After cautiously peeking into the sitting room and finding it Danica-free, I step in and announce that I’m leaving.

“What? Why?” my mom asks, but she’s frowning like she already knows.

My aunt Tilly frowns the same way. “But you just got here . . .”

“I’m not feeling well,” I tell them honestly, and my pragmatist father chimes in from where he’s sunken into a recliner.

“Didn’t Danica drive you?”

“A friend is picking me up,” I tell him. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s already on his way.”

Everyone frowns at me in silence—especially my brokenhearted little brother who I know isn’t ready to say goodbye to me just yet—and my uncle stands up and motions for me to follow. “Let’s talk a minute before you go.”

My feet are heavy as I obediently follow him back to the kitchen, and he serves us both slices of pumpkin pie that sit untouched on a pair of porcelain plates.

“So,” he says, his eyes so like my mother’s. Sometimes, when I take notice of his fitted shirt and his pressed pants and his shiny shoes, it’s hard to imagine that he grew up on hand-me-downs and yard sales, just like my mother and just like me. All three of us were raised on the same plot of land, but I have a difficult time picturing him in a T-shirt with dirt under his fingernails.

He considers me for a moment, and then he goes to the fridge for a can of whipped cream. “I remember when you and Dani were little girls,” he says with his head in the fridge. “You both wanted to grow up and marry that mermaid’s boyfriend . . . the Disney one.”

“Eric,” I offer, and my uncle stands up from behind the fridge door.

“That’s the one,” he says, spraying dollops of cream on both our pumpkin pie slices. “One time, you two argued over him so bad that Dani started crying, and you hugged her and told her that you’d marry Simba instead.”

He smiles warmly at the memory, and I struggle in the wake of the emotions stirring inside me. Part of me misses being that close with Danica—misses the innocence of arguing over Disney princes—but was it always that way? Was I always so willing to give up my happily-ever-after for her?

I’m expecting my uncle to lecture me about fighting over a boy, to tell me how trivial it all is and how someday it won’t matter. But instead, he holds my gaze and says, “You’ve always been like a daughter to me, Hailey. I know we don’t see each other much anymore, but your happiness is very important to me and Tilly.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.

“I know that you and Danica have grown apart, but that doesn’t make you any less a part of our family. I see a lot of myself in you.”

“You do?” I ask in a quiet voice, and he stares down at our pie, finally realizing that we don’t have forks to eat with. He busies himself with getting them, but once again, neither of us moves to eat.

“The farm was always your mother’s dream, not mine,” he finally says. “She loved it. She loved rising with the sun. She loved helping with the livestock. She even loved driving the tractor into town and flipping off everyone who beeped at her along the way.”

“She still does that,” I say with a chuckle, and my uncle laughs.

“I didn’t mind all of it,” he tells me after a while. “But I didn’t love it like your mom did. She and your dad loved that town, but I loved the idea of finding new towns, bigger towns. My heart was never on that farm, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think yours is either.”

I shake my head, and he nods his understanding.

“It was really hard for me when I went to college. My parents didn’t understand why I’d bother, and even though I had a scholarship, I couldn’t afford new clothes or anything like that. I used to eat canned vegetables in between classes because that was all I could afford to bring for lunch.”

I imagine a lanky kid, taller than my brother but with the same big eyes, trying to navigate a college campus with no clue what he was doing. I imagine him trying to thrive in a world he’d never been a part of, and I feel like we’d be friends.

“It was a long time ago, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday,” my uncle continues, and he takes a deep breath. “Your mom told me that you know about me bailing out the farm, and I’m sure you’ve wondered why I didn’t give your parents the deed.”

I don’t argue, and he nods in silent reply.

“It’s because it’s my childhood home too, Hailey. I love your father like my own brother, but he’s terrible with finances and always has been. He’s a farmer, not a businessman, and it’s important to me that the farm stays in our family, so I’m making sure it does.”

I take a moment to consider all he’s telling me, and then I assure him, “I understand.”

“Do you?”

I nod, and he sighs in tired relief.

“I wanted to offer to pay for you to go to school a long time ago, but it wasn’t really my place. A man wants to be able to provide for his own family, but . . .” He stops himself and taps his fingers against the counter. “I’m rambling. Look, the point is that you don’t need to worry about me suddenly deciding to stop paying your tuition. And don’t tell me you weren’t worried, because I could see that you were.”

I frown, and my uncle frowns back.