How Many Times Do I Have to Say I'm Sorry? (Maudlin Falls)

by Lesli Richardson

  I’m reasonably certain Mr. Barnes won’t spill my secret. He hasn’t yet told anyone else in town he’s selling to the developer, worried that it’ll get him run out of same said town.

  Can’t blame him.

  Better the announcement comes after all the pieces are in place. Once the locals find out that they’re getting several new businesses, it shouldn’t be too difficult to win them over.

  Hopefully I’ve had a chance to win Tomas back by then. It’s difficult for me not to picture myself living here again, yet I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up for a whole host of reasons.

  The first being that Tom might hate me, and he might already have someone else by now.

  I admit it—I was wrong to think I could ever be happy without him. I was also wrong to think I could convince him to give up a business that’s been in his family for decades, one that the town counts on. He’s put his entire heart and soul into it literally his entire life.

  I was wrong.

  Now if I can just get a chance to tell him how sorry I am—as many times as he needs to hear it from me—I’ll gladly grovel for as long and hard as he needs me to.

  This real estate deal will make several people a lot of money. Not me, because I’m only earning billable hours for my role in the transaction. But the developer is one of the firm’s largest clients and is good friends with one of the senior partners.

  All of my plans, of course, are contingent upon me reconciling with Tom. I’m hoping I can work out a deal with my firm to let me cut back on my cases when I move here. I can work remotely and then limit my in-person work to the Miami office. It’d mean a massive cut in income, but I no longer care about that.

  If they won’t agree? Then I guess I’ll go back to work for another firm, or for myself, here in Maudlin Falls and the surrounding area.

  Yes, I might have checked and there’s still no lawyer in Maudlin Falls. Most of my work would be in the nearby larger towns, like Webley and Colley, but I could have an office here.

  Right?

  When I make the final turn, I find the front gate at the end of the driveway has been left open for me. I met Keith Barnes a few times when I lived here, but who knows if he remembers me?

  Slowly driving up the rutted driveway, I look around at the rolling fields surrounding the house. No cattle, no crops. I can see why he’d want to sell, but he’s owned the property for decades now and it apparently belonged to his father before him.

  It’s a shame it will go to someone else.

  I’ve just parked in front of the house next to an older Ford pickup when my personal phone rings—and my heart nearly stops.

  It’s Tomas.

  No kidding, I absolutely panic. Which is why I stupidly send the call to voice mail.

  My hands shake as I immediately type out a text.

  Sorry, just heading into a meeting with a client. Is everything okay, or can I call you back later?

  I mean, it’s not a lie but I still feel horrible. I’ve never lied to him. Ever. This just feels…wrong.

  And Herb didn’t recognize me this morning. He would’ve said something if he had, and likely would have called Tom about it long before now. Meaning Tom definitely would have said what the heck and called me.

  This has to be a coincidence.

  Has to be.

  Please let it be that and not that he’s telling me he’s getting married, or something horrible’s happened!

  He texts me back almost immediately, meaning he hung up when he heard my voice mail.

  Sorry, no emergency. Just wanted to say hi.

  Now I feel even worse. I don’t want to leave him hanging.

  This meeting will take me a couple of hours. Once I’m done, I promise I’ll call you back. I’ve missed you so much. Sorry it’s been so long. Love you.

  Yes, it’s admittedly risky adding that and him possibly shooting me down, but I don’t want to leave it unsaid.

  I’ve left it unsaid for far too long. Especially considering there was a time it was one of the first things we said to each other every morning, and the last thing we said to each other every night.

  I sit there, waiting and hoping he texts me back quickly. I die a thousand deaths in the sixty or so seconds before his reply arrives.

  Love you and miss you, too.

  Relief hits me so hard that I dang near start crying right there. I text him back a smiley face and then force myself out of the car.

  Even though every bone in my body currently screams at me to race into town, track him down, and propose to him right there in front of everyone.

  No. Work first.

  Besides, just because Tomas says he loves and misses me doesn’t mean he’s still single, or even that wants me back.

  I’m no dummy. He wouldn’t break up with me in a text. He’d want to give me difficult news in person. This could either be a lucky break or an insurmountable obstacle.

  Regardless, it means I might have a lot of hard work ahead of me to earn back his trust.

  * * * *

  Keith Barnes is in his early seventies, by my best guess. He stands around five-eleven with stooped shoulders, on the thin side, and his head’s topped by wispy grey hair. His blue eyes appear sharp and clear behind his wire-rimmed glasses, though. Years of working outside have etched deep lines around the outer corners of his eyes.

  From the way his gaze widens when he opens the door and sees me standing there, I realize he recognizes me. His next words confirm it.

  “Desi Keiser. Tomas didn’t mention you were back in town. In fact, no one did.” He shakes hands with me.

  Heat fills my face. “He doesn’t know yet. Neither does anyone else. It’s going to be a surprise.”

  A good one, I hope.

  “Ah.” He steps aside. “Welcome, then, I suppose.”

