Chapter 5 #2
“Well, let's celebrate that.” Emily flagged down a server.
She ordered a pitcher of the local pale ale for the table, and the server disappeared toward the bar. Abby settled back in her seat, studying me with that same patient expression I remembered from childhood.
“So what made you want to come back? I mean, Seattle to Alder Creek is a pretty big jump.”
The question hung in the air between us, friendly but genuine. I traced a pattern on the weathered picnic table, choosing my words carefully.
“Walt offered me the farm. The timing was right.”
Emily tilted her head, studying me with those sharp blue eyes. “But you're a graphic designer, aren't you? Not exactly a natural progression to farming.”
“I needed a change.” The admission slipped out before I could stop it. “Fresh start. New chapter. All those clichés people say when their life implodes.”
Abby's expression softened with understanding. “Breakup?”
“Three-year relationship that ended badly.” I managed a wry smile. “Well, not badly badly. Nobody cheated or screamed. It was just… over.”
The server returned with a pitcher and three glasses, setting them down with a cheerful clink. Emily poured, the amber liquid catching the string lights overhead.
“To fresh starts.” She raised her glass.
We clinked glasses, and I took a long sip. The beer was crisp and hoppy, exactly what I needed.
“So you packed up and became a farmer?” Abby's tone was gentle, curious rather than judgmental.
“I mean...” I laughed, the sound a little breathless. “When Walt called and offered me the farm, I just... said yes? It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. “Seemed?”
“Okay, maybe not good exactly.” I traced a pattern on the condensation of my glass. “More like... why not? I spent every summer here as a kid. Those were some of my best memories. And I liked who I was here.”
I took another sip of beer, letting the cold liquid ease some of the tightness still lingering in my chest.
“What about work?” Emily leaned forward, genuine curiosity in her eyes. “Can you do graphic design remotely from here?”
“I quit.” The words came out flat, matter-of-fact. “Handed in my notice the same day I told Walt yes.”
Abby's eyes widened. “Just like that?”
“Well, it wasn't exactly a loss.” I shrugged. “I'd moved into this corporate position last year. Better pay, fancier title, soul-crushing boredom.”
“Let me guess.” Emily leaned back, arms crossed. “Endless meetings about meetings?”
“Presentations about presentations.” I groaned at the memory. “And the absolute joy of sitting three desks away from my ex.”
“Oh no.” Abby winced. “You worked at the same company?”
“Worse. I worked there because of him.” I took another sip of beer, the bitterness matching my tone. “He got me the job. Said it was a better opportunity than what I had.”
“What were you doing before?” Abby asked.
“Marketing for a local music festival.” The memory surfaced, unexpectedly warm. “It was fun. Chaotic and creative and exactly what I loved. But the pay was...”
“Not great?” Emily guessed.
“Terrible.” I laughed, but it felt hollow. “Aaron said I was wasting my talent. That I should be somewhere more stable, more professional.”
The words tasted wrong in my mouth. Aaron's words, not mine. How many times had I heard that? Think about the future, Rosie.
“And now?” Abby's voice was gentle.
I looked down at my dress—bright yellow, unapologetically cheerful. The kind of thing I'd stopped wearing because it was too much. Because Aaron preferred me in neutrals, in things that blended.
“Now I'm covered in chicken poop and arguing with goats.” I met their eyes, surprised by the smile tugging at my mouth. “And I'm wearing whatever I want.”
Emily raised her glass, eyes bright with something that looked like approval. “I love that for you.”
“To wearing whatever you want,” Abby added, lifting her own glass.
I clinked mine against theirs, warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the beer.
“So what's the plan?” Abby set her glass down, leaning forward with interest. “For the farm, I mean.”
The warmth evaporated.
“The plan.” I let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-groan. “Right now? Keep everything alive. That's pretty much it.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Emily refilled our glasses from the pitcher.
“Walt made it look so easy.” I picked at the edge of the wooden table, finding a rough splinter to focus on. “Every summer, everything just... worked. The chickens laid eggs, the goats behaved, the irrigation did its thing.”
And I collected eggs and helped at the market and thought I understood how it all fit together.
“How long has Walt been gone?” Abby asked.
“A week.” Just one week of breaking things, panicking, fixing them badly, panicking more. “He walked me through everything before he left, but—”
Emily snorted. “Walt's run that farm for forty years. You can't expect to remember it all.”
“I know. I just...” I took a breath. “I don't want to call him.”
Both of them looked at me, surprised.
“Why not?” Abby's brow furrowed. “I'm sure he'd want to help.”
“Because he's finally found someone.” Something warm settled in my chest as I said it. “Barbara. They've been video chatting for months, and he's smitten. Like, schoolboy-crush smitten.”
Emily's expression softened. “That's sweet.”
“It is sweet.” I smiled, soft and genuine. “He deserves this. After all those years alone on the farm, he finally gets a chance at something good. I'm not going to ruin it by calling him every five minutes because I can't figure it out.”
Abby reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. “I can't really help with the farm part since I know exactly nothing about goats and chickens. But if you need to talk anything out, or just need a break from the chaos, we'll be here. “
“Thanks.” I squeezed her hand back. “That means a lot.”
And it did. More than I could articulate without getting embarrassing about it.
This was what I needed. Not someone to fix everything or tell me I was doing it all wrong. Just... people who cared enough to show up. To sit with me on a Tuesday evening and remind me I wasn't completely alone in this mess.
“Okay.” Emily clapped her hands together, breaking the moment before it could get too heavy. “Important question. Do we want nachos? Because I'm starving.”
“Yes. Absolutely yes.” I straightened, feeling lighter than I had in hours. “I could eat an entire mountain of nachos right now.”
Emily flagged down the server again while Abby launched into a story about getting lost while hiking last week because Evan insisted he knew a shortcut.
I let the conversation wash over me—the easy banter, the shared laughter, the way they included me without making it feel like charity. This wasn't pity. This was friendship, simple and uncomplicated.
Emily's laugh rang out across the patio as Abby did an impression of Evan. I found myself laughing, too, genuine and unguarded.
I didn't need to have all the answers right now. I just needed to keep showing up. Keep trying.
And maybe, just maybe, stop picking fights with grumpy vets who were probably just as tired and overwhelmed as I was.
Tomorrow I'd worry about goats and irrigation and chickens with missing feathers.
Tonight, I was exactly where I needed to be.