Lacey

EDMUND, THE HANDYMAN, ARRIVED just after nine. He was an older guy: tall, lean, bald, and friendly. “Mornin’,” he told me as he unloaded his truck with his ladders and paintbrushes.

“Hey,” I smiled easily, “another scorcher.” I said.

“Oh, this?” he looked up to the sky, “the weather here is so crazy you just never know what it’ll be like. I like the heat.”

“I guess it’s less stifling than New York,” I led him inside and he set up in the small hallway.

“Yes, Ma’am. I imagine the hustle and bustle of the big city adds to the heat.” He sighed and started to pull dust sheets from a box he’d brought in. “So, every room?” he grinned.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I bought the paint, all neutral.”

“Right, I’ll get started.”

The small cottage wasn’t big enough for the both of us and since I’d had the WiFi installed I really needed to get on with some work. I still had private clients and I couldn’t afford not to be on my A game when it came to potential investments. I deserved a break, I kept telling myself, but I worried that if I took one, then I’d have nothing left to go back to. I shut myself in the small kitchen at first and opened the back door to let some fresh air in and tried to read through my emails. Just then my cell lit up, and it was Bryan. I groaned. I had been dodging his calls, the guy had royally pissed me off, and I just wanted to be left alone.

I answered as otherwise he’d just keep trying.

“What?” I answered harshly.

“Lacey,” he sounded relieved, “why are you not responding to my messages?”

“What is it, Bryan?”

“Have you left the city and your job?”

“That’s none of your business,” I spat out.

“Lacey,” he soothed, his tone low and coaxing, “I’m sorry, okay? We need to talk, communicate. I thought we ended things alright?”

“That was until you knocked up your secretary on the night we broke up,” I said harshly, trying not to yell and surprised by the hurt that still spread throughout my chest.

“God,” he sighed, “that was not planned, and you can’t tell me that you’ve been celibate since we broke up.”

“Bryan, we have no ties, nothing, so why are we talking? Get a lawyer and have a nice life.”

“I still care about you, Lace. I still love you and miss you and...” his voice faltered, “where in the hell are you?”

“Bryan, that’s none of your business.” My voice broke a little, and I hoped he didn’t hear, “you have everything you wanted now, all the things I wouldn’t give you.”

“You chose this, Lacey. You chose this break up, and I made a mistake...” he left off in a defeated sigh.

“Bryan, we can’t be friends, okay? I left Peterson and Tyson. You can get whatever you need from the apartment. I’ll be away a few weeks. Let the lawyers organize the divorce and go be a daddy.”

“Lacey...” he began to speak but I couldn’t hear anymore.

“I chose this, Bryan, you’re right and so you should do everything you can to make this work with her,” I was finally calm and void of emotion. “Please don’t call me again or I’ll have no choice but to change my number.” I hung up on him and refused to cry.

I had chosen the break up. I had known that we couldn’t make it work and have a family the way things were. He wanted babies, and I was unable to do that working fifty-hour weeks. He’d found solace in his secretary and her ovaries had clearly been ripe and ready because now she was four months along in a pregnancy that despite the tough choices I had made, broke my heart. Bryan may have been the best guy I’d ever meet and already he was bound to someone else forever.

“Lacey.” I looked up to see Mabel at the back door holding a wicker basket covered over with a dishcloth.

“Oh. Hi, Mabel,” I recovered myself and stood up.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah,” I smiled easily, “Just an ex-husband who is struggling with the 'ex' part.”

“Right,” she nodded, “my daughter is divorced. Eric and I flew out to help her move to a lovely new apartment.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hope she’s doing okay.”

“Sure is,” Mabel nodded, “sometimes fresh beginnings bring fresh hope and a new zest for life.”

“Come in,” I told her, “I’ll get you some ice tea.”

“Thank you.”

Mabel sat at the table and placed the basket on the only spare area of the small, round Formica thing that was not covered in paperwork. “You sure are busy,” she smiled at me as I poured her a glass of ice tea from the pitcher I’d made the day before.

“Yeah,” I blew out a breath, “I need to keep on top of things whilst I’m out here.”

“Well, I made bread and jam tarts,” she grinned, “so I brought some over.”

“Wow, you are an amazing baker,” I told her, “I would have no idea where to start making bread.”

“Oh my momma was excellent in the kitchen and she taught me everything she knew. Keeps me busy these days since we don’t eat together as a team as much as we used to.” She added.

“You used to eat a lot together?”

“Sure. Always dinner after a hard day’s work, but when Theo Miller died, I guess that tradition did too,” she shrugged.

“That’s a shame,” I said, sipping my tea.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “Alex has had it rough these past few years, losing his grandpa and his momma taking a turn for the worse and then that sister,” she chuckled, “he’s got his hands full. No man his age should have to shoulder all that alone, but he does a great job.”