  “Thanks.” He leads me into the kitchen where we settle at the table.

  “How does this happen? I haven’t signed any papers yet. Think I’m still trying to talk myself into it.”

  “I’ve already done some preliminary research this morning, over in Webley.” I break out my tablet and start going through everything with him, outlining the process. I have a boilerplate contract to start with, but I need to fill in all the details, and that will take me a few hours and a little more research. “We’ll need to get the land surveyed, too. I’ll take care of hiring someone for that at the firm’s expense.” Fortunately, there’s no one in Maudlin Falls who does that, meaning one less chance of someone tipping off Tomas.

  After about thirty minutes, he slowly nods. “Okay, then,” he softly says. “Seems straightforward enough, I guess.” Then he sadly sighs.

  I blame my inattention on my personal life. I should have picked up on this a lot sooner. I switch off the tablet and set it aside. “Are you sure you want to sell? You aren’t obligated to do this. If you’ve reconsidered, it’s fine to say that. I’ll tell them you’ve changed your mind. There is no purchase contract yet. Or I can write the contract with a cooling-off period in it for you to change your mind without penalty and cancel, in case you want to.”

  A grizzled, gnarled hand rubs at the back of his neck as his voice cracks. “No, I don’t want to sell it. Unfortunately, I have to. I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve buried a wife and children and parents and siblings here. I don’t want to lose it, either. The only reason I’m selling it is to keep it from eventually getting sold out from under me on the courthouse steps for not being able to pay the taxes. Another couple of years or so will completely wipe me out. And it’s a shame about Tomas, too.”

  My stomach clenches, fear spiking through me. “What do you mean?”

  Keith sighs. “His store. This will probably shut him down. I do feel guilty about that. I hope people won’t hate me.”

  My fear transforms to confusion. “Again, what do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  He stares out the kitchen window, which looks over the fallow fields. “The Mega Warehouse. It’ll be one of
their largest stores in this part of the country, as well as a regional distribution center. That’s what they told me they’re going to build here. I didn’t want to be responsible for a bunch of houses overrunning everything. At least it’ll add some more jobs locally.”

  My fear returns. “I…I wasn’t told that. I was told it would be a commercial shopping center.”

  He gives me a look that tells me he wonders how smart I really am. “Bless your heart.”

  Heat fills my face, a mix of embarrassment and anger that I was lied to. “I really didn’t know!”

  He sighs again as his focus returns to the fields beyond. “This property’s been in my family over a hundred years. I wish I could make them promise not to tear down the old buildings, and make them promise to preserve the graveyard.”

  “Wait…what?”

  He snorts. “Desiderio, you seem like a nice and smart enough fellow, but you’re really in over your head about this, aren’t you?”

  “Just… Hold on a minute.” This is all news to me and my head’s spinning. “What old buildings? What graveyard?”

  He sadly shakes his head at me. “Let me guess—no one told you any of that either, did they? I disclosed it all to them. Sent the hand-drawn maps with the approximate locations and everything. To that guy, what’s his name? Fred? I told him I wanted it written into the sales contract, but he said he that wasn’t standard procedure.”

  My mind reels as my anger builds. I knew Freddy was involved in some of the initial discussions about this before it was handed off to me to deal with, but I didn’t know he’d actually talked to Keith Barnes directly.

  Freddy knows my connection to Maudlin Falls. I’ve never made a secret about my past. “No, I wasn’t told any of this. What buildings?”

  “The old church, for starters. The first schoolhouse in the area. The old jail and what was city hall. At least fifty graves, that I know of. Several of which I unfortunately dug myself. It was the area’s first graveyard. My family bought that parcel of land over seventy years ago and promised to keep the graveyard intact.”

  He stands and leads me outside, where he points toward a wooded section in the far southwest corner. “All over there. About three acres, give or take. Some ruins of other buildings, too.” He turns and points to the woody stand of trees just past his house. “Over there, that’s the old mercantile and another two cabins.”

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “Everyone knows about it. The old-timers, anyway. Problem is, no one really seems to care anymore. Not if it costs them money or time or effort. A couple of the history teachers used to bring kids out on field trips a couple of times a year, but that’s been years now since they did that. I guess safety issues or budget cutbacks or something. Never told me why.

  “A few months ago, I asked around to several people I know have money to see if they wanted to pool their resources or something to buy and preserve those parcels at least, but none of them did. No one I know can afford to buy it and farm it. I even looked into leasing farmland to one of those corporate outfits, but they wanted me to make my neighbors sign all sorts of seed patent agreements, which I didn’t understand, that could hold them liable if anything sprouted in their fields. That was a bunch of BS, so I told them to forget it.”

  He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his overalls. “It’s really sad it’s come to this.”

  An idea hits me. “Hold on a minute.” I pull my phone out and call up the county’s charter and quickly skim through it. Then I bring up the state’s laws and find what I’m looking for there.

  Bingo.

  I turn to him. “If I can set up a way for you to keep your property and you wouldn’t have to pay any taxes at all, or pay minimal taxes, would you be willing to keep it?”

