3
MITCHELL
“You did what?” Levi’s voice echoes from the surround sound Bluetooth speakers. It ricochets off the wooden walls and the floor-to-ceiling windows, and like prickly heat, stings against my skin. Though he’s twenty-seven hundred miles away, displeasure emanates from his Cyclops-like picture on video chat on the TV. “What the hell were you thinking, Mitchell?”
I’m sitting on the couch, elbows on my knees. My fingers are laced, to keep myself braced. Knowing this was how my brother was going to react, I waited five days to tell him about leasing Dunford, until I was sure the potential tenant’s credit check and deposit came through. Though, truthfully, it was because I was avoiding this exact response. “I did what I had to do.”
“We asked you to take care of the place, not parcel it out.”
“It’s a lease, brother. A five-year lease, with the option to renew. Nothing permanent. Lavenderhill is going to shit—no one’s lived in it since Dad died. That’s five years of it gathering dust. Frankly, it’s income property.”
“And fucking frankly, you can’t make a decision like this without us. This is our childhood home, Mitch. Left for us. For us.” His irritation crackles through the room, but beyond it, I hear it. Exhaustion. “Don’t you agree with me, Cody?”
I hear a sigh from our youngest brother, the third person on the video chat. Cody’s face is farther away, as if he wants nothing to do with this conversation. “No doubt you should have run it by us, Mitch. But then again, he’s right, Levi. We’re running out of options, and the place isn’t exactly doing anything but eating up the vineyard trust.” Cody’s voice is breathy and calculated. At twenty-six, he’s two years younger than me, but at times like this, he’s an expert politician. Cody’s peacemaking skills have been honed into a bayonet’s point, since he never wants to get between Levi and me.
I nod. “And we agreed. The eldest in town makes the decisions, and right now, I’m him. Look, the spreadsheets are pretty clear. We need income, and with the vineyard closed a year now, though we’ve had to pay property managers, utilities, workers to maintain it minimally . . . you’re gonna have to trust me.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you.” Resignation resounds through Levi’s voice. “But the land is the only thing we have left. Business for me is shit right now, and I’m counting on falling back on Lavenderhill if this doesn’t work out.”
I lower my voice, switching roles. I forget how gutsy Levi was to take his wife, Ruby, to start over in DC, and now with two little girls, he’s under a lot of pressure. Levi always took the lead by default, and giving up control to his non-business-minded middle brother is probably scaring the shit out of him. What I lack in business experience, though, I make up for in instinct and knowledge of agriculture. “I’m in this all the way, like you are. Bringing someone in who can take care of Lavenderhill and the garden, plus pay us rent? No-brainer decision.”
I stand from the couch and head to the windows. Below is Lavenderhill, the deck in perfect view. Beyond is the fertile land of what outsiders call Gold Country, shadowed by clouds, covered by trees and shrubs and flowering plants. This was the view I missed the most when I was in Afghanistan, what I thought of when all before me was dry, rocky, mountainous terrain.
Levi whines. “I swear, our parents should’ve had one more kid. Someone to wrangle all of our shit together.”
“That shit wrangler will be me from here on out. In fact, I’m meeting with the tenant and our Realtor this morning to sign the lease and to discuss the renovations the tenant has planned, and I’ll be very clear with our expectations that we only want changes that improve the property, okay?” Taking a breath, I grab the binoculars from the window-side table and bring them to my eyes. Sometimes nature will surprise me with a red-tailed hawk, and I know it’s a lucky day if I spot the white head of a bald eagle. This was another thing they didn’t have near the fire base in Afghanistan—the multitudes of birds, the presence of flora and fauna we have in abundance here.
I drop my view to the meadow, lower than Lavenderhill in elevation and off to the left. Currently, three vehicles are parked side by side: Rocío’s SUV, a small U-Haul truck, and a Mini Cooper, probably owned by the person on the lease: Mary B. Aquino.
“Skype to Mitchell.” Levi’s voice startles me to the present. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry.” I return to the couch and slouch into it.
“I’m still planning on visiting mid-July. We can make more decisions when I’m there.”
Has the guy been listening to me at all? “Dude. It’s not like I’m going to be making zero decisions from now till then. I’m going to run this place the way I see fit.”
Levi scrubs his face with his hands. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just—”
“Trust, brother.”
Cody’s voice cuts through the tension. “I’ll be taking some time off then, too.”
My gaze moves to Cody. “You telling me I’m not gonna see you for another month? You live a couple of hours away.”
“Yeah, but it’s my schedule. They give the rookie cops graveyard hours.”
“All right, man,” I answer, dubious. Cody’s an extravert and this is unlike him. But I don’t push, because the clock on the digital cable box says I’m running late to the lease signing. “Talk to you both in a bit? Should head down the hill.” A yawn escapes me.
“Hold up. Mitch, have you been sleeping?” Levi asks. In my silence, he presses. “Dude.”
“I promise. I’m fine.”
“FYI—Adam’s number is on the fridge.”
I wave his words away. Adam is Golden’s one and only psychologist. He’s also Levi’s best friend. Although I don’t have a close personal relationship with Adam, I prefer not sharing my issues with someone I know. “My insomnia is under control. I have my own shrink.”
“Who isn’t nearby.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I’m in the process of transferring services. But fine, to make you happy—yes, okay, I’ll call Adam if I need him.”
“Mitchell David.”
“Levi Aaron. You’re really starting to sound like our mother.”
“Boys, don’t use our mother’s name in vain,” Cody says.