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend who can help?” I asked, hoping my question didn’t come off like I was interested in him.

“There was a girl,” Mabel pursed her lips with a smile, “he had the same girl all through high school but around the same time as Emmie-Lou lost the farm she did something that must have been real bad as he didn’t want to talk about it and she stopped coming around. Since then... no one.” She shrugged, “and he deserves all the happiness in the world that one.”

“I see he’s a great guy,” I agreed; despite his frostiness to me it was obvious he was well liked.

She nodded to the basket and pulled back the dishcloth, “Eat,” she encouraged. “He’s a great man.” She told me, “loyal, hard-working, loves his family and this land.” She nodded. “I can’t bear the thought of it being taken away.”

“I’m not taking anything away,” I assured her, “just hoping to make things work better. That’s all.”

“Well you buying this place and hiring everyone has helped Emmie-Lou get the help she needs with medical insurance and so for that we are all grateful.”

I nodded, “And will she be well again? In your opinion can she be helped?” I asked honestly. It had no correlation on the good work they all did but I genuinely wanted to know.

“By the grace of God she will find the cause of her demons and right those,” she grabbed a jam tart and started to eat it. “I fear that she’ll never be at peace, but I always have hope.”

I narrowed my eyes a little and began to eat the tart she’d put in front of me, “I hope so too.” I told her.

 

I managed to fit a good few hours of work in after Mabel left and the tart was the only thing I’d eaten all day so my stomach started to protest. I didn’t get to see Alex again and rake over the figures, which he was probably glad about, but I did manage to do some research about other farms in the wider area. Many had branched out to farm shops, bakeries and other tourist shops. It made me think as I’d eaten Mabel’s tart that perhaps there was a market for that at Bishops Hill. We grew plenty of wheat and exported it far and wide which made a good solid buck but maybe rather than exporting it we could make our own flour on a small scale and use that in a bakery.

It was only an initial thought but a credible one. Also, I looked into some exciting new machinery that was run by GPS and didn’t need to be manned one hundred percent of the time. It was interesting and in the long term would save money, but I doubted Alex would like it. The way he made the workforce sound was like they were family, all been around years and the thought of reducing labor was not ideal. However, the likes of Eric and Mabel would soon be retired and how many more? Was there even a market for permanent farmhands these days? Who knew?

Ed left mid-afternoon. I’d made him various drinks, and he really enjoyed my ice tea which made me happy. My mom had taught me how to make it and she said it was a family recipe, like it took much skill. He had done a really good job of the living room. It was now a neutral gray color and the lick of paint really brought the place to life. He told me he’d see me tomorrow, and I waved him off. Tomorrow he’d do the bedroom. 

I decided to workout and then grab some dinner from the stuff I had bought at the local store over the weekend. Firstly I changed into some workout three-quarter leggings and a loose top with my sports bra, then I loaded the DVD into my laptop. I loved this DVD it was badass, and the workouts were sweaty but over in thirty minutes. I set it up out back as the day was drawing in and although it wasn’t as cool as I’d like it was cooler than inside.

I started the workout and listened intently to the commands, “Harder, faster, come on!” It was an old DVD but perfect for me. I loved boxing, and I never got to go to a gym, exercise DVDs were the closest I got. I punched, huffed, puffed and groaned, then dropped to the floor between sets for the mandatory press ups and planks. I jumped around and lunged. It was awesome to feel my muscles work, and I was glad that I was working my booty nice and hard.

When I finished I collapsed into a heap on the floor and breathed deeply, “Hey.” I heard from behind me just as I lay there flat out like a lunatic who had just run a marathon. Looking up I saw Sara was hovering over me, “was that a tough workout?” I saw the smile at the corner of her mouth and I smiled back.

“Sure was.” I moved to sit up and placed my arms on top of my knees. “I needed it. Mabel came over before with jam tarts.”

“She did?” Sara looked delighted, “they’re my favorite.”

“Knock yourself out, the kitchen is full of them, and bread.” I groaned, “as if I don’t miss bread enough.”

“You don’t eat bread?” Sara asked. I stood and followed her to the back door.

“I try not to,” I told her, “I sit at a desk all day every day and what I eat goes straight to my ass.”

“You have a great body,” Sara shrugged.

“Yeah, I have to be careful what I eat though, my mom is like a hundred and eighty pounds.”

Sara shrugged, “Is that big?” she narrowed her eyes, “my mom is tiny, but Alex says she thrives off stress and runs at a higher charge than the rest of us.”

“My mom is home all day and watches my nephew now, so maybe he’ll make her more active.” I sighed, “I think she was smaller when she was my age.”

