Ashley nodded, her ponytail swinging with the motion. “But Maude is right you know. My mama calls the O’reilly brothers ‘trouble with a capital T’. My older sister is twenty and my mama said if she ever hears she fancies either of the O’reillys that she’s not paying her car payment or cell phone bill anymore.”
Anna laughed, feeling a little homesick. Though Viv would likely be the kind of mother that told her she should go ahead and fall into bed with either, or both, of the O’reilly brothers. Seperately. Or at the same time. You only live once, after all.
“So what can I get for you?” Ashley asked after handing off the plates to a passing busboy and pulling out her server book.
Anna ordered coffee and three different kinds of danishes. Viv would have had something to say about that as well. Her mother had become a bit of a fitness fanatic after she turned forty and had been nagging Anna for years about her eating habits. She was predisposed to, as her mother put it, ‘become rather hippy’ though otherwise in good shape. She somehow managed to possess the metabolism of a growing teenage boy who could sock away meal after meal without having to worry about putting on much weight to the envy of all her coworkers who swore that if they even looked at a doughnut, they gained five pounds
She cradled her coffee in her hands which she decided to take with milk but without her usual sugar since she was about to binge on desserts. Maybe her mother’s lectures weren’t entirely lost on her.
Taking a sip, she considered how different her life was now. She had hardly been in Stars Landing twenty-four hours and she had already had more excitement than she had had in a full year back home.
She picked at her danishes, feeling much like an outsider in her own life. Because in what universe could tiny little insignificant Annabelle Goode have acquired a farm, a comically overweight cat, and a town full of quirky characters? Then, of course, there was the matter of the two incredibly attractive men that had crossed her path in just a matter of hours. Sam with his rugged next door neighbor charm, kind eyes and random baby goat. And Eric the mechanic who pretty much breathed sex appeal. Though her self-esteem couldn’t quite allow her to believe what Maude had to say. Eric wasn’t attracted to her per say. He was probably one of those guys who couldn’t help but be charming. True flirts cant just turn it off. It didn’t matter if they were talking to a college freshman or her great grandmother- they could probably get their pulses jumping by just being themselves.
Annabelle paid her tab and went in search of the grocery store. She found it a few storefronts down. Another giddy bell greeted her as she entered and she felt her heart sink a little. This wasn’t a grocery store like she was used to back home with aisle after aisle of prepackaged junk food. There was an enormous produce section. Brightly colored fruits and vegetables practically spilled over their display cases. She was more than a little ashamed to admit that she didn’t recognize quite a few of the things she found there.
The Goode women may have been a lot of things, but good cook was not one of them. Viv had pretty much raised her on take-out and quick to throw together stove top meals and occasionally frozen dinners until her fitness phase kicked in and all she ever brought into the house was salad greens and protein bars.
Anna grabbed a few apples, a bag of grapes, and what she was pretty sure was romaine lettuce before stocking up on pasta, rice, and yogurt and prayed it would get her through the week.
The grocer at the checkout was somewhere in his fifties with a head full of gray hair and a thick mustache to match. He had a friendly, ruddy face and a belly that spilled happily over his waistband. His bright yellow name tag said “Hank The Friendly Grocer”.
“Well hello there Miss. Goode,” he greeted her as she loaded her groceries onto the belt. “Glad to see you got here quickly. I was starting to worry we were going to have to import our herbs from out of town this year since no one was around to tend to Mam’s crop. Did she get around to planting the annuals before she passed? God rest her.”
Anna perked up slightly. It hadn’t escaped her thoughts that she only had a certain amount of money to hold her over until she figured out this farming thing or got herself a new job. And there was Hank The Friendly Grocer who obviously wanted business from her.
“I think she got most of them planted. I haven’t really gotten a chance to really look everything over yet,” she said, avoiding mentioning she didn’t know what Mam grew let alone how to do so herself.
“Of course, of course,” Hank said as he bagged her food. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Keep me posted though so I can get all my hens in a row.”
“Of course,” Anna smiled, handing him her money.
“Good. Good. Oh, actually,” Hank exclaimed, rummaging under the counter for a moment before producing a piece of paper he handed her. “These are some notes I scribbled for Mam before… well… before. There are some estimates for what herbs I am going to want at first harvest and how much.”
Anna took the paper, feeling her heart beat faster with anxiety. When was first harvest? She scanned the notes, the words “dill, rosemary, mint” caught her eye. “That’s a lot of dill,” she observed, wondering what on Earth so much could possibly be used for.
“Oh that,” Hank smiled, his chest puffing up proudly. “that’s for my famous pickles. Between Joe’s cucumbers, Mam’s dill, and my mama’s recipe, I have the best pickles around.”
“Cant wait to try them,” Anna smiled, thanking Hank and making her way back to her car.
She turned it over, thankful that the day had turned out more productive than she had thought it would. If nothing else, she knew she would need massive amounts of dill for Hank’s pickles. Now all she had to figure out where, or if, the dill was already planted as well as how to make it grow and how, exactly, you went about harvesting it. She silently prayed Mam kept a record on that kind of thing. And that she possessed one of those moron books to gardening.