  He scowls but nods. “Of course I would.”

  “What if I can also come up with a way for you to make a living off the property, too, and save the buildings in the process?”

  He holds up his hands. “You see these? Arthritis. I can’t farm it anymore.”

  “I would be able to get you people to help with the labor, and it would pay for itself and likely pay you a profit, too. You’d have to be in charge of running the business part of it, at least in the beginning.”

  He looks understandably doubtful, but he nods. “Absolutely, I’d agree to that.”

  I grin. “Might want to delay your order for moving boxes, then.” I head back to the house to get my things. I’m excited to get started on this.

  Especially since it means screwing Freddy over in the process.

  “Wait!” I pull up short as he follows me. “What are you saying, Desi? I thought you were hired to make this deal happen?”

  Determination fills me. “I was apparently hired under false pretenses. Look, don’t say anything to anyone else yet, okay? If you do, my firm might try to stop me. Let me do this for you and for the town.”

  “And for Tomas? I mean, if I don’t sell, they can’t build their warehouse here, and his store’s safe. Right?”

  An unexpected prickle of tears stings my eyes. “Yeah, for Tomas, too.”

  He smiles. “Always thought you boys belonged together. You have any idea how miserable he’s been since you left?” He pokes me in the shoulder but I deserve that.

  “I’ve been pretty freaking miserable since I left, too. It took coming back for me to finally admit it.”

  His smile fades once more. “I was hoping there would be some jobs for the town out of this deal, at least.”

  “There can be. Let me work on this. I have several ideas I think will all work in your favor.” My mind is fixated on the ranch vacation my mom is bugging me to take.

  Why couldn’t something like that work here? Maybe not ranching, but other things. A working homestead experience. That would add a lot of jobs to the area, mostly doing stuff the local residents already have plenty of experience with. Charge admittance fees for people, hold tours. Heck, a nonprofit could even get volunteers to do a lot of the work for free and apply for grant money to keep it going, as well as solicit donations from individuals and businesses.

  Once I have my things, I say my good-byes and head for my car, my mind racing with a plan about how to pull this off. On the return to Webley, I swing by my hotel in Sarcan and check in, because I’m not stupid enough to jinx myself by feeling overly confident that Tom will ask me to stay with him. Then I return to the county courthouse to do more in-person research.

  There are several hurdles I’ll need to jump to save Keith Barnes’ farm. The biggest is getting the county commission to declare it a historic site and then also recording that with the state to get it preserved. Secondly, I need to create a nonprofit trust to put the property into, with Keith as the manager. Then I can create a foundation and file for nonprofit status with the IRS, which I can then also use to file a zoning amendment with the county to waive the property taxes.

  That will take care of the tax issue.

  But with such a historic place, it should be easy to recruit volunteers to help preserve and care for the property, including turning it into a tourist destination. It can be used for school outings, festivals, or even—

  Yes!

  If there are people willing to pay a few thousand dollars to work on a ranch, we could easily draw people willing to pay a lot less for a day spent living in the “past.” Historic reenactments. It could be both a working farm as well as an attraction.

  He could have people pay him to help him care for the property. Maybe even set up a camping area and people could pay to stay there.

  Heck, he could plant pumpkins and have an annual fall festival. Or plant spring crops and have a festival for that. There are lots of ways this could be a money-maker, with multiple avenues for potential revenue.

  The town gains jobs without any competition to other businesses. Bonus, it’ll bring more customers to other businesses in town, and provide part-time employment for teenagers who can’t find w
ork locally, or who need summer jobs.

  Even more importantly?

  It’ll help save Tom’s store and keep him in business. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that’s the only reason I truly care about.

  Well, that and knowing this deal getting borked will irritate Freddy and likely lower his standing in the firm.

  That’s a nice bonus.

  Chapter Seven

  Tomas

  One thing’s obvious to me—I’m not fit to be at work today. No doubt word of the morning sighting, and the likely very spirited debate about whether or not it was actually Desi, has spread from the Methodist ladies’ group and engulfed my entire staff by now.

  Meaning either they’ll want to talk about it with me, or they’ll fall guiltily silent at the sight of me, nudging each other with elbows as I approach, and I don’t want to deal with that, either.

  I get it—my friends worry about me. Their concerns spring from a place of love, and I don’t take that for granted.

  Doesn’t mean I want them falling all over themselves or me to try to cheer me up or lift my spirits.

  Or, worse, start trying to fix me up. Because if they do that, and something ends badly, I don’t want other people dragged into the drama.

  Of course I’m not the only gay man in town. Are there other eligible gay men in town? Yes, but none who I’ve met who float my boat in anything other than a let’s just be friends kind of way.

  I’ve thought about using one of those dating sites but every time I start to fill out the profile, the questions make me think about Desi and I shut the page down without ever completing it.

  The truth is that I am not over him yet, and haven’t even started that process. Maybe when he calls me back later I need to just say the words. Maybe I need to ask him if we’re truly…done.