreign to him, but he was slowly coming around.
“Might be why she can handle me so well,” he said.
“She’s worried about you, Clay.”
He sighed. “There isn’t anything to be worried about.”
“You’ve been home now almost two years. Not that we don’t love it, but are you ever going to talk about what brought you home?”
“You,” he said. “You got hurt. There was no way we were letting Mom do it all and I was the only one that could walk away from my career.”
His father turned to look out over the mountains. “No one wanted you or any of your siblings to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I didn’t offer. I just did it.”
As the oldest, he had to.
That was his story and he was sticking to it.
“Are you happy you did? Because that is all a parent wants.”
“I’m happy to be home,” he said. “I might not show it.”
“You’re not unhappy,” his father said. “We know that. But you’re... different.”
“So are you. You’ve mellowed out. Normally a conversation like this would have us shouting.”
“The wisdom of age,” his father said, snorting.
“There you go. Do you need help doing anything else? I want to check out the trees in the back. I can’t wait to pick them soon.”
His father had expanded the crop behind the house on their property four years ago, then three years some more. When Clay returned, he doubled what his father had planted because he had his vision and was determined to see it through.
“They look good,” his father said. “Do you plan on doing a special batch with just farm-picked apples here?”
He looked at his father’s hopeful glance.
Funny how he hadn’t mentioned this to anyone and it was something he’d come up with just recently.
“Actually,” he said. “I thought of it myself. A new design on the can, limited edition. I need to make it different from my base.”
“You can have it ready in a month? Or will this be longer?”
“I’m going to have it on the shelves in six weeks,” he said. “Toward late October, but hopefully sooner.”
“Try cinnamon or pumpkin. The fall flavors.”
“I was thinking cinnamon and a ginger one. Two of them. Then cranberry around the holidays. The ginger will take me into that also. Possibly big bottles rather than cans. Like wine bottle size.”
“I like that idea,” his father said. “The cranberry one in a bottle around the holidays could be a big hit.”
“A new flavor and product doing that.”
He was ready to take more risks. So far everything else was working for him.
“You should talk to your wedding planner about it. She might have some good ideas with designs for bottles to offer as part of the packages there.”
He hadn’t thought of that. Was surprised his father had.
Or maybe he was just so close-minded about his father’s train of thought because they always argued.
“I’ll do that,” he said.
“Don’t sound so pained about it,” his father said, slapping him on the back. “You’re doing a good thing here. I know I don’t say that to you often. That I even gave you a hard time about eliminating the picking for the public.”
“It’s hard to let go of everything you’ve always known,” he said. Clay turned away and walked back to the truck. He had shit to do and it’d get his father off his back with the man-to-man talk.
His father sighed but climbed in the truck with him. “I’ll let you off back at the mill. I’ve got things to do unless you need me there.”
“Nope, I’m good. Do what you need to.” Clay pulled his phone out and made a note to email Meredith about his father’s idea. He’d have to take the steps and getting inventory here and designs if he did it.
It’d be easier for him to talk about that than all that other shit he had collected for weddings. She was on her own. He just didn’t need those details and would make sure she was aware of it.