Three
Mam didn’t keep many personal items around her house, aside from the absurd amount of knick-knacks that covered every surface. There were no photo albums, no journals, no phone books. The only personal item she found was a handwritten note in a beautiful frame hanging on her bedroom wall. It said simply, “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. - John”
Anna laughed when she found it. For the first time she was getting some insight into the kind of woman her great aunt had been. She wondered who John was and what he did and what Mam must have said to him to prompt such a note. And, most of all, what prompted Mam to spend time and money to so carefully preserve a note that apologized for being an asshole.
It seemed like Mam had stubborn and bitter streak. It wasn’t good enough that he said sorry once. No, she needed to see his apology note proudly displayed on the wall in her house. The thought of Mam walking passed it every morning and night and scoffing or smirking made her laugh again.
She had been in Stars Landing for a little over a week. She spent most of her free time acquiring books and pouring over them, taking meticulous little notes that she put into alphabetical order. Taking a walk on the property with two of her books, a bucket of rocks and a permanent marker, she found and labeled every already planted field. The ones that had nothing in them she assumed were up to her to figure out what to plant. The thought was exciting if not a little daunting.
It took her all of five minutes to decide to plant the largest open field with chamomile. She could sell it as a plant. Or she could sell it as herbs for dishes. And, more importantly, she could dry it and package it to sell as tea in the off season when there would be no fresh harvests.
Annabelle had always been good at planning. In school she had always been top of her class and she spent many hours pouring over non-school books in her free time. She had always been eager to learn new things. She probably could have gone to any college of her choice on a scholarship had she ever been able to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She had always been too busy planning to actually deci
de. She could open a bookstore or her own coffee shop. She could go to veterinary school.
The idea was always more exciting than actually committing to it.
She had always been envious of the people who simply knew what they wanted to do. They wanted to go to law school so they could fight social injustice. They wanted to go to business school and become a filthy rich venture capitalist and spend all their free time chasing models on exotic beaches.
She had never been that passionate. So she slaved away at ten or twelve hour days at someone else’s business and socked away money for the day when she maybe, just maybe would take the chance, drain her account, and start her own business. But there was always that little voice in the back of her head telling her she was never going to be able to pull it off.
Mam’s farm falling into her lap was the kick in the pants she needed. A opportunity, with no anxiety-filled move of her own, came by and she could grab it by the short hairs and take a chance. She wouldn’t spend the rest of her life wishing she had found the courage earlier. Or, worse, yet, to die with a “what if” between her line.
So although she had never had a green thumb (evidenced by the dozens of houseplants she had managed to kill over the years, despite following the care instructions exactly) she was going to put everything she had into this. Even if she failed she would know that once in her small little life, she faced all of the fear and anxiety and self-doubt, looked them in the face, and told them all to go straight to hell.
Sylvester jumped up on the desk where she was writing down notes on garden pests, and plopped down onto her notebook. “You hungry buddy?” Anna asked, scratching his head before making her way to the kitchen to put out his dinner. “Me too,” she said, her stomach grumbling loudly.
Opening the fridge, she realized that she had eaten the last of the grapes and pasta the night before and a plate of plain brown rice wasn’t very appealing. “Looks like I’m going out for dinner,” she told the cat whose face was buried in his food dish. “you hold down the fort. And try not to kill your brother,” she said, peeking at the bird cage suspended from the ceiling.
The diner was busier than the last time she went there. A different pretty young waitress showed her to her seat and took her unusual order with a barely noticeable eyebrow raise.
Anna was just about to dive into her French toast when someone slid into her booth, across from her. “French toast and macaroni and cheese?” Sam asked, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Hey I’ve been living on spaghetti and yogurt for a week. Leave me alone,” she smiled.
His waitress came into view, looking around, trying to find where her customer was when she spotted him sitting with Anna. She was impressively balancing five plates between her two arms, and dropped three off in front of Sam before moving away.
Anna looked at Sam’s food and groaned. He had ordered a large garden salad with a side of broccoli and minestrone soup.
“What?” Sam asked, amused by the look on her face.
“A health freak, huh?” Anna asked, pouring a generous amount of maple syrup over her French toast.
“Got something against veggies?” he asked, picking up a piece of broccoli with his fingers and putting it in his mouth, “They do the body good.” Anna smiled and shrugged, putting a heaping spoonful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth and chewing deliberately. “And so does macaroni and cheese and French toast apparently,” he added with an odd look in his eye.
Anna choked, coughing furiously until she finally swallowed her food.
Sam was watching her with a bemused expression. She obviously wasn’t the kind of woman used to receiving compliments As far as he knew, women who didn’t have a coughing fit over a charm-less insinuation. She couldn’t meet his eye afterward, pretending that cutting up the rest of her French toast required intense concentration.
“So Miss. Goode,” he finally said. “how goes the farming?”
She surprised him by snorting. “I have everything labeled, but I still only know two by sight.”
“That wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with little Billy does it?”