“All right, all right.” Finally, Levi sounds like he’s given up. “Please, just run things by me? Big things? Check in every few days. And don’t let your tenant do anything permanent to our home.”
“I promise to ask your permission whenever I wipe my ass. Sir.” I fake-salute with my left hand.
Cody laughs.
Levi flips us off with both hands. “I’m gonna go.” But after a pause, he adds, “Love you guys.”
After we all hang up, I plop a baseball cap on my head for my scheduled meeting with the Aquinos. Exiting through the back door, I’m greeted by the expanse of the vineyards. Rows of greenery and vines, of the deep purples of zinfandels and the translucent green of Chardonnay grapes.
Pride fills me. This is Dunford’s legacy. I’ll absolutely protect it—all of this. Levi might have his fears, and I may have my shortcomings, but my commitment is to Dunford. Even if I have my own opinion on how our business should be run, I understand my utmost priorities must align with those of the other two members of our family corporation: to restore the vineyard, which was closed and has been barely maintained since Cody left last year, and to reestablish our relationships with wineries and hope they still want our grapes.
But until that happens, our only option for raising capital is to lease Lavenderhill, even if it upsets Levi.
My feet are their own master as I trek down through the shortcut that runs behind Lavenderhill. Dew slaps across my jeans as I wade through the overgrown grass to the edge of the property line separated by a ditch. I leap across, the rush of air a shock, reminding me of the million times my brothers and I did the same thing when we were kids.
As I approach the side entrance of the home, I track the subtle movement of something through the trees in the apple orchard. Moving closer, I see someone on a wooden orchard ladder. It’s probably the same one we used decades ago, when my brothers and I tackled each rung together, at times tipping it to the side. And where the ladder is perched now, on a slight hill, with its third leg on the downslope means only one thing. A fall.
My body makes my decision before I register myself moving. What do folks say about soldiers?
You can take the soldier out of the field, but you can’t take the field out of the soldier.
My hands are on the ladder just as it starts to buckle, and I yell upward at a pair of feet. “Steady! Don’t move.” Mother of God, the person is on the highest rung. The ladder shakes, as if I startled it, and apples fall. One, two, three thunk around me. I look up just as a shadow emerges.
And an apple hits me in the eye.
“Fuck.” My eyeball burns and tears as I raise my good eye to see the figure in black climb down.
“Oh man, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” It’s a woman’s voice.
“Better now. You know you were two seconds from biting it? Next time you’re out here, make sure you’re not alone.”
She gasps. “Oh my God, it’s you.”
“Me what?” Once I feel the woman’s weight ease from the ladder, I rub both my eyes of the leftover sting until my vision clears. Holy shit—it’s the woman from a few days ago, the one I doused with coffee, standing in front of me. My pulse quickens. I didn’t think I’d see her again. My first instinct is to jump into a greeting but I’m met with her scowl. I bite down on a smile. “It’s you.”
“That’s what I said.” She narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” I size her up. She’s wearing an apron, hair tucked into a bandana. With her bright pink lipstick and glitter on her eyelids, I can’t look away. My body reacts the same way it did our first meeting, with a curiosity that kept me thinking of her for days afterward.
“I live here, too. Soon, anyway.” She points at me with an apple, nose scrunched.
Damn she’s cute.
“Wait. You’re a Dunford?” she asks.
“That I am. The middle. Mitchell.” I grin at this luck, and at the fact she doesn’t have a ring on her finger. “You’re an Aquino, I take it.” When she nods, it dawns on me. Just because she doesn’t have a ring on her finger doesn’t mean she isn’t hitched. Guys didn’t wear their rings in the field while they worked. I reel myself in and take my voice down to professional grade. “I’m ready for our meeting. Is everyone in your party here?”
An eyebrow shoots up, then she props her hand on her hip. A beat later, she takes a bite out of the apple. “My party.”
“Yeah, um . . . a spouse. Partner?”
She shakes her head. “I’m the tenant.”
I smile at this, while the logical part of me halts my train of thought. “You’re Mary B. Aquino?”
She nods stiffly. “Both your Realtor and my sister are inside, waiting. Because you’re late.”
Yep, she’s definitely not happy to see me, and hasn’t forgotten about my dumping a gallon of coffee on her. So I try to oil the skids a little, relax her with a joke. “Well, Mary, let me tell you about those ladders. They’re old. Do you have experience with orchards? Gardens?”
She levels her eyes at me. “Even if it’s none of your business. Yes, yes I do.”
I keep myself from smiling. “So I guess you know you really don’t need these ladders anymore, especially with these apple-picking drones that are all the rage now.”
She places her mouth on the apple, pink lips around the red, and bites down on the flesh. As she chews, I imagine those lips on mine, leaving them red after a wet kiss, and I tear my eyes away. “Oh yeah. The drones. I’m in the market for them.”
Gotcha. I shake my head, and a laugh makes it way up my throat. “There’s no such thing as an apple-picking drone, not one commercially that is anywhere near affordable. I’m totally messing with you.”
“Funny.” Her voice is monotone, clearly not finding it so. “Wait. How did you know to come into the orchard and not the front door?” She looks beyond me, and when I turn, the glare of Mountainridge’s window pierces my vision.
I pointed east. “I came through the shortcut.”
“Interesting. You can see me and you can pass behind the house.” She steps around me, then crosses the threshold through the side doors. “Mr. Dunford, let’s get this meeting started, shall we? I think we have a lot to discuss.”