“You don’t need to worry, guys like curves but not what I’ve got,” she looked down at her body. She wore shorts and an over-sized t-shirt. I could see she was slim but not whether there was anything under there.

“You know,” I walked inside the house and grabbed the plate of tarts, “I think in reality guys see something they like but it’s all about getting on great, you know?”

“Like friends first?” she asked. I sat down on the back step and she sat next to me.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But looking good, that should be for yourself.” I passed her the plate of tarts and she took one.

“How do you know what looks good and what makeup to wear?” she asked. I bumped her lightly with my shoulder.

“Well at fourteen, I was clueless so give yourself a break. Then I learned what suited me and the older I got the better stuff I could afford. Now I have no time for shopping or reading magazines to figure out what my makeup should look like, so I pay a personal shopper and see her once a month.”

“Wow,” she popped open her blue eyes and smiled. “That sounds super fun.”

“It’s good and when I need makeup help I just go to the counter at Bloomingdale's and ask them to show me stuff,” I shrugged, “you’ll get there one day.”

“I hope so. No way am I’m staying round here like Alex,” she sighed, “I’m moving far away, and I’ll never live on a farm.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yeah?” I watched as she reached for a second tart.

“Yeah,” she nodded defiantly, “I’m gonna get an amazing job that doesn’t involve sweating and I’m going to marry a super smart, sexy man and I’m going to have two kids.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” I smirked.

“I just wish I could look more like you, like my hair and makeup,” she shrugged, “there is this guy ...” she stopped there, and her face colored a little.

“There is?” I asked, pursing my lips in a grin. “Has he asked you out?”

“Sort of,” she hugged her legs to herself, her knees jutting under her chin, “but Alex would go crazy and I have nothing to wear if he does take me out.”

“Well I guess you should speak to Alex about it but is this boy from school?”

“Yeah,” she sighed dreamily, “Connor,” she grinned and my stomach flip-flopped at the memories of feeling that way, “he asked if we could get ice cream after school.”

“Well if you want me to do your makeup, I can, and I have jeans and stuff you can borrow,” I offered with a grin.

“Really?” she asked excitedly.

“Sure,” I nodded and grinned, “and I could do your hair with curls like mine.”

“Wow, thank you, Lacey,” she leaned in and hugged me.

“Oh sorry I’m stinky,” I laughed.

“It’s fine,” she leaned forward and grabbed another tart, “we didn’t eat yet, Alex was late home and he and Logan went out to buy something.”

“Doesn’t Alex cook?”  I asked.

“He can but we never have anything in. My mom used to cook and do the shopping and somehow he can’t get that organized. If I drove, I’d shop but I don’t.” She shrugged.

“Do you miss your mom?” I asked in a low voice, not wanting to intrude but also intrigued into this family that seemed to have an anchor missing.

“Did you meet my mom?” she asked with a huge smile. I couldn’t decide if it was proud or jovial.

“I did when I bought the place. It was a fleeting visit, just one day, and she showed me around,” I told her.

“My mom is crazy. She loves hard, plays hard, falls hard and although she’s a mom, she’s also like a kid,” she laughed and threw her head back. “I miss her, but the house is a lot calmer without her. When I see my friend’s moms sometimes I feel like I missed out on having a mom.”

“Oh, Sara.” I placed my arm around her and hugged her to me despite my sweatiness. “All families are so different and dysfunctional in their own ways, at least you have your big brother to look out for you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “but I guess we get on his nerves and he’s always yelling. He never listens to my point of view, just believes what everyone else says about me.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her earnestly. “You know if it’s any consolation being a teenager is hell and when you become an adult, you realize that all the shitty things that seem like life is ending are really just the things that make you tougher when you’re older.”

“Thanks, Lacey,” she said. “I better get back to dinner but maybe I can come back this week for makeup practice?”

“Sure,” I told her, “you take the rest of the tarts for the boys.” I said, hopping up to find a bag for her to take them, “if they stay here I’ll only eat them.”

“Okay,” she waited at the back door whilst I found a paper bag and I placed them inside.

“You know you can come talk to me anytime you like,” I told her, “I was a teenager once and you don’t have many girls around to talk to.”

“Thanks, see you later.” I watched her walk down the side of the cottage and waved goodbye as she walked onto the dirt track that led back to the big house. That poor girl had it tough with her family. She felt like a burden on her brother and yet her mom didn’t exactly make her feel comforted. She seemed to have no one and yet at the same time was surrounded by people. She was lucky her brother was around or else she’d be in foster care or worse still living with a mom whose problems weren’t being dealt with.  This farm and this family owed a lot to Alex, he kept everything going when it seemed his mom had done her best to rip it all apart.

I was learning that addiction was destructive, and I hoped to hell that my investment wouldn’t suffer because of it.