Annabelle felt herself blushing. “You named your goat Billy?” she asked, refusing to admit that he was right… the only reason she knew the basil was because Sam had told her what it was. “That’s… original,” she said with a smirk.
“I call all of the goats Billy. I would have run out of names by now if I gave them each their own.
“You’re a goat farmer?” she asked and her face looked sad. “You don’t like..”
“Eat them?” Sam chimed in with a full, booming laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, Miss. Goode, little Billy wont be ending up on anyone’s dinner plate. Goat isn’t a very popular meat. No, I use the goats for milk. And cheese making.”
Anna nodded, feeling oddly relieved. She didn’t want to think that the adorable little bundle of fur might end up as someone’s dinner. Even if he had damaged some of her crops.
“You could come over sometime if you get tired of trying to tell plants apart. Its not hugely interesting, but there are lots of baby goats you can name until your heart is content. And you can try some of the products. It could be a good distraction.”
“You had me at ‘baby goats’,” she said and Sam laughed.
“Good. Anytime then. No need to call or anything. I am pretty much always around.”
Anna wondered if this was a date thing. No. She knew better than that. He was just being nice. Friendly. A good neighbor. Even if he did sort-of say that she had a good body. “So what…” Annabelle started when she was interrupted by Ashley, the waitress from her first visit, suddenly walking over with what looked like a disapproving frown.
“Someone,” she said with a flick of her head indicating the person was behind her, “wanted me to bring you these.” It was then that Anna noticed the plate she was carrying was piled high with what looked like one of every danish the diner carried. Her mouth watered. Ashley leaned closer to her. “I could go right over there and drop them in his lap if you want,” she said and Anna realized she was dead serious.
Anna giggled and shook her head. “That would be a waste of perfectly delicious danishes.”
“Suit yourself,” Ashley grimaced. “but I am not thanking him for you.”
Annabelle shook her head, smiling as she arranged the desserts in front of her. It was then that she looked up to Sam and caught a glimpse of a dark look cross his face before he noticed her looking at him and replaced it with that adorable lopsided grin again.
“You cant possibly be thinking about eating all of those, can you?”
Anna stifled the insecurity that told her that she shouldn’t be stuffing her face in front of an attractive man. “Just watch me,” she said instead, taking a huge bite out of a apricot and cheese danish.
Sam laughed, a rich infectious laugh.
Anna felt someone lean over her chair from behind, their face next to her ear. She didn’t have to look to know it was Eric. Who else would take such liberty with someone’s personal space?
“There’s something sexy about a woman enjoying her food,” he said and sauntered away and out of the diner. She could have sworn her ran a finger across her neck before he stepped away. She felt a shiver spread down her spine.
Looking up at Sam, she noticed the dark look again. She held up a hand as if to stop him from talking although he wasn’t even trying to speak. “I’ve already had the lecture. From Ashley. And Maude. And judging from that frown Hank The Friendly Grocer is giving me, I have another one in my future. So save it.”
Sam shrugged. “No smoke without fire they say.” He reached across the table and stole a corner from her apple danish and popped it in his mouth.
“I’ll have to invest in a fire extinguisher.”
“I grew up with the O’reillys,” Sam said. “that might be too subtle.”
Annabelle giggled. “Well then, a high powered fire hose. Or one of those airplanes they use on wild fires. I
can improvise.”
“Good to know,” Sam said, rising and dropping a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “Don’t forget to come and visit sometime.”
“I wont,” she said, feeling uncomfortable. Outside of her mother’s boyfriends, a man had never paid for her food before. And in one meal, Sam had paid for her dinner and Eric had paid for her dessert. “Here,” she said as the waitress came over again. “this is for you.”
The girl smiled broadly. Their bill couldn’t have been more than twenty dollars. “He’s the best tipper in town.”
--
Sam heard the cigarette lighter click as soon as he walked outside the diner. He sighed. “What do you want, O’reilly?”
Eric shrugged. “She’s a breath of fresh air,” Eric commented.
“Which is exactly why you should stay away from her.”
“Ouch,” Eric laughed.
“Oh come on, man,” Sam sighed, leaning on the wall next to him. “she’s a sweetheart. You’ll get tired of her in a week and she’ll be heartbroken.”
“Think that highly of me, huh Flynn?”
“Or that lowly. I don’t have a vested interest here. I just think she had enough on her plate without having to become another notch in your belt.”
“Yeah,” Eric said, crushing his cigarette butt on the outdoor ashtray. “keep telling yourself that,” he laughed and walked away.
Sam didn’t know what was wrong with him. He and Eric had always gotten along well enough. Not quite friends but without any animosity either. Everyone knew he was the biggest manwhore in town, but that had somehow never mattered. Women knew what they were getting themselves into with Eric and yet they willingly fell into his arms. It had never bothered him before. He convinced himself he was just being a good neighbor. Or honoring Mam’s memory by warning her niece about Eric. She just seemed so innocent and wide-eyed and he felt the need to shield her.
It didn’t have anything to do with the attraction he felt toward her.
What The Heart Wants Page 3
