“I didn’t know you could cut hair.”
“I’m the receptionist.”
“Cody, what’s wrong with you?” Sister bore down. “Learn the print business. Your parents spent their whole lives building that business. It hasn’t made them rich but they paid for their home and sent you to college, and Jennifer will go, too.”
“Jennifer can run the business.” Cody feared Sister, but then most people did have a touch of fear about the dynamic old lady. “I’m not cut out for that.”
“Well, what are you cut out for? You’re twentyfive. You can’t just do nothing.”
“Not quite twentyfive.”
“Don’t quibble. You know exactly what I mean.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You must have a special interest.”
“Horses.”
Sister whistled to Raleigh, who had walked on ahead. He hurried back.“Hard way to make a living but if you love it, truly love it, then do it. You’ve only got one life and you spend most of it working. Do what you love. I did.”
“You had Mr. Arnold.” Cody showed some backbone.
“I didn’t start life with Raymond. I taught geology at Mary Baldwin College. Of course, I graduated with a degree in English but they needed a geology teacher so I learned. Funny, it’s helped me so much in hunting. Anyway, I worked. I taught even after Raymond and I were married. That was long before your time. I stopped when I had the baby. So there. Find something you like and stop wasting your life.”
“I wish I knew. You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. You’re waiting for someone to live your life for you, Cody.”
“I’m not. I’m a little, uh, rudderless right now.”
“I’m talking to you because no one else will.”
“Guess they’re talking behind my back.”
“This is a small town. The time to worry is when they’re not talking about you.”
Cody laughed.“That’s one way to look at it.”
“There’s a rabbit over there.” Raleigh could see it hop off in the drizzle.
Sister put her hand on the sleek black head.“I don’t have any cookies.” She returned her attention to Cody. “I’m glad you came out to help with the hounds.”
Cody pretended she was there for hound walk.“They need to go out.”
“Missed a day hunting. Do you know last year I only canceled twice. Twice. And here it is cubbing and I’ve already canceled once.”
“The weather is—” Cody shrugged.
“Have your parents talked to you? About direction, I mean.”
“Dad huffs. Mother is sympathetic.”
“I see.”
“I don’t want to leave here. There’s more opportunities in Richmond but I love it here by the mountains. I’d rather bump along than move there or go down to Charlotte.”
“Charlotte is totally unrecognizable to me.” Sister recalled the small textile town in North Carolina from her youth. “Here I’ve peppered you with questions but I haven’t provided any answers. Can’t, you know. Has to come from you.”
“Well, when Jennifer gets out of college I think we’ll start our own business. Maybe if she really takes over Mom and Dad’s business I could work with her. I’m hoping—” She broke her train of thought and couldn’t quite get back to it.
“Will you go out Tuesday?”
“I’m trying a new horse for Fontaine. Could be a rodeo show.” Cody pulled her cap down again.
“Ride in the back of the field, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Cody …”
“Ma’am?”
“You can’t drown your sorrows. They know how to swim.”
CHAPTER 10
Chickens amused Peter Wheeler. He’d built a sturdy chicken coop with a pitched roof, bought steel broody boxes, and built little ladders for them to perch on when not nestled in the boxes.
He fed them in the mornings, then returned at sundown to count heads, refill the water bucket, pluck eggs from the boxes.
Long ago he ran cattle, kept a few sheep, had hundreds of chickens, and grew hay as well. He’d always kept four horses, since he loved hunting.
Children found their way to Peter. Doug Kinser wound up there. The Lungrun children would come after school, as they desperately needed a happy atmosphere. Children walked over from surrounding farms or hitched rides out from town.
Age wore him down. In his eighties now, Peter had only the chickens left and a well-built harrier named Rooster.
He’d sold his business, a tractor dealership, for quite a bit of money, so his declining years were not attended by that poverty sadly common among the elderly.
He stooped a bit but still had thick wavy white hair plus all his teeth.
Often“his kids” would drive down the country road to visit him. He’d go into town on Wednesdays to see old friends.
Like many old people, he looked forward to chatting with anyone who dropped in.
He heard a truck rumble up to the house.
“Hey,” a familiar voice called out.
“In the henhouse,” he answered.
The door pushed open; Sister hugged him.“You love these damn chickens.” She leaned over. “Hi there, Rooster.”
“Hi.” He wagged his tail.
“Imelda, here”—he lifted up a plump chicken—“has turned into my best layer.” He gave Sister the egg basket.
“Wish it would stop raining.”
“Has been wet.” He handed her about a dozen eggs as he walked down the broody boxes. “I’ve got plenty. You take those home.”
“Thanks.” She reached in, feeling the warm brown eggs. “Peter, has Fontaine contacted you?”
“Wants to buy the place. Crawford, too. The numbers go up and up.”
“Fontaine doesn’t have money anymore. Don’t let him carry you fast.”
“Do I look like a fool?”
“No. In fact, you look quite handsome.”
“Bullshit. Fontaine says he has investors. Crawford has cold hard cash. Both say they want to save the farm from developers. I say they’re both liars of the first water. What do you say?”
“Suspicious.”
“And then some.”
“Good money?”
“Yes. Crawford started at one-point-five million and is up to two-point-seven. Fontaine says to give him until November and he’ll come up with three million.”
“Jesus.”
“For a nature conservancy. I asked for papers, contracts, conservation easements. Crawford had them. Now, sugar pie, they look good, but any decent lawyer will spot the loopholes. Sounds like Wheeler’s Mill Estates to me.” He laughed.
“That’s a lot of money.”
“I’m too goddamned old to enjoy it but I like the action. Used to love to make deals in my youth—my sixties and seventies.”
“Do they know they’re competing?”
“They do.” He laughed louder. “Lord, it’s fun. Those two boys hate each other.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Come on to the house. You look peaked, honey.”
“I was scared you might sell.”
“Come on.”
They went inside, drank a little sherry, and laughed at all the things people know about one another and their community when they’ve lived together a long time.
She checked her watch.“I’d better head out.”
“Janie, I still love you. I want you to know that.”
“I love you, too.”
“Ever wonder what would have happened if we could have married?”
“I’d be feeding chickens.” She laughed, then said, “Life’s strange.”
“It is that.”
The fleeting image of the Grim Reaper jolted Sister. She said,“Peter, if I had to do it all over again I wouldn’t change a thing. You know when Ray Junior died I thought God was punishing me for our affair. Then time passed and I thought differently.”
“God doesn’t punish us for love. Only people do that.”
“Well, I loved you. I’ll always love you. I guess I was a good wife but not a faithful one.”
“You were a good wife. I just wish I’d found you before Ray did. I never hated him. He was too good a man. He had his Achilles’ heel. We all do. But he was a good